This letter is only signed “Arthur” but I’m confident he served in Co. D, 12th New Hampshire Infantry and there are only two soldiers with that name—Arthur L. Hannaford (1844-1935) and Arthur Kimball (1839-1910), both residents of Belknap county, New Hampshire. I feel confident it’s one of these two but am leaning toward Arthur Hannaford simply because he was closer in age to Amos Chattle, mentioned in the letter, and to the letter’s recipient. Arthur was the son of Alfred Hannaford (1806-1875) and Lurana Sawyer Smith (1809-1876) of Sanbornton. After the war he was employed as a carpenter.
I could not find an image of Arthur but here is one of William P. Mason who served in Co. F, 12th New Hampshire Infantry (Dave Morin Collection)
This letter was probably written by Arthur L. Hannaford (1844-1935) of Co. D, 12th New Hampshire Infantry. It’s only signed “Arthur” but there were only two in the company by that name (the other being Arthur Kimball, b. 1839) and this Arthur was closer in age to the recipient of the letter and to one of the other soldier’s mentioned in the letter.
Arthur wrote his letter to Frank J. Robinson (1843-Aft1892), the son of Joseph Wells Robinson (1816-1864) and Matilda G. Crockett (1811-1863) of Lake Village (now Lakeport), Laconia, Belknap county, New Hampshire.
The Find-A-Grave obituary for Arthur Hannaford claims he was in most of the battles of the regiment, excepting Gettysburg, which took place while he was a paroled prisoner. He was wounded and taken prisoner at Chancellorsville, was in Libby and Belle Isle about a month, and then sent to Camp Parole at Annapolis. He did not return to the regiment until September 1863. While being held a prisoner at Chancellorsville, he wrote of being trapped between the opposing lines and exposed to severe fire from both sides. He remembered Richmond draped in mourning for the death of Stonewall Jackson. He was fond of entertaining his comrades in camp.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Directed to Frank J. Robinson, Lake Village, New Hampshire
12th New Hampshire Regiment Camp near Falmouth, Va. March 3rd 1863
Dear old friend Frank,
I hope you will forgive me for not writing before. I was heedless or I should have done it. Charles Leavitt had a letter from you night before last and he told me you said you wanted me to write you. You had written me two letters but I have received only one from you. I don’t want you to be so heedless as I have been but write as often as you can and I will write oftener.
My health is not as good as it was last summer when I worked at Mr. Morgan’s. I am lame in both ankles and my stomach is out of order. What I eat does me no good and I have some cough. I should like to call on you some morning this winter, Frank, and talk over old times and eat an apple with you. I think it would go good and I think a little popped corn would not go bad. And Frank, I could tell you a long story of what I have seen. It would take me some time, I tell you.
There is not much of importance to write at the present time. Everything seems to be still and quiet hereabouts. They are building forts here in the direction of the creek and they are calculated to be pretty large and formidable. There is a report here this morning that Vcksburg has been taken. I hope it is so but fear it may not be. There is another that Napoleon has ordered the rebels to lay down their arms in 30 days but this is a camp story not much to be relied on.
We are having rather a wet time here for it rains most all of the time which makes it very muddy and bad getting along. You have no idea of what Virginia mud is. I would like to have you for the fun of it get stuck in where it is a foot deep. You would then see for yourself what it is.
Frank, I have no stamps so I hope you will excuse me for sending this without any. It is impossible to get any here. You have to pay every thing for what you buy here. Apples are 5 cents apiece. Cheese 40 cents a pound. Butter 60 cents a pound. Tobacco $1.50 cents a pound. Writing paper 2 cents a sheet and other things in proportion. So you see, if we bought all we wanted, we should have to have a good deal of money.
Amos Chattle 1 put his arm out of joint the other day while wrestling with another boy and he is likely to have a hard time of it before it gets better. I suppose [you] have got any quantity of snow there now. We have had some here—as much as a foot at a time. But it don’t stay long now.
I must close. Write soon as you get this. From your friend — John N. Peckham
1 Amos Chattle (1844-1919) was the son of Thomas and Nancy (Bowman) Chattle of Laconia, Belknap county, New Hampshire. He served in Co. D, 12th New Hampshire Infantry. The history of the regiment states that “he received a fracture of the right elbow by being accidentally thrown down during the winter before Chancellorsville, from the effects of which he was afterwards discharged. Before this he promised to make one of the best of soldiers, but thus early had to succumb to the inevitable. His father and brother Horace were in the 8th New Hampshire.” The former died of sickness at Camp Stevens, La., and the latter was killed at Port Hudson. Another brother, Noah, served in the 15th New Hampshire and was also killed at Port Hudson.
This lengthy and informative letter was penned by Robert Samuel Munford (1809-1897), the son of Richard Jones Munford (1776-1843) and Elizabeth Embry (1781-1881). A historical marker near the village of Munfordville describes Robert as a pioneer and the father of the village. He attended Centre College and became a surveyor. The marker states further that Mr. Munford held all country offices, and every seeker of roads and lands applied to him for information. He regards all the villagers as his children, and all strangers who enter Munfordville as his own visitors.” The historical sign gives one such visitor as John Muir, the celebrated American naturalist who walked from Indianapolis to the Gulf in 1867 and described visiting with Robert Munford in his book, “A Thousand Mile Walk to the Gulf.“
Robert’s letter describes the death and burial of William Curtis Johnston (1839-1862), the chaplain of the 13th Kentucky Infantry. William was born in Trebizond, Turkey, to missionary parents. He graduated from Yale in November 1860, and entered the Theological Seminary in Danville, Kentucky. After he was ordained as a minister of the Presbyterian Church, he became a Civil War chaplain for the Union, and saw some war action. He died of typhoid pneumonia in Munfordville, Kentucky, on December 3, 1862, and was buried on a local farm belonging to one of his church members. Nineteen years later he was reinterred in Evergreen Cemetery, in New Haven, Connecticut, to be with his family. William never married but was engaged at the time he died. His mother wrote a book about William, which is still available, entitled The Young Chaplain, but she never mentions his engagement.
Robert’s letter is addressed to Cornelia S. Hall who was engaged to be married to William C. Johnston. Aside from the details of William’s death and burial, Robert provides her with information pertaining to a $1000 Life Insurance Policy that William had purchased, naming Cornelia as the beneficiary.
Note: This letter is from the private collection of Greg Herr and was offered for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Munfordville, Hart county, Kentucky February 20th 1863
Miss Cornelia S. Hall,
You will doubtless be somewhat surprised by receiving this communication from one so great a distance with whom you have no personal acquaintance, and perhaps never until the present knew had an existence. A sense of duty impels me to write to you. I hope the contents of my letter will be a sufficient apology. Indeed, I flatter myself your gratitude will be more than a liberal reward for all my trouble in writing.
I have received three very satisfactory and interesting letters from Mrs. M[arianne] C. [Howe] Johnston (now at Granville, Licking county, Ohio) who is the mother of the late Rev. Wm. C. Johnston, dec’d. In her last of the 6th inst., she informed me that you and her son had been engaged to be married for several years and that said engagement would have been consumated early last September had not circumstances transpired that prevented it. I had also learned the same a few days after his death from Capt. [Wallace] Victor of the same regiment who was a convalescent and staid with him until he died.
Some two weeks since, I also received a letter from your friend Wilmot Williams of New York City enclosing one to Mr. Mat Manning of Campbellsville, Kentucky, making enquiry about Wm. C. Johnston’s trunk [and] that he was informed by you was left in his care. As I could not answer the letter, I forwarded it to Mr. Manning by Mr. Barbie, the present chaplain of the regiment, and wrote him in person also, and requested him to write to you. Mr. Johnston & Mr. Williams, whose addresses I gave. I have just received his reply. He informs me he had complied & very kindly proposes to afford any assistance in his power.
