1873: Phineas Talcott to Frederick Talcott

May 29, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

The following letter was written by Phineas Talcott (1845-1940), the son of Allyn Talcott (1800-1863) and Martha Goodrich Robbins (1808-1896) of Vernon, Tolland county, Connecticut. He addressed his letter to “Friend Fred” whom I feel certain was actually his younger brother Frederick Talcott (1850-1919), despite his use of the word “friend.” From the envelope we learn that Fred was working as a clerk for the Gorham Manufacturing Company in Providence, Rhode Island at the time. It was the largest American manufacturer of sterling and silverplate.

Phineas was 28 years old when he wrote this letter, describing his existence as “a Mark Twain Life.” He was likely alluding to the recently published work by Samuel Clemens titled “Roughing It,” which detailed the realities of western mining camps with a comedic lens. Phineas’ challenges as a sales agent for the Howe Sewing Machine Company are treated with a degree of levity, a style characteristic of Mark Twain.

The letter is dated December 12, 1873—just weeks following the Panic of 1873, which instigated a national economic crisis particularly detrimental to frontier enterprises. The loss of his own employment compels him to state, “I have got to skin out,” a phrase that reflects both the urgent necessity to depart swiftly and the prevailing culture of constant movement and activity that characterized many young men on the frontier after the Civil War, who generally bore minimal responsibilities.

Census records inform us that after his western adventures, Phineas returned to Vernon, Connecticut, where he started a dry goods store.

*Denver, Colorado Territory, in the early 1870s.*

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

*Addressed to Frederick Talcott, Esq., Providence, Rhode Island*

Denver [Colorado Territory]
December 12, 1873

Friend Fred,

Well Old Boy, how do you do after so long? I suppose you will think me a hard crowd for not writing before. Well, Fred, all excuses are foolish so here I go. I am well. As you see by my heading, in site of Pike’s Peak, and have been Bust and Rebust and am getting use to it.

I cannot tell you much of my experience in so little a space as this letter allows me, but I will try and give you a few points. I have been in Denver one month and I tell you, Fred, have passed through the Wars and yet I am not happy. I have been Agent for the Howe Sewing Machine but they have Bust too and, to use the phrase [in common use] here, I have got to skin out.

I expect to leave here in two days. Am going up the Platt River a number of miles to a ranch to go hunting with a man who has been rooming with me. He is a Brick and has been a gunner in the army four years so you see he is prepared for war while there is yet peace. Lots of deer & antelope are brought in here every day. I have seen about 200 antelope on the plains coming here but was not near enough to hit any—but expect to soon.

You ought to have seen me talking with an Indian Chief the other day. I made slow work of it. But [I] am getting use to it some. I wish you could see some of them red devils in their war paint. This is their phrase for anything large: “Ug, heap Indian,” or “Heap building.” Everything is “heap” when large.

Well Fred, I have led a Mark Twain life. I wish you were with me. There is no better country for health than here. The view of the Rocky Mountains is grand. No words of mine can do them justice or convey to you the Grand sight of them. Send greeting to our friends. — P. Talcott

Weekly Summary Podcast

Spared & Shared Podcast 2: Week ending May 29, 2026

May 29, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

Pip: Letters written in pencil, on knapsacks, in the rain, beside rivers with green water — Spared and Shared 23 arrives with a full mailbag.

Mara: All of it from Griff, who has assembled a wide range of primary sources this episode — soldiers writing home from active campaigns, a pre-war letter from a naval officer at a fashionable resort, and families writing across the distances that war and life opened up between them.

Pip: Let's start with the soldiers themselves — the ones writing from the front.

—

Writing Through the War: Voices From the Field

Mara: What these letters collectively document is the psychological and physical texture of soldiering — not the grand narrative of battles, but the daily reality of mud, bad coffee, guard duty, and the slow realization that war is nothing like what the recruits imagined.

Pip: The post anchoring this segment follows Charles E. Koonts of Co. E, 19th Ohio Volunteer Infantry — seventeen years old at enlistment, dead at Chickamauga before he turned nineteen, and the writer of twenty-seven letters to his younger sister Clara across nearly two years of service.

Mara: The early letters capture a voice still adjusting to camp life. In October 1861, writing from Alliance, Ohio, he tells Clara: "I have nothing of any importance to say as I am here in camp and nothing going on. But I expect that we shall leave here pretty soon as the regiment is about full."

