Monday Nov. 18 (1861) 
leaflets ripling on and dying away in the distant with a pleasant murmur tell me that "The melancholly days have come The saddest of the year Of wailing winds and naked woods And meadows brown and sear."  The Union army is generally going into winter quarters, but it is almost invariably in the enemys country, thus preventing them from advancing. But as soon as winter's icy fetters are loosened by the gentle zephyrs of May, the clashing of arms, the cannon's roar and the sharp crack of the rifle will again be heard. I now bid adieu to summer and autumn, welcome winter with his cold icy grip, without letting loose, till the warm spring sun will loosen his iron grasp; then the song and melody of the nation will be sent forth in one shout of Joy; and the contending armies will meet each other face to face, and perhaps in one mighty struggle decide this great contest, if so one shout of hallalujah will be wafted by the wind, to the domicil of every loyal family, in this once happy and united country.