Your friend, Mr. Williams, several weeks since, wrote to Rev. J[ames] C. Rush of this place [chaplain of Col. Grider’s regiment] asking for assistance in your behalf, informing him that deceased had a policy from the Mutual Life Insurance Co. of New York City (for your benefit) for $1000 less the premium which he paid. He also sent him the necessary blank affidavits & statements to be properly prepared & forwarded to his address so as to enable you to draw the money. Mr. Rush has been absent and some ten days since I learned from Capt. Victor the above facts and went to his home and got the papers and have been attending to it in person, and several days since had them almost completed, but the absence of several of those whose statements were required to be sworn to made it necessary to do it over again, but substituting others. Mr. Rush has just returned and I will be able to get his statement, &c.
It may be necessary (for you) to have the No. of the policy & the amount certified to. Not having the policy. I cannot have that done, but however I suppose that will be immaterial, but it will be necessary for you to present the policy before you can draw the money. You may get a copy from the books of the company on which it may be drawn. I presume, however, that you have the policy in your possession. If so, there may be no difficulty.
I requested Mr. Manning in my letter to open the trunk and make an examination for the policy, and if found, to send me the No. & the amount and the policy to you. He informed me that after the Southern army had left Kentucky, he had locked the trunk and sent the key to deceased at Danville, Kentucky, and therefore could not examine the trunk as it was locked. I hope, however, you have the policy.
February 21st, 1863
Miss Cornelia,
Col. Edward Henry Hobson, 13th Kentucky Infantry
Since writing my first sheet, I felt quite fatigued and wearied as it is very difficult for me to write, having been the first individual shot by the rebels after their invasion of Kentucky. I was shot in the door of the house in which I now write on the 10th of October 1861 with 4 balls in the right arm & shoulder, only a distance of 31 paces in daylight. I cannot shut my hand and have to write without touching or resting my hand on the paper, with a pen fastened to my fore finger. I therefore, after writing, went out to the encampment of Col. [Edward Henry] Hobson’s 13th [Kentucky Volunteer] Regiment. He was absent at Louisville as well as Adj. W. W. Woodruff in whose possession was the valise and clothing of deceased. The Col. is a relation of mine and his son, Major Hebron and Col. [James H.] Ward [27th Kentucky], then in command of the post, gave me permission to examine deceased valise and clothing for the policy & key of trunk. I did not find the policy but found a key which I think is the one for the trunk. I have an opportunity and will send it to Mr. Manning in a few days—when he will examine for the policy, which if you have not got, you should request him to send to you if he finds it.
I found in the valise among his letters, one from W. Williams to Wm. C. Johnson dated October 30, 1862 in which was enclosed a minute, made by W. Williams of $40 loaned to deceased. Also the receipt from the Secretary (I. Abbott) for the premium $29.49 to C. Johnston (I suppose about $10 of it was for the war permit). The No. of policy is 25893 and is from November 5th 1862 to November 25, 1863, thus embracing one year & 20 days.
As it will be necessary to show that the premium has been paid on the policy before the money can be drawn, I will therefore enclose the receipt to you (which is a responsibility I assume) with the request that if you cannot draw the money and anyone should be entitled to the benefits of the policy, you will return the receipt back to me.
Mrs. Johnson in none of her letters has ever, to me, said anything about the policy, and it may be she does not know anything about her sons having it. I will write to her again in a few days. Also to Mr. Williams & send him the necessary proof of death, &c. I should have attended to this business sooner and written to you before now, but have been suffering from my injuries and had some sick negroes to attend to & had a fine mare stolen which was gone 10 days before I got her, &c.
February 23rd 1863
Now Miss Cornelia,
I hope you will permit me to say notwithstanding I am to you a stranger, that from what Mrs. Johnston wrote me (in her last) of your delicate health, and of the death of all your family except yourself leaving you alone without anyone to assist you, that I feel for you a great deal of sympathy. I think I know something of the tender sensibilities that surround & find their way into a lady’s heart—particularly when standing in such a relation as you did, to our young, good, pious, lovely and worthy beloved William Curtis Johnston, deceased. I can therefore anticipate that you would very naturally desire to know something about where his remains were deposited and whether they will remain there undisturbed or removed by the family to New Haven.
Mrs. Johnston informs me that they at first intended to remove his remains to New Haven, but I gave her such a relation of the care that she now writes me that they have concluded to let them remain where they are deposited. The morning he died, I was out north of the town at the common burying ground which was by the desolations of the different armies, open or not enclosed, and now is in the vast commons. Lieut. Col. [John Brawner] Carlile of the 13th Regiment came out a few minutes after his death & informed me of the fact, & requested me to suggest some suitable place for his interment. I informed him that there was not a burial place about the village but Col. G. Y. Woods (who was absent) and one belonging to the members of my father’s family, that were enclosed by any kind of a fence. Notwithstanding I was the only representative of my father’s family living in this county, I told him I would take the responsibility on myself to select and designate the most suitable place in our family burying grouund for his interment.
He immediately detailed an officer and men to accompany me to dig the grave. Here let me assure you that what I have done will meet the entire approbation of every member of my family though they are widely scattered. It is a small enclosure with a rough stone wall, containing about 20 bodies (relations and friends). That you may form a more correct idea of the locality and some of its surroundings, I have drawn off an approximate map (which I herewith enclose). It is represented by the figure 6. 1.2.3.4.5. represents the different fortifications situated on more elevated ground. It is on the top or brow of the hill or rather bluff making up from a short creek or what I might term a rivulet, formed by a large boiling spring at the base of the bluff, and running into Green River which is in view and about one-third of a mile distant, & is about 160 feet above the river in elevation, and just where the ascent terminates, and near to Col. Hebron’s encampment.
Fortification No. 4 includes the graves of the 15 slain of Col. Willich’s German [32nd Indiana] regiment in the battle with the Texas Rangers fought December ’61 a little south of the bridge.
Burial place of the slain memebers of Col. Wilich’s 32nd Indiana Infantry. Adolph Metxner, artist.
This was once a beautiful, romantic village and a happy one never containing more than 350 inhabitants and for its size, very notorious being on a great thoroughfare near the center of the state and has produced by birth our former and present residence, two Major Generals, five Colonels, two Lieutenanys, five Captains, & two judges of the Court of Appeals—one the Chief Justice. But I am disgressing. The desolation of the armies have swept over it and the surrounding country as a mighty torrent & destruction as a mighty whirlwind.
Mrs. Johnston is very desirous that a stone with a suitable inscription be placed at his grave and has asked me to superintend it. I will attend to it as soon as I can make a suitable arrangement. She says the family only desires a plain one & by my suggestion has sent an inscription for it, and desires me to use some of the money die for his services as chaplain for that purpose. I think the officers & privates of the regiment will bear all the cost of a plain one but I think that it should be of Italian marble for the reason that marble is the only suitable stone to use for monuments. It need not be so costly or gaudy. The inscription will be [ ] in cost.
Miss Cornelia, I cannot write any more with a pen. You will therefore excuse the use of a pencil. It has just occured to me that you may never have heard the particulars of the death of Rev. W. C. Johnston. The engine of the train bringing the regiment from Nashville failed on the way and about 60 miles from here near Franklin, Kentucky, it gave out, and was sent back to a switch which was on Thursday on which day he commenced complaining. The woods was all burned along the road and the men had to prepare fuel for the engineer by sutting the wood. They did not, therefore, get here until Saturday night or Sunday morning. He walked to town from the depot, a distance of 3/4 of a mile and came to my boarding house (Mr. Gibson’s) on Sunday morning in company with Capt. Thompson of same regiment. There was no suitable room for him in the house, it being a rather small one, and he ate some breakfast we provided for him, but he appeared to be full or fatigued. I took him to my room and he laid down while Capt. Thompson went out to get for him a suitable place. He got a good room for him at one of the hotels in which Capt. Victor remained with him & a nurse from the regiment. I went to see him every day until the day he died—Wednesday, I think.