Pip: That sentence is doing a lot of work. Nothing to say, and yet he writes anyway — because writing to Clara is the thing that keeps the distance manageable.

Mara: The post frames the arc precisely. Before Shiloh, soldiers wrote about hoping to see a battle. After it, the post notes, "they wrote about hoping to survive the next one. It was a grim jolt of reality that hardened the young men almost overnight." Koonts' later letters bear that out — detailed accounts of the fighting at Stones River, requests for shirts and fine combs, opinions on generals, and a strikingly bitter postscript warning Clara away from a man he calls "a contemptible snake."

Pip: The mundane and the devastating sitting in the same envelope.

Mara: Two other letters in this segment offer useful counterpoints. William Hunting Rogers of the 98th New York writes to his brother Ed in April 1862 from Newport News, watching the CSS Virginia — the Merrimack — patrol the James River within a mile and a half of camp. He's playing euchre, getting a tooth filled at Fort Monroe, and reporting on the ironclad standoff with a mix of frustration and dark fascination.

Pip: And then there's Augustus Adams of the 25th Massachusetts, writing from the same Newport News in November 1863 — rebel torpedoes floating down the James, the whole brigade under marching orders, a sister named Julia whose health is "no better."

Mara: Joseph Nellist of the 28th New York writes to his wife Loretta from Darnestown, Maryland, in October 1861 — cold nights on guard duty, one woman in the entire regiment, and an eight-year-old drummer boy in soldiers' clothes. Arthur Aldrich of the 13th New Hampshire writes to his father-in-law from Portsmouth, Virginia, in March 1864, cheerful about rebel prisoners and matter-of-fact about his malaria. Charles Huntington of the 9th New York Cavalry writes to a friend named Hattie from Camp Fenton on New Year's Eve 1861, gossiping about neighbors back home. And the unidentified James P. M., writing from Dalton, Georgia, in May 1864, passes his letter by flag-of-truce boat and reports that of all his old friends from before the war, he can "hardly count ten — all beneath the sod of the battlefield or disappeared God knows where."

Pip: Charles Ballou of the 9th Rhode Island rounds it out — a three-month garrison soldier who spent a day touring Washington and left his name scratched into the Capitol plaster.

Mara: Taken together, these letters map the full emotional range of the war — from boredom and homesickness in the opening months to grief and exhaustion by 1864. The families writing back complete that picture.

Pip: Which is exactly where we go next.

—

Home Front: Letters Across the Distance

Mara: The letters in this segment come from the other direction — from parents, siblings, and spouses writing toward the front, and from one pre-war correspondent writing from a sulphur spring in Virginia.

Pip: The anchor here is Ralph DeLancey Izard III, a young naval officer writing in July 1841 from White Sulphur Springs to his physician. He describes the resort's famous mineral water as tasting like "a solution of gunpowder."

Mara: What that letter captures is the texture of elite antebellum correspondence — social observation, careful health updates, a dry wit about the resort's policy of housing bachelors separately from married guests. John B. Martin's 1834 letter to an old friend in Alabama covers similar personal ground before turning into a detailed critique of Andrew Jackson's presidency, nullification, and Martin Van Buren. And Catharine Bramkamp's 1865 letter to her brother in Ohio reports that her husband William was drafted, traveled twice to Cairo to report, and was sent home both times — the second time because Lincoln had just been killed and the office was closed.

Pip: The Anderson family letters — Parney and John Anderson writing to their son Emerson in the 2nd Massachusetts — are the emotional spine of this group. Relief at his survival after Winchester, careful instructions about what to put in a care package, a Thanksgiving letter that notes the absent son "was not forgotten, neither at the Festival board nor at the alter."

Mara: Distance measured in letters, stamps, and the anxiety of not knowing whether any of them arrived.

—

Pip: What stays with you across all of it is how much of the war was just waiting — waiting to march, waiting for pay, waiting to hear back.

Mara: And writing through the wait, because the letters were the connection. Next episode, more from Spared and Shared.

