Dear Bess,

Sorry I haven’t written you in years. I’m ten years old now. Grandpa says the war is why I’m not allowed to write you, because you live in South Carolina. But he says that now I can, because General Lee surrendered. Mom says Daddy will be home soon! I hope he still loves me. Hope you’re well!

Love,

Abigail

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Dear Abigail,

Thank you so much for writing! I’m eight years old now. My daddy’s been home for years. He broke his leg in battle, and the doctor couldn’t set it right. I was sad, but not anymore because he’s not sad anymore. He says a lot I don’t understand about slavery and “secession” and some other words a lady shouldn’t write about in a letter. But he’s happy he doesn’t have to fight anymore, and he’s happy the war’s over. Some of the men in blue are marching outside. Hope you’ll write again soon!

Love,

Bess

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Dear Bess,

I’m so sorry your dad broke his leg! Please tell him I’m sorry. I don’t know how he can be happy that he broke his leg. My daddy wrote us today! He’s coming home on Wednesday (Grandpa says I spelled that right)! I can’t wait to see him! I’m so glad he didn’t have to be sent south! Why are our soldiers there anyway? Grandpa tried to explain, but I still don’t understand. The war is over, isn’t it?

Love,

Abigail

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Dear Abigail,

I told Daddy, and he says don’t be sorry. He wishes the war never happened. We don’t have any slaves, and he says that even if we did, it’s stupid to break up a country for that. Give your daddy a kiss for me! I’m not sure why the men in blue are here either. Sometimes I don’t like the way one of them looks at me.

Love, Bess

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Dear Bess,

The president has been shot! He was watching a play last night, and Daddy said he died this morning! And the man who shot him escaped! They haven’t caught him yet! What’s going to happen to us? I know you’re a papist, but please pray for us anyway. Sorry about the tear stains on this letter.

Love,

Abigail

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Dear Abigail,

I heard! I’m so sorry! Mr. Lincoln was such a great man! I’m scared too—Mama says the man who shot him was one of the Booth brothers! Abigail, I saw him in Julius Caesar not too long ago, and now he’s killed Mr. Lincoln! It’s “Catholic”, not “papist”, but of course I will pray for you! Please pray for us too!

Love,

Bess

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Dear Bess,

Curse John Wilkes Booth! I know it’s not ladylike to say it, but curse him! He’s still out there somewhere! Mom says it’s the stage that ruined him. She says “Never become an actress, Abigail. It can only lead to trouble.” We have a new president, Mr. Johnson. I don’t know about him. And Grandpa says it’s papist because you worship the pope of Rome, so you’re wrong. But I will pray for you.

Love,

Abigail

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Dear Abigail,

Mama says don’t write me again until you learn to watch your language. Mr. Booth is a bad man, but it’s not manners to say what you did. And no, we don’t worship the pope, we worship the Lord Jesus Christ.

Love,

Bess

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Dear Bess,

Sorry I haven’t written you in years. I’m fifteen years old now. Your last letter made me very angry. I tore it up, except for the part that says “Lord Jesus Christ”. I shouldn’t have torn up your letter. You were right. I’m so sorry. I hope we can be friends again. Please write soon.

Love,

Abigail