On Monday morning I was not satisfied with his care and went to Woodsonville for Dr. [William Harrison] Gardner to come over and see him which met the wishes also of Dr. [Edward S.] Cooper, his attending physician. He was not considered dangerously ill by them. The evening before he died, I told Dr. Cooper I though he had a good deal of local inflammation about his lungs. He said he thought he had some but not much for he did not cough. I said but little to the deceased as he appeared indisposed to talk. He got up from a lounge & walked to the bed. On the next morning he walked to the fire and took a seat in a chair and asked Capt. Victor to hand him a letter he had received a day or two previous from yourself and carefully read it over again, made a pause, and then remarked to the captain, it was from a lady he feared he loved too devotedly. He said he loved his Creator most of all and the Lady who wrote him the letter next.
The captain told me when he first brought the letter to him from the office, he remarked, “Well, well, it has come at last.” and eagerly pressed it to his lips. While he and the captain were sitting by the fire, the captain remarked to him he did not think he would ever get well and would die from that attack. He replied [that] he believed so himself and said if such was to be his fate, he was prepared for the event and was not afraid to die. A short time after review, Mr. Rush came into the room and found him on bed in a dying state and told him of his condition. He received it very calmly and without any evidence of fear or trepidation. He asked him if he had any requests to make, He said he wished his condition communicated to his sister, mother, and yourself (by telegraph). Adj. Woodruff informed him he would go to the office at the Depot and attend to it. He replied by turning to him, “Miss Hall first” and while saying, “God bless you, Adjutant,” in a smothered tone expired. 1
He evidently contracted disease on the way to this place from exposure as the weather was quite inclement. Someone informed me that he slept out one rainy night under a wagon with only a blanket. I see that his obituary in a New York & New Haven paper says he died of typhoid pneumonia. That may have been the original disease but the immediate cause of his sudden death was with me, without doubt, congestion of the lungs. I have been subject of that disease myself and recently had quite a spell of it. He had the all the symptoms before his death. There is but one remedy for it—that is, a strong stimulant & hot spices in it or pepper. I suggested it to Dr. Cooper. He proposed a stimulant to him but he objected. He was concious a short time before he expired [at which time] he remarked that Paul had said to Timothy he would take a litle wine for his stomach’s sake & other infirmities, & that he would therefore, it it was thought best, take some wine which was given him.
He was much beloved by the officers and men of the regiment. I never saw a stranger whose death affected me more. I did not know he was a Presbyterian ot that he had any relations in Kentucky until I asked him the evening before his death. I wrote immediately to Rev. R. N. Johnston, his uncle of Point Lick, Garrett county, Kentucky. I have received his reply. I think he will come and see to his effects, &c. I will write him to do so.
Miss Cornelia, I will offer my services to you and will do anything in my power you may request. What shall I plant for you at his grave? It has just occured to me that as these are war times, I may have done wrong by drawing you a map of this place & you will be careful to whom you show it, & keep or destroy it. Yours respectfully, — Robert S. Munford
Miss Cornelia, I hope you will write to me as soon as convenient. My address is, Robert T. Munford, Munfordville, Hart county, Kentucky
N. B. I believe I wrote Mr. Johnston, deceased, sat up in bed & read your letter a short time before his death. I have since learned it was on a chair before the fire, &c. — R. S. Munford
1 A letter from Adjutant W. W. Woodruff of the 13th Kentucky Regiment to Mrs. Johnston, datelined from Munfordville on 4 December 1862 stated: Mrs. Johnston: “It is my painful duty to inform you of the death of your excellent son—the Chaplain of our regiment. We left Nashville on the 25th Nov. On Thursday, the 27th, he complained of having a cold, and feeling unwell. We were on our return from Tennessee to this place; but, owing to various trivial accidents to the locomotive, we were detained on the road until Sunday, Nov. 30. Upon arriving at this place, Col. Hobson, Col. Carlile, and Capt. Thompson had him removed to a hotel. He seemed to get a little worse, but no anxiety was felt for him. During the night of the 2d (Tuesday), he became alarmingly ill, and Wednesday morning, the surgeon pronounced that he would not live through the day.
I visited him about half-past 9 o’clock A. M. He seemed to breathe hard, and suffered some. Rev. James C. Rush, who was in attendance, determined to inform him of his real condition. He called him, and Mr. Johnston turned on his back, and Mr. Rush told him his time was short in this world, and if he had any directions to give, he would receive them. He then gave your name and that of two sisters, wishing to be remembered to you It was with great difficulty he spoke. After a moment’s pause, he quoted a passage of Scripture, which I could not understand. I then suggested to him, if he would have me telegraph to you. He replied in the affirmative. I then took leave of him, and he gave me his blessing, which were the last intelligible words he uttered. I proceeded to the office and telegraphed. He was very low. While waiting there, I received intelligence that he was dead, which I immediately telegraphed to you. He died about lo o’clock A. M., Dec. 3d, of typhoid pneumonia and was buried this morning at the same hour, in the private burying-ground of Mr. Robert Munford, a Presbyterian gentleman of this place. The regiment accompanied the corpse to the grave.” [Source, Recollections of My Father, 1876. pp. 114-115]
Side by side hand drawn map by Robert S. Munford (left) with 1863 Military Map of same area.
This brief letter was written by George Storrs Ladd (1847-1912), the son of Alexis Ladd (1804-1888) and Henrietta Rice (1809-1854) of Providence, Rhode Island. George was employed as a “folder of cloth” when he enlisted in the US Signal Corps in April 1864. He served until 17 August 1865.
George wrote the letter to his sister, Frances (“Fannie”) Newell (Ladd) Walford (1843-1918) who married Alexander Walford, Jr. (1837-1892) on 1 October 1863 and resided in Providence where Alexander was employed as a painter.
“Please make them out [of] white cloth, hem the sides, and put a square of red cloth in the centre of the white and please send it in a letter to me. Make two of them. I want to wear them on my hat for a badge.”
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Addressed to Mrs. Alexander Walford, No. 39 Aborn St., Providence, Rhode Island[Now site of Durk’s Bar-B-Q]
Fannie,
Please make me these two flags like the picture to wear on my cap. Please make them out [of] white cloth, hem the sides, and put a square of red cloth in the centre of the white and please send it in a letter to me. Make two of them. I want to wear them on my hat for a badge.
Fannie, be sure and send them if you can make them. Flags like this. This is the part that I want you to make.
Fannie, I did not have room in the letter to ask you to send me something to read—some newspapers—for I have a great many hours that I can be reading. Send me some comick [comic] papers and I will be very much oblige[d].
— George S. Ladd, Esq.
Signal Corps, USA In the Field. Write soon.
Direct [to] George S. Ladd, Signal Corps, USA, Headquarters 10th Army Corps. In care of Capt. [Gustavus Sullivan] Dana, Signal Officer
The following letter was written by Pliny Kidder (1817-1860), a civil engineer and the son of Peter Kidder (1781-1835) and Sophia Shumway (1790-1850) of Oxford, Worcester county, Massachusetts. His death notice requested papers in Maine and Vermont to copy so he must have spent time there.
Thomas Scott Williams (1812-1874)
The letter was directed to Thomas Scott Williams (1812-1874), the son of Solomon Williams and Martha Baker of Bozrah, Connecticut. He grew up there and was by profession a civil engineer. He assisted in the survey of the Boston and Albany Railroad and Boston City Water Works, and was for several years Superintendent of the Boston and Maine Railroad. Afterwards, he was engaged in business in Boston, Massachusetts, as a dealer in railroad supplies and finally settled in Auburndale, Massachusetts.
Though is no mention of railroads made in Pliny’s letter, but I must conclude that the letter describes an attempt to survey the ground for a possible railrad to be constructed between the important Mississippi landing at Columbus, Kentucky, directly into the interior agricultural markets of West Tennessee. It wasn’t until 1861 that the railroad line between Mobile, Alabama, and Columbus, Kentucky, was completed, however.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Directed to Thomas S. Williams, Esq., Newton Corner, Massachusetts
Camp #11 near Trenton, Gibson County, Tennesse February 11th 1849
Thomas S. Williams, Esq.