13th New Hampshire Infantry

1864: Arthur Rupell Aldrich to Wells Wright

May 28, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

*I could not find an image of Arthur Aldrich but here is a great tintype of Pvt. George H. Bannister who served with Arthur in Co. H, 13th New Hampshire Infantry. (Photo Sleuth)*

The following letter was written by Arthur Rupell Aldrich (1844-1918), the son of Jeremiah B. H. Aldrich (1812-1861) and Betsey Applebee (1819-1893) of Pittsburg, Coos county, New Hampshire. Arthur was married to Violetta T. Wright (1835-1909). He wrote this letter to his father-in-law, Wells Wright (1810-1884) of Pittsburg, Coos county, New Hampshire.

Arthur wrote the letter from Portsmouth, Virginia, on 1 March 1864, while serving in Co. H, 13th New Hampshire Infantry. He enlisted on 4 January 1864 and mustered out on 21 June 1865 after having transferred into Co. B, 2nd New Hampshire Infantry. While in Portsmouth, the regiment was engaged in garrison and picket duty. Not long after, they were reassigned to the 18th Army Corps (Army of the James).

[Editor’s Note: The first transcript of this letter was kindly prepared by Abbey Weber Jones.]

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

Portsmouth, [Virginia]
March 1, 1864

Absent Father,

I now sit down to write a few lines to you to let you know that I am well and hope that these few lines will find you the same. I have not much to write but it is fine weather here now, but the sand flies as bad as bad as bad as you ever see the snow. The boys are all well that went from our place. The old boys are thinking some of going home to March meeting but I think that they will go.

I should like [to] come home to see how things are going on, but I don’t think that [I] shall come home until this war is settled. But I think that we shall give the rebels hell this summer and it will be a[n] end to a great many [lives] before that it is settled. But the rebels are a coming in every day. I see[n] one of them prisoners that got away from Richmond and he said that the rebels had got almost discouraged and a good many of the officers.

We took a rebel spy the other [night] he had the plans of the campground and the forts and everything. And we just took the young gent and put him in Norfolk jail and he will be apt to stay there until this war is ove[r].

I don’t think of much more to write. I am troubled with the Shakes [malaria] some, but not so bad as I was when I first came out here. David Moody and James Bacon was some homesick when they first came out but they are getting over it some. The rest of the boys enjoy themselves very well. A soldier’s life is the easiest life that a man can live, for they have more to eat than they want, and they have somebody to look after them. And when they was at home, they had to take care of themselves. So I think that a soldier stands a better chance than any other man, but I think that the war will be closed this summer so that we all can come home and tend to them meetings. I think that when the soldiers go home, they will take religion in abundance. I understand that some of the converts has backslidden—Silas especially. I don’t think [I have] much more to write this time. Tell Mary and Jules that [I] send my best respects to them and I would like to have them write to me and I will do the same. I must close now. Write as soon as you get this.

Yours respectfully, — Arthur R Aldrich

to Wells Wright. Direct your letters to Washington D. C. Co H, [13th] N H V

My pen is poor and my ink is pale. If you can’t read it, throw it away.

Illinois Homefront, Lincoln Assassination

1865: Catharine Wilhelmina (Speckmann) Bramkamp to John Christian Speckmann

May 28, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

The following letter was written by 25 year-old Catharine Wilhelmina (Speckmann) Bramkamp (1840-1928), the wife of 36 year-old German-emigrant William H. Bramkamp (1828-1900) of Massac county, Illinois. According to a Speckman family tree, William’s full name was Heinrich Friedrich Wilhelm Bramkamp. Catharine wrote the letter to her brother, Rev. John August Christian Speckmann (1837-1914) of Iron Furnace, Scioto county, Ohio, who was married to Amelia Miller Speckmann in 1858. Catharine mentions one of her children in the letter, Charles Conrad Bramkamp who was born on 20 August 1864.

Massac county, Illinois, borders the Ohio River just opposite Paducah, Kentucky. The town of Bramkamp, Germany, where William was born is located in the region of Lower Saxony approximately 55 miles south of the industrial center Bremen.

*Heinrich Friedrich Wilhelm Bramkamp and his wife, Catharine Wilhelmina Speckmann of Massac county, Illinois. Watercolor based on tiny thumbnail images of them on Ancestry.com*

[Editor’s Note: The first draft of this transcript was kindly prepared by Abbey Weber Jones.]

