The following letter was written by 32 year-old Electa F. (Sawyer) Miller of West Hampden, Penobscot county, Maine, who served as an officer in the Morning Star Division—a temperance organization. Electa was married to 54 year-old Joseph Buck Miller, a cooper in West Hampden. Her parents were Capt. Samuel Sawyer (1797-1864) and Rebecca Hewes (1798-1870).

Joseph B. Miller was appointed the postmaster of West Hampden on 2 October 1862 and held the position until April 1865. Electa mentions her daughter Ada in this letter who would have been about 8 or 9 years old.

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West Hampden [Penobscot County, Maine]
January 16 [1863]

My true and very dear friend,

I was very, very glad to get a letter from you this morning. I had waited patiently for it but it came at last & I thank you. So it seems you still continue your labors of love for the brave young men who go forth strong in their love of justice & truth. I appreciate the spirit you manifest of a desire to be strong, to go forth & battle for the right, but I don’t think I possess it. I choose to be sort of petted, you know. Consequently, I chose a man ever so much older than I am for a husband & he indulges me in every way he can. I wish you would come & make us a visit some time. Oh, I believe I forgot to tell you that he returned from California last summer. I was playing sick but he soon talked me out of that notion. Besides, he is a healing medium you know—believes in Spiritualism; but I don’t, do you? He can take the pain out of my head by holding his hands on my head.

About the [Morning Star] Division, we are prospering quite well, considering the circumstances. One of our best members died this winter after winning golden opinions from the company & regiment in which he enlisted as a private soldier, being engaged in several battles, at last was taken sick, sent to a hospital, and after a long time, got a discharge, came home, and a poorer looking object no one ever saw. He was a walking skeleton. He lingered a few weeks, was all ambition to get well, but it was not to be. He sleeps his last sleep. Oh, how very many precious lives have been sacrificed for the Southern traitors. How I wish they would speedily get their just recompense. My husband used to see something of their disposition in California. He hates them. They are so revengeful and overbearing.

Let me see, you wrote that William spent a great part of his time with Mrs. Hoyt. I’ll warrant it. I’m right glad you told me for I want to know all the gossip. You didn’t write half enough. You know I want to know lots of news. I had one little letter from Sarah Huse for a year & then she was very sparing of news. I should think there might be some gossip. There always is in most every town. Do tell me what street Mrs. Hoyt lives on. Sadie wrote that she was keeping boarders there & I have a friend in Washington this winter. She writes me she is boarding with a New Hampshire lady. I thought it might possibly be Mrs. Hoyt. Write me all about it, won’t you, and don’t let any one read this for I write by the jump, just as I happen to think.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that my husband is postmaster and when he is away, I have to change the mail. I like it ever so much only I have to do all the writing—every speck of it—& that keeps me just as busy with my housework & going to Div. meetings once a week.

Ada is getting large enough to help me some but she goes to school. I would like to have that manuscript, although we have not an editress yet as it is the first of the quarter & there are not enough writers here to make a paper interesting. Our best writer—Mrs. Packard—is at Washington, but she wrote me that she would write something for the paper if I would let her know when we had one. So if you will send me yours, I’ll write to her & will have a paper occasionally if not oftener. Don’t mind about my good writing for this is the third letter I have written this evening after mending three pairs of socks. You see I have got my hand in now so that I just begin to write pretty, don’t I, & I pay no regard to Orthography, Syntax, or Prosody. Now I will let you how to direct your next so that it will come free; J. B. Miller, Post Master, W. Hampden, Me.

Excuse my promptness in writing so soon but I had got my hand in & wanted to write now. I don’t know but that I’d better sign this so you will know it isn’t from a crazy woman. Yours in L. P. F. — E. F. Miller