Dear Sir.
I have few opportunities and none of the conveniences for writing in camp, but after so long a delay, I will try to redeem the promise I made you before I left Newton. My health has been as good as usual, since I left Newton. In coming on, I met Mr. McKean at New York and I then took the Instruments Camp fixtures, &c., for 2 parties and came on alone to Columbus, Kentucky, the place where we commenced our survey—our starting point having been altered from Cairo to that place.
My fare from Boston to Columbus was $31. Columbus is on the Mississippi [River] 18 miles below the mouth of the Ohio. It is a small place having some 12 to 15 log houses (but it is far preferable to Cairo). I arrived there Dec. 10 and after various delays, we commenced work in the field Dec. 22. Our party consists of 13 men including a commissary and cook. Seven of us are from the East, 5 Kentuckians, and the cook a Negro slave, hired at the rate of $25 per month.
For the first 2 or 3 weeks, we ran from 1 to 2 miles per day. We now run from 3 to 3 ½ miles per day. The line has generally been through a heavily timbered country, very thinly settled, and much of it low bottoms overflown in times of high water. We were 4 days in crossing one of the bottoms and the water for 3 miles was from 3 to 8 inches deep.
Mr. McKean’s Division extends from the mouth of the Ohio to Jackson, Tennessee—a distance of about 90 miles. We are to run experimental lines and make an approximate location and according to present appearances we shall not get through with the field work before August or September. I do not intend to stay until that time if I can get away. I have seen enough of this part of the country and enough of camp life to satisfy me for the present. The weather has been most disagreeable. We have seldom had two fair days together but it has been Rain! Rain!! and as for mud, I never saw any until I came here. But here it is all mud. The roads—what few they have—are almost impassable. The mud around our camp fires and about the tents in some wet times has been ankle deep.
Our bill of fare for breakfast is cornbread and pork. For dinner in the field, cornbread. For supper, pork & cornbread. We are now in the vicinity of Trenton and we fare some better but we can get neither butter nor beef nor many other things that we consider as necessary at the North. I have seen very few slaves here. We crossed one plantation where there was about 50 and the proprietor appeared to me to be a greater slave than his Negroes. I take the levels and keep up quite easy and have generally kept comfortable. But I do not think I shall again leave New England to pass a winter in Tennessee.
Please give my respects to all my inquiring friends. If convenient I should be very happy to receive an answer to this. Please direct to Trenton, Gibson County, Tennessee. With great respect, your most Humble Servant, — Pliny Kidder
This letter was written by Frederick Henry McDowell (1818-1850), the son of William Anderson McDowell (1789-1851), a Prebyterian clergyman and Doctor of Divinity who served as the corresponding secretary for the Board of Domestic Missions of the Presbyterian Church. William was born in New Jersey but received his DD degree in 1827 from Franklin College (now the University of Georgia). [See Biographical Sketch]
Eighteen year-old Frederick wrote his letter in November 1836 from Hillsborough, North Carolina, describing the community as the “most dreary place I ever was in.” We learn from the letter that he was a nephew of Frederick Nash, chief justice of North Carolina, who moved to Hillsborough in 1807. The last paragraph suggests there was some kind of disturbance in or about the village of Hillsborough that threatened the lives of its citizens. I can only conjecture that this might have to do with threats of a slave uprising in which the “young ladies” felt particularly vulnerable.
Frederick’s letter also gives us a definition of the word Yankee as it had come to be accepted in common parlance by 1836 in North Carolina. “Here it signifies all that is low, mean, and cowardly.”
Frederick died on 1 March 1850 at the age of 32. He is probably the same individual by that name who received an A.M. degree from Princeton in 1839.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Stampless letter to Rev. Wm. A. McDowell, D. D., Charleston, S. C.
Hillsboro [North Carolina] November [23rd] 1836
Dear Father,
I received your letter a few days ago dated Charleston & I was very glad to hear you had arrived safely for I expected nothing else than a wreck & I feared for Mother for as yet she is hardly seaworthy while at the same [time] I was almost confident if the vessel did get cast away, that you would get safely to shore. When that gale came on, my imagination pictured to me Mother exactly. I conjecture she thought you were going on the breakers. You really seem to have a tact of raising the elements about you as Orpheus had of raising the stones for there always is a blow whenever you are aboard.
But I will now speak of home. Hillsboro is the most dreary place I ever was in. It’s true there is plenty of good society & I am invited constantly to visit in it. But you know my aversion to it nothing imaginary as you used to think, but a stern reality. Every day I am asked if I have been to see such & such a one. The answer is always in the negative & I mean it shall be so. I never was intended to confer any delights on social intercourse. I never intend getting married & so there is no use of visiting ladies. But I do like the people here. They are true Southerners, noble & disinterested—none of your ifs and ands. I am invited to parties of gentlemen at which I enjoy myself very much. But they talk so much against Yankees, as they call them, & they do not know that I lived the best half of my life at the South & therefore cannot come under this term that I am really irritated. I don’t like Yankees either & won’t have that term applied to me—for here it signifies all that is low, mean, and cowardly.
Judge Frederick Nash
But I must tell you something else. I want some money. I had to get a pair of pantaloons the other day for my other ones have worn out on all sides & here I have to look mighty nice & so I have worn my new ones for it was not safe & decent to appear in the others. Well, as I said before, I have got another pair & do for gracious sake, let me pay for them for I told the man I did not know whether I could ever pay for them for I was a poor boy but I was related to Judge [Frederick] Nash to credit me. I have got some money but I want that for it is precious little. It cost me a little more than you expected to come on here. I kept a regular account & I was detained four days on the road which alone cost me $12. So please send me the money.
I have no dirk but a fine gun at my disposal but I have never shot anything better than a cow. There has been a fine fracas here & I had to gallant several young ladies & pay for them too. They swarmed so thick here that Uncle Nash had to take two. $30 will do as I am now a barrister. I have a notion of leaving here if your letter does not come on soon. Probably I may be gone before I have a fine offer but it is a good distance from here. I will give you my determination in the next. Until then, you may wonder & afterwards too very probably. I am, — F. H. McDowell
An AI-sharpened image of Joseph G. Miller, identified by a descendant who made the collection available for purchase. The actual image appears below.[Michael Huston Collection]
The following grouping of letters consist of two letters (Letters 3 & 4) by Joseph G. Miller (1836-1864) of Co. D, 32nd Iowa Infantry to his sister, Lydia Miller (1830-1917).
Letters 1 & 2 were written by Joseph’s sweetheart Sue Reaper shortly after his enlistment. I have not been able to identify any young woman by that name in Iowa, however, and I have come to the conclusion that it was really Susan L. Hillock (1839-1878) who wrote them. Using her real name, she also authored Letter 6 in late 1865 upon hearing of Joseph’s death in the war. Susan was the daughter of Hugh and Euphenia (Landon) Hillock of Webster City, Hamilton county, Iowa. Both Susan and her sister Abi (or Libbie”) were school teachers in Iowa. Susan later married Benjamin Requa but died in 1878 at the age of 39. Why Susan did not use her real name in Letters 1 & 2 remains a mystery unless they hoped to keep their relationship concealed. In the 1865 letter, it is revealed that she was deeply devoted to Joseph, corresponded regularly with him throughout his service, but had never met any of the Miller family and didn’t even know all their names.
There is also a letter (Letter 5) by Lt. Samuel Wheaton Griffin (1828-1888), a 2nd Lt. in Co. B, 32nd Iowa, to Joseph’s sister Lydia stating he had in his possession some personal effects of Joseph’s that were taken from him after Joseph’s death at Camp Ford in Texas.