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

Massac County, Illinois
May 10th [18]65

Dear Sister-in-law and Brother,

I take my pen in hand to inform you that we are all well, only our Charles Conrad has got the hacking cough. But he is getting better now. I don’t know much news—only that the Lutherans has got a new preacher now (Old Lutherans). Winaker is in Liberia in the Old Church now. Our quarterly meeting was last Sunday but the P[residing] Elder was not here. This is the second time that he was not here.

Here in Massac, it is getting a little better now. [My husband] William has joined again. There has been some sins [among] the other members again. We are willing to serve the Lord yet with all our heart [even] if it does go to trials. Pray for us that we may stand fast.

Now I must write you that William was drafted. He had to go to Cairo two times for the first time he was there, the news came that Lincoln was dead so the office was closed. He came home on 5 day furlough and when he got there again, they told him to go home again without a furlough. Them that had to stay got back again before he went the second time but they said that the rest have to report yet. This is about all the news I know, so I will come to a close.

Dear Sister-in-law—and you forgot yet that you said that you didn’t know whether you would write. I would like to have you to write very much. Write soon. Our best respects to you all, — C. W. Bramkamp

Sophia says she can’t come to see you like she did when you lived here. She says you should move back here again; then she would come. She says she wants Simons and the baby’s likeness. She knew Simon yet, when John showed it to her.

9th Rhode Island Infantry, U. S. Capitol, US Marines, Washington Navy Yard

1862: Charles Edward Ballou to Mary Elizabeth Ballou

May 27, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

These two letters were written by Charles Edward Ballou (1843-1938) of Chepachet, Providence, Rhode Island. He was the son of Sabin A. Ballou (1818-1848) and Mary Ann Arnold (1821-1898). Charles and his brother, Henry Warren Ballou, enlisted in Co. F, 9th Rhode Island Infantry—a regiment that was raised in May 1862 for three months service to garrison the Washington D. C. forts during McClellan’s Peninsula Campaign. Company “A” was at Fort Greble, “B” at Fort Meigs, “C” at Fort Ricketts, “D” at Fort Snyder, “E” and “K” at Fort Baker, “F” at Fort Carroll, “G” at Fort Dupont, “H” at Fort Wagner, “I” at Fort Stanton and “L” at Fort Davis. Mustered out September 2, 1862. Charles wrote the letter to his sister Mary Elizabeth Ballou (1845-1927).

Letter 1

Camp Frieze [Tennallytown, D. C.]
June 18, 1862

Dear Sister,

I was very glad to hear from you. I received your letter on the 18th and you said something about being homesick. I am well and have not thought anything about being home sick. Tell mother I am well and have gained nine pounds since I came out here. Tell her I am fatting up on stinking meat.

Yesterday, Co. B, 10th Regiment, went out and captured a small cannon about two miles from here. They broke in a barn. The man they took it from is a rebel. He was pretty mad but couldn’t help himself. Henry is well. He received your letter on the 18th. My company was on police duty today. Just as quick as I got your letter, I went to my tent and wrote this one. Henry and I are both in one tent. Tell mother if she sends a box, not to send a tea pot nor any tea. Tell her to send some plain cakes and some mine pies if she can. Tell her I had a chance to be a corporal but I wouldn’t take it.

A soldier’s life is a lazy one. I shall be so lazy when I get home that I can’t do anything. Tell mother that Josh Tibbets found a check of 15 dollars and signed his name to it. The Colonel of our regiment arrested him today and put him in the guardhouse. I heard this afternoon he was a going to be imprisoned. Tell mother to not say anything about it.

We have good living. We have to get up every morning at half past four. We have to drill an hour before breakfast. It’s tough but I am getting use to it. There are all Yanks but two in our tent. I heard they was getting up another regiment in Rhode Island. Tell Daniel Howland he ought ot be out here to kiss some of the yellow girls. Tell mother I will send my money home just as quick as I get it. Tell her she knows about what to send.

Henry said that mince pies wouldn’t keep. And tell her I would like to have some of her white bread. I love to hear from home. Write soon. I would write more if I could spell my words good. Give my love to all. So goodbye.

From your brother, — Charles E. Ballou

I am well. Give my love to all inquirers. — Henry W. Ballou, June the 18th. I would like to have you write plainer when you write.

Don’t say anything about Josh Tibbets. Get Sam to direct some envelopes and send to me.

Letter 2

Fort Carroll [Washington D. C.]
July 20, 1862

Dear Sister,

I now take my pen in hand to write you a few lines. I