Joseph G. Miller was born in New Jersey and came west to Iowa with his parents, Keturah (Morris) Miller (1795-1866) and Gilbert Miller (1793-1877). Joseph was working as a silversmith in Boonesborough just prior to his enlistment at age 26 in August 1862. He was taken prisoner on 9 April 1864 at Pleasant Hill, Louisiana, and died while a prisoner on 28 July 1864 at Tyler, Texas. He is buried in the National Cemetery at Alexandria, La., Section 33, Grave 16.
The following collection of letters are the property of Michael Huston and were offered for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.
Letter 1
Nevada, Iowa October 8, 1862
Mr. J. G. Miller Dubuque, Iowa
Very dear friend, I received your expected and very welcome message late last evening in company with another one, but be assured that yours was first read—yes, twice read before opening the other. I am glad that you appear satisfied with your present way of living, or at least I would judge from your description of your regiment and your situation that you was as well suited as you probably could be in a soldier’s garb. And may all things work together for your peace and happiness during your warfare with the most wicked enemies our country has ever had. And when our most heaven-favored land is restored to her former liberties peace and glory, never again to be disturbed, but to go on progressing in what the form of her government professes to be until the whole world shall become revolutionized and establish a republican form of government and go on in reforming and improving mankind until the whole human family shall sun themselves in the luxuries of the liberty of speech, the press, and of governing themselves according to the dictates of their own consciences—both politically and theologically—and be in possession of all of the necessary beneficial intelligence for their happiness in this life and the one to come.
I have forgotten my subject and the one I was writing to. I know you would rather have something beside the love of county, &c. and shall now try to say something that may interest you.
I received a letter from Mrs. Brum a few days ago. She says she is going to Mr. B. in October, but thinks she won’t stay with him more than a year and then she will go back to her people, never to leave them. She says you informed her that you had enlisted to go with the army and she says she hopes that “dear Mr. Miller will live to return.” (She can call you dear but it won’t do for some others to.) She says she is so afraid she will lose track of you and wants me to keep her posted as to where you are and how you are, which I shall do as far as I know.
I received a letter from home which stated my father’s [family] were all well and making every preparation to receive me into their midst with a host of friends and a “big” dinner [and] that they were expecting me all the time. It’s too bad they are to be disappointed again. And [I also received] a letter from my sister in the academy. She says they are so strict that they hardly dare breathe [and] that there is five hundred pupils in attendance, twelve teachers, and two professors, and one principal, and a good time hard study all the time. But she is well pleased. I like my school and boarding place well. I have 29 pupils. We have had several very rainy days and some very pretty ones.
You may write anything you think proper to me and it will never go any further. I am glad you have been promoted and hope you will continue to progress in military honors until you become Colonel of the regiment—yes, Major General. I received the good letter you wrote me while in Nevada and I thank you so much for it. I have written you two simple letters since I commenced my school but I felt a thousand times worse than I could write and not much better yet but will not write anything more than wil be unpleasant to you. Burn those two letters and I will not write any more of the kind. I shall write every week now [that] I know how to direct them. If you are well, won’t you write soon and often? As ever, — Sue Reaper
Letter 2
Nevada, Iowa October 29, 1862
Mr. J. G. Miller [Camp Franklin] Dubuque, Iowa
Dear friend. This is a beautiful morning. The sun rose from a cloud of smoke and on first appearance it looked like the large red moon does when it is full and is just coming up from the horizon of a calm autumnal evening. And as I have four letters from my dear friend to answer and as it is is a very pleasant task, I selected this lovely morning for its execution in the lone schoolroom.
I received youys of October 13th and 22nd last evening which came in a Monday evening and yours of the 16th and 20th last Saturday which came in a Friday evening. I was very, very glad to hear from you and to hear that you had obtained a furlough and was visiting your dear friends and acquaintances for I always have believed that every person should enjoy themselves in the pleasures this world affords when it can be done without injury to ourselves or others. I love to see people happy, cheerful and full of play. And above all things, to set their mark high and resolve to do something and to be something in the world; to strive to excel in all the pursuits they may be engaged in.
But to something else. It appears from reading yours of the 13th inst. that you had not received any letters from me until before writing. I have written five or six letters to you since I saw you last. That is nearly one a week. I am very glad you told me what the duties of your office are. I want to know all such things you know. I am glad you have established good order and that you do all your work systematically (for I do think that order and system is the first works of the creator) and I am glad to know that you are a man not given to partiability for now every man of the company will be treated alike and each one will receive his due according to his merits or demerits (justice to all beings is what I love).
I would have written to you last Sunday but I went over to Mr. Weston’s after my boots but they were all gone from home. I went in and got my boots. I wrote a few lines and left on the table. I then went back to Mr. Zenor’s and took dinner with them. They were all well but John. He has a very large boil that made him quite sick—so much so that he is confined to his bed. [More code]
I should not have told you this only I think so much of Mattie and I thought you would not care to know it. They all asked after you. I had quite a long ride for one day. Mr. Zenor told me I might have those two lots east of James Hull’s for five dollars each. I told him I thought I would take them and would go over in three or four weeks and have the deed made. What do you think about it?
How long do you think you will stay where you are. All winter? Some of the men that are there have written back that they thought they would stay all winter. Have you had any trouble with your office yet? Can you please the company? And how do you like your captain now? If I ask any questions you don’t want to answer, just tell me so. I don’t mean to ask questions. I ought not to write as often as can. My best regards to you. As ever, — Susan Reaper
I have something to tell you sometime if I don’t feel too sad if I do. I guess I had better not tell it. I wrote once that I would not write when I felt so sad.
Letter 3
Benton, Arkansas November 29th 1863
Dear Sister Lydia,
I received your letter & sermon the other day & right glad I was to get it, being the second I have had from home since we came to this post. I should have answered sooner. You are a soldier and you know how hard it is for a soldier to write a letter even when he has time. I have been hurried with watch work till I positively refused to take in any more. I can hardly get off that was as there is no one here to repair them and I have as good a chance as anyone in the army.
You say it is “freezing cold October 22.” That does seem quite strange at that time. I could have stayed over noght in the open air with one blanket & have been comfortable, even now, one month & seven days later, I find it pleasant—so much so that I will write this letter one quarter mile from camp on a little hill & beneath a large pine tree. I suppose this will seem equally strange to you. Such a proceeding would be apt to make your fingers cold at least. We have but little freezing weather so far—not even nights. Our men stand guard without overcoats or blankets. Last night was the coldest we have had since we came here.
It is very strange that letters are so long going & coming from the North. I have sometimes felt like my correspondents had all quit, but I find the difficulty is with the mail & male, as well as the females.
You say you live in peace with no fear of interruption by an enemy. Do you think we are different from you in regard to this matter? I suppose that is the common opinion of those at home, but I assure you it’s not a correct one. On the contrary, we eat well with healthy, natural appetites, sleep as soundly as we could possibly sleep at home, and have no fears of any enemy. You may think this very strange but it is true. Men called up so often become indifferent to such things. They have no fears. On the contrary, I never saw a more merry set of men in my life. I don’t suppose we think half as much about the dangers of war as our friends at home who know nothing of our situation. If they could see us comfortably situated in our cozy little bunks, they would reast easier than many seem to about their friends. There; that’s a great “d.” A rabbit came very near running over me & scared that letter out.
Now you might say I have contradicted myself. But know the difference between “impulsive fright” and fear of an attack by an enemy. I fear your mind is more at war with the peace & harmony of your own soul than mine is now. If those at home could only know how merry & happily we get along, they would not think so much about the hardships that they imagine we have to undergo. I am really disappointed in the service. I find it easier than I expected.
I have not told you that I am well but you may know that. I think I am more mischievous than I ever was at home.
The company is getting along very well. [Stephen Waite] Cree is well. Very doubtful about his going home on furlough now. I should not advise him to go now. I still think the war will end soon & if it does, he can save his party dolls.
Our train of wagons was captured a short time ago—ten in all—between here & Little Rock by the rebs. They took all the mules & as much clothing as they could put on their mules, burnt two ammunition wagons, & took the men with them that were so unfortunate as to be in the train except the Cavalry guards who, being too few to the reb force, made their way into our lines. Two of our company were among the unlucky ones—one being just from the hospital was too feeble to ride for as fast as they went, fell off and found his way after night to a house where he was kindly cared for & brought to our pickets next day. This was T[homas] E. Dooley.
John [E. R.] Wright was taken to the rebel Gen. Marmaduke’s camp & there kept as prisoner for two weeks. Was brought [back] after being robbed of his money, knife, combs, & all the &c. that was on his person. He says he was treated & received the same fare that the rebs had themselves. They have no covering or shelter of any kind, night or day, and have but one meal a day & that of the coarsest kind of cornbread & beef. They move their camp daily in order to obtain forage as that is their own, as well as their horses, sole dependence for a subsistence. They are very much demoralized. Price’s army is fast dwindling down. Their guns are all kinds and ammunition so scarce that he did not hear a single shot fired during his stay among them.
The “Mountain Feds” as we call them, from the western part of the state, mostly are fast organizing here & receiving their clothing—regularly enlisted. Arkansas will be able to take care of itself in a short time.
Things are very high here. Flour $8 per hundred lbs. & other things to correspond. It is about supper time so I quit this time. It wouldn’t do for me to miss my supper, you know. I expect we will have mush for supper. We do every day or two.
Hoping you won’t be so long writing nor the letter so long coming as before. I remain as ever, affectionately your brother, — J. G. Miller
Letter 4
Addressed to Miss Lydia A. Miller, Saylorsville, Polk county, Iowa
Vicksburg, Mississippi February 13, 1864
Dear Sister Lydia,
I received yours of January 31st day before yesterday, but being busy with fixings in camp, I did not get a chance to answer before. We left Little Rock the day your letter wasdated and arrived at Memphis February 4th. Stayed there two days and came down the river to this place expecting to rejoin our regiment but we are too late. They have gone with the forces that left here a few days before we came. I hardly know whether to think we are lucky or unlucky, but being unlucky enough to miss our regiment makes us lucky enough to miss a good deal of hard marching and the hardships connected with it.
At any rate, we are camped below the city in comfortable tents where we will mosly likely remain till the expedition returns—if return it does. No one here knows its destination but a strong force left Memphis & I understand than one left New Orleans and one is to leave Chattanooga for a probable concentration on some point in the Confederacy known only to the leaders of our troops and they may wind up the rebellion before they return. I have no doubt but they will give the great wheel that is to wind up this rebellion a smart turn before they get back.
Our boys had another fight at Jackson as they went out. We got quite a number of prisoners. Some of them tell us that the conscripted rebs will desert as they did the very first opportunity although they say they knew nothing of Abe’s proclamation of pardon. I think the rebs have succeeded in suppressing it from the army or [at least] this part of the rebel army.
The weather is very pleasant and too warm through the day. The river is rising slowly and at a good stage now.
This is a pretty fast place but not so fast as Little Rock—about the same size of Little Rock. Nature made this place a very strong one and with what the rebs done, it is no wonder our boys were so long taking it. But it is a wonder to me that they took it at all. We cannot find a hill or bench of earth however small but that there is a hole or holes dug into it for men to hide in—yes, & sometimes their families. Scarecely a house but what has been hit with a cannon ball.
I sent some money to you by Express from Memphis, Tennesee. I also sent a few lines with it. I still think the rebs cannot hold out very much longer or else I should try for a furlough. But I still think it won’t last long. Then when I go home, I can stay. Have you sold your melodeon yet? I hope not. Affectionately your brother, — J. G. Miller
You talk of having little time to compose a readable letter. If I should stop to read mine over many times, I should not send them for they are thoughts just as they occur without a moment’s reflection. — J. G. M.
Letter 5
Directed to Miss Lydia A. Miller, Saylorville, Polk county, Iowa
Berlin, Hardin county, Iowa August 3rd 1865
Miss Lydia A. Miller,
Lt. Samuel Wheaton Griffin of Co. B, 32nd Iowa Infantry (watercolor made from poor image on Ancestry.com)
Madam, I have in my possession some property left by Sergt. Joseph G. Miller who died while a prisoner of war at Camp Ford, Texas. I presume you had learned of his decease long ‘ere this. His sickness which was somewhat lingering, was borne with a great deal of patience & fortitude. He lies in the same burial ground of some 300 other Federal soldiers. I had some good substantial boards placed at his grave, marked with his name, regiment, and the date of his decease. Among his things are four photographs of himself, three gold finger rings, some notes, receipts, Memorandum Book, &c. &c. I would send them to you immediately if I was sure of your address. Please let me know as soon as convenient how I shall send them—by Express or otherwise, and how to direct them. Sergt. Miller was very much respected by his associates.
Respectfully yours, — S. W. Griffin
Letter 6
Rockford September 10th, 1865
Dear Miss Miller,
I almost sicken at taking my pen to write you. I have done so so many times without obtaining an answer. But last month I received a letter from a strange woman signing herself “Lydia Miller” in answer to my letter to you, which explained your silence, but did not explain to me how I might direct that my letters might reach you.
I have longed Oh! so much to hear from you, thinking I might hear from the loved one and of his last sickness. I have still written hoping that you might not altogether forget me in your own great trouble. But you probably have never received the letters as there seems to be another of your name in Des Moines. And today alone in my room, I have been reading over my precious treasures—his letters—and who lived with my great loss, my hungry heart cries out for the love and sympathy of his friends. These Autumn days keep him constantly in my mind. One year ago he lived, but how shall I live through the 20th alone with the wild, heart-breaking memories it will bring. He is in my night dreams, my waking thoughts and today my heart cries out for him just as sadly as when I first found that his noble heart had ceased to beat. And I beg for your love as my only comfort.
I leave Rockford for Webster City, my home, in two weeks. If you receive this, may I hear from you as soon as I get there? Then I will write you more fully. Give my love to that dear Mother that I have heard of so much. I pray every night that God will comfort you all and incline your hearts to love me.
Excuse this hastily written note. I have written so many times without an answer that I am discouraged. I shall direct to you as teach in the public schools—the only way I can devise to secure to you the reception as I know none of your family’s names. With much love, from —Sue L. Hillock
Unfortunately the branch of the Carter family tree from whence Joseph Carter descended is so poorly documented that I have not been able to identify him genealogically. We only know for certain that he wrote this letter to his uncle, Benjamin Franklin Carter (1823-1894) of Woodbury, Gloucester county, New Jersey. Benjamin was married to Elizabeth M. Reeves in 1854. An obitary for Benjamin gives his birthplace as Philadelphia in 1823, the son of Joseph Carter but that is all.
This letter is from the private collection of Greg Herr and was transcribed and published on Spared & Shared by express consent.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Directed to Benjamin F. Carter, Post Master, Woodbury, Gloucester county, New Jersey
Colorado River September 26, 1862
Dear Uncle,
Grandmother received your ever welcome letter and was glad to hear from you, that all were well. The reason why I did not join the army was because I had seen so much in a soldier’s life at this post. The larger part of the soldiers who enter the army in California lose all self respect and become very degraded in their habits. They also learn to drink liquor to pass away their time because they lead a very lazy life.
I have been to the mines since I last wrote to you. I stayed there some three or four weeks but was not successful in mining. Within the last two or three days, a large number of persons have arrived from the mines. They say that the mines are worked out. I think Mother will go to San Francisco this November to remain there.
Col. James Henry Carleton (1814-1873), commanded the California Column as it advanced across California, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas.
Father and I expect to go up in the spring. We are going to stop here with the expectation of a very brisk winter for business.
It has been a long time since we heard from New Orleans. Mother and Father are enjoying very good health at present. Grandma is well also and sends much love to all. We have not heard anything from Colonel [James Henry] Carleton’s command for fifty-five days, which went on to the Rio Grande.
No news of importance at present. Mother joins me in much love to all enquiring friends. I must now close hoping to hear from you soon I remain your nephew truly, — Joseph Carter
The following letter was written by Pvt. William S. Cooper (b. 1843), the son of James Cooper, Jr. (1809-1870) and Susanna M. Travis (1808-1867) of Fairbury, Livingston county, Illinois. He enlisted on 11 October 1861 in Co. C, 39th Illinois Infantry (“Yates’ Phalanx”) and was discharged for disability on 12 December 1863.
William wrote his letter from the parole hospital at Annapolis Maryland in mid-October 1862. He was taken prisoner on 26 May 1862 at Strasburgh, Virginia, and spent the summer held in Confederate prisons until he was sent to Annapolis to await exchange. His health precluded his ever returning to his regiment, however. After he was discharged, he relocated to Colorado.
This letter is from the personal collection of Greg Herr and was offered for transciption and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
U. S. General Hospital Annapolis, Maryland October 13th 1862
Dear Aunt,
I received your kind letter dated October 4th ’62 read gladly and I now hasten to answer it. I am still in the hospital as you may know for the hospital and prison has been my home ever since the 1st of last November when I had the easles, but I am getting some better now. I can walk around most all day now but I am lame in my left knee yet. If it was well, I would be all right. But I am afraid it never will entirely [be] sound.
I was never more surprised than when I read in your letter Boyd 1 had enlisted. I think Illinois has done well—especially Livingston county. I hope Boyd will shoot ever secessionist he sees, whether soldier or citizen for one is as bad as the other. If there is any difference, the citizen is the worst.
You spoke about prisoners at liberty to go home. It is not the case here. Our only chance would be to buy a suit of citizen’s clothes and then take a French pass—that is, to go without leave of absence which is a rather dangerous business. Besides, I am exchanged and when I am discharged from the hospital, I will be sent to my regiment and not to parole camp where I expected I would go. When I get to my regiment, I will try and get a furlough to come home a while.
What is the reason neither of the Carson boys enlisted? Have they too much business to see to, or are they afraid of the bullets? Maybe they can’t leave mama. Poor fellows. Tell them they had better not risk themselves so far from Mother—especially down in Dixie for they bite. If I was there, I think I should talk Rebel to them so they would feel a little ashamed of themselves. I think of other men can’t go and leave wife and everything that one of them, having nothing more to see by, might find courage enough for one of them to go and help put down a mob that are trying to break up the best government that ever existed—a government that has, and will (if restored) protect them, [and] their rights and liberties. If they are afraid to fight for it, they are not worthy of the name of an American.
If my leg was well, I would rather have my old musket and be with the Army than to hang back and see others going. I do hope I will get well again so I can join my company. I would like to upset a few Virginians to pay them for starving me so long this summer.
When you write to Boyd, tell him never to [be] taken prisoner. I would rather die. Tell him to write to me. I will write to him right away. I wrote a long letter to you and him since the first one I wrote and you will see there how [I was] treated. When you read it, send it to him.
Well now, dear Aunt, I will stop for the present by promising you I will write soon again. And you must write as soon [and] as often as you can. Direct as before. Goodbye. Your nephew, — Wm. S. Cooper
[In a different hand]
Jane, you may think I am rather impudent to open your letters but were anxious to hear from William. I have been sick. I was taken on Wednesday morning with erysipelas and have not been able to raise myself in bed without help. I am braced up in bed now. Hat has come to stay with me. I am done out. — Mary Ann Morrison
1 Boyd P. Tanner (1838-1863) enlisted in August 1862 and mustered into Co. E, 129th Illinois Infantry on 8 September 1862. He died of disease on 18 January 1863 at Fountain Head, Tennessee. He was married to Sarah Jane Harlan (1837-1929) in 1858. After Boyd’s death, she married Jesse Greene (1829-1912) in 1864and lived out her days in Pontiac.
The following letter was written by Henry Atwood Breed of Co. F, 155th Pennsylvania Infantry. Henry enlisted on 22 August 1862 and was soon after made the Orderly Sergeant of his company by Capt. John Markle. He was later commissioned 2nd Lieutenant of Co. F but discharged on a surgeon’s certificate on 3 October 1863. This regiment was organized at Pittsburg in September and moved immediately to join the Army of the Potomac where they were attached to the 2nd Brigade, 3rd Division, 5th Army Corps. They did not arrive at Sharpsburg, Maryland, until after the Battle of Antietam. Their first engagement was in the Battle of Fredericksburg in mid-December 1862 when Capt. Lee Anshultz of Co. C was mortally wounded, and the entire color guard of the regiment was either killed or wounded in the assault on Marye’s Heights. A regimental loss at Fredericksburg was 68 killed, wounded, and missing.
Artist’s sketch of the 155th Penna. Vol. private going off to war.
The 155th Pennsylvania Volunteers were issued standard union attire, consisting of a dark blue forage cap, a 9- button frock/dress coat (thigh length coat) of the same color with blue piping, 4-button dark blue sack coat, and light blue trousers, and brogans. Later in the war, January 1864, they were outfitted in a Zouave uniform. When they were first organized, they were issued surplus Belgian Rifles with sword bayonets. These weapons upon inspection in Washington, D.C. were determined to be unfit for use in battle, by Captain A.T.A. Torbert, USA. The men of Co. K remarked in their history that “The guns were said to kill at 1,000 yards but on examination we found they would not be dangerous to the enemy unless we got close enough to bayonet or club him” The government then issued old style muzzle loader, “Buck & Ball”, Springfield Rifles, more known as Harper’s Ferry Rifles. These weapons only proved to be effective at very close range, not being much use to the combat of the time. After the Battle of Gettysburg, Colonel Cain who had been requesting more effective weapons for his men, collected newer 1861 Springfields from the thousands of dead union soldiers. Which they would continue to use till the end of the war.
This letter is from the private collection of Greg Herr and was made available for transciption & publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Half a mile from Fort Ellsworth 6 miles from Washington September 10th 1862
Friend Cornie,
Well here I am in Dixie, encamped on the side of a hill on the ground with my knapsack for a desk, & the sun pouring down for we have no tents & there are no trees on the ground. We arrived here last evening at ten o’clock but I think I had better go back to Pittsburgh & take a fair start.
We left Pittsburgh at 9 o’clock. Part of the company and I were in an open frieght car next to the engine, the smoke & soot coming in pretty thick. It was a coal burning engine & such a dirty set as we were in the morning, you never saw. Just like coal diggers. We got to Harrisburg next morning at 10, spent the day in town, getting our arms & equipments, spent the night & next day at Camp Curtin & at midnight of Friday, left in freight cars for Baltimore. The weather was beautiful & Lieutenant [John] Markle & I rode about 20 miles on the cow catcher. It was grand. I shall do so every time I get the chance.
We arrived at Washington Saturday night. I had a piece of bread for supper. Slept in barracks near the depot. Had a very good breakfast of coffee, bread, and fresh beef. Walked round the City until eleven o’clock, and then started to march to “Camp Chase.” We crossed the Long Bridge and got to camp at three. It was very warm & dusty & we had nothing until Tuesday morning but crackers & pork. Indeed we had had no regular meal after we left home except dinner at Harrisburg & breakfast at Washington. But “who wouldn’t be a soldier.” I have not felt hungry or real tired since I left.
Monday our tents arrived & we had just got fixed when yesterday afternoon, the order came to sling knapsacks, strike tents, and march. We started at six o’clock, marched eight miles, arriving here at ten. We slept in the open air. I would rather do so than sleep in tents as long as the weather is pleasant. We have plenty of room. The road was very dusty and as we were the third company from the rear, there was a perfect cloud of dust. We were covered from head to foot. You would certainly have laughed if you had seen me. We “run” each other some about such things, digging ditches, &c., but for my part, I think we are better friends for it.
There, I had to stop & prepare to receive rain. We had no tents & had to cover our rifles & ammunition of which we received forty rounds to each man today. It rained slowly for half an hour & then cleared up. Our tents came at seven o’clock, but the wagon with ours is upset a quarter of a mile from camp and we had to go out & carry them in & then pitch them by moonlight. It was a beautiful scene—the mule teams and white wagons, the men running to & fro with noise & bustle & the scene lit up by candles, the cook fires, and the silvery sheen of waving moon. We are expecting orders to march every minute. Where to, I [have] not the slightest idea.
From the hill above Camp Chase we had a fine view of the Potomac, Washington City, &c., but here we see nothing. The forts of which we heard so much a year ago are all around us. They are kept in perfect order except that some of the guns have been taken away. The trees are all cut down where they obstruct the range of the guns. The country is beautiful but ruin & desolation reign. No moving thing is seen except soldier, baggage wagons, and ambulances. We are just back of Alexandria & several womnen & girls have been in camp with pies, &c., but a look at them is enough for me.
I was appointed Orderly Sergeant at Harrisburg. My position is the hardest in the company. I have very littletime except after six in the evening, but I would rather be busy than lying idle half the time, playing cards, &c. I like camp life so far very well. The novelty may wear off in time & get to be an story, but I expect to make the best of it and not get down hearted. I have many things to remind me of those left behind, one of which—a photograph—does remind me of one whose best wishes I know I carry with me while in Virginia’s “bloody soil.” One with whom I connect my dearest recollections. I had no opportunity to thank you, Cornie, for your photograph and accompanying note, but I do so now. I expected to have seen you again & thanked you in person. But we left very suddenly. I wanted to say goodbye in a less abrupt manner but I consider myself very fortunate in seeing [you] at all. I intended to have asked you to write to me, but I can do so now. I had no idea of speaking of it as I did at your gate, but will let that pass.
I am writing in my tent with my candle between two shoes for a candstick, so under the circumstances I hope you will excuse my bad writing, blots, &c. But it is eleven o’clock. I must write to Father, go to sleep, and be up at reveille at half past five to call the roll. Remember me very kindly to your Father & Mother & sisters. And if this unworthy scroll deserves an answer, address: Orderly H. A. Breed, Care of Capt. John Markle, Co. F, 155th Regt. Penna. Vols., (Col. Allen’s Regiment), Washington D. C.
And believe me your sincere friend, — Henry A. Breed
P. S. Near Fort Worth, September 11, 1862. I had intended to send this letter this morning but at half past one this morning, Col. Allen woke me up and ordered me to have the men pack their knapsacks and prepare to march. The regiment was drawn up & we loaded our rifles with ball, and started. Marched three miles to this place, arriving at daylight. We had breakfast at four this afternoon. I am beginning to see something of a soldier’s life. This morning it rained hard but I put on my overcoat, lay down on the wet ground, & slept two hours. We are in a large, level field & can see the Capitol. Not a fence to be seen, all having been used for fire wood. Col. Clark’s Regiment from Allegheny is just now over the road from us.
One of the officers told me that we would probably stay here two or three days & then go out to the front of the army & either do picket duty or dig rifle pits (now laught). I have tried to find out where Will and Albert Dilworth’s regiment is but can learn nothing about them. Our tents have come & we are comfirtable again but I fear I have written too much already of such uninteresting matter, so good night. — Henry
Pip: There is something quietly remarkable about a fifteen-year-old boy writing home from the siege lines at Petersburg to remind his brother not to ride the horse too much — and meaning every word of it.
Mara: That letter is one of several Griff has published this week on Spared and Shared 23, pulling together soldiers writing to family and a pair of cousins keeping up a correspondence across the war years.
Pip: Letters that were never meant to be history — just news from wherever the regiment happened to be camped that week.
Mara: Let's start with the soldiers and the letters they sent home.
Soldiers Writing To Family
Mara: The question running through all of these letters is a simple one: what do you actually say to the people at home when the gap between your world and theirs has become almost impossible to bridge?
Pip: Richard Coke Marshall, writing to his sister from camp near Culpeper Court House in August 1863, threads that needle with a kind of matter-of-fact intimacy. He sets up the stakes plainly: "We are now so close to the Yankees that we can hear their drums and bugles as distinctly as our own."
Mara: And then in the same letter he pivots to laundry. He cannot find anyone to wash his clothes in the deserted countryside and suspects he is grinding the dirt in rather than getting it out. The domestic and the dangerous exist in the same paragraph without any apparent tension.
Pip: That compression is the whole thing, isn't it — the letter has to carry everything at once because there may not be another one soon.
Mara: Manning Austin's letter to his sister Julia, written from Leesburg in June 1863, does something similar but at higher velocity. Austin had just come through the cavalry engagements around Middleburg, where three squadrons charged Confederate-held woods after the First Maine was repulsed. He describes tracking down a man he shot, finding him where he fell, shot through the heart.
Pip: He reports it the way you'd report finding a lost tool.
Mara: William Brimblecom, writing from the Field Hospital at City Point in April 1865, has the opposite register entirely — almost literary. He describes the final assault on Petersburg: "Minié balls buzzed like mad hornets, round shot screamed like angry hawks, and shells burst so that one could almost read by the light of them."
Pip: What that sentence is actually doing is telling his mother he was calm through all of it — cool as a cucumber, he says, while his lieutenant was too scared to speak and his captain ran for a ravine.
Mara: Brimblecom's letter carries a second weight. He enlisted under a false name, James Maynard, apparently to escape shame connected to his drinking. He closes by telling his mother the rum is out of him now, and he hopes it stays out, but cannot promise.
Pip: The war as detox program — not the framing the recruiting posters used.
Mara: John Laur's thirty-two letters to his parents span August 1864 through May 1865, and they are a different kind of document entirely. Laur was fifteen when he enlisted, almost certainly with the recruiting officer's knowledge. There is no patriotism in the letters — he wanted the adventure and the bounty money, and he says so plainly.
Mara: The letters are full of practical logistics: overcoats sent home, stamps requested, the box of food that took weeks to arrive and arrived with the chickens moldy. He worries about whether his father will be drafted and tells him to use the bounty to hire a substitute if it comes to that.
Pip: Thirty-two letters and not one of them tries to sound like a soldier. They sound like a teenager who happens to be at Petersburg.
Mara: Earl Byron Pierce's letter from Harpers Ferry in October 1862 is the shortest and the most haunting in retrospect. He wrote it barely a month after muster, ten weeks before he was killed at Fredericksburg. He mentions that Lincoln came through and looked about the same as he did passing through North East, Pennsylvania. He tells his brother not to enlist because he could never stand it.
Pip: John Avery's letter to his friend Charles Cooley from Camp Wool in August 1862 has that same reassuring energy — he likes it well and dandy, he says, and he would not come back until the war is closed. The regiment had not yet seen a battle.
Mara: The letters that survive are often the ones written before things got hard, or after, when the writer had made a kind of peace with where they were. The ones from the middle tend not to make it home at all.
Marshall And Christy Correspondence
Pip: The Christy letters add a different angle — not soldier to family but soldier to cousin, which allows for a slightly different kind of honesty.
Mara: William Christy, writing to his cousin Achsah Marshall from Pittsburg Landing in April 1862, just days after Shiloh, puts it directly: "I could stand in one place and count 300 dead."
Pip: That is not a detail you soften for a cousin. That is a detail you need someone to know.
Mara: His brother Marshall Christy writes Achsah three years later from Goldsboro, North Carolina, and the tone has shifted entirely — he is almost playful, complimenting her letter-writing, teasing a cousin named Louis about penmanship. The war is nearly over and he knows it, and the letter reads like someone beginning to think about what comes next.
Pip: From counting the dead at Shiloh to critiquing correspondence style by April 1865. That is the arc of three years in two letters.
Mara: What stays with you across all of these is how consistent the impulse is — tell them you are well, ask about the youngest sibling, say you will write again soon.
Pip: The form held even when everything else was falling apart. Next time, more of what the mail carried back.
Spared & Shared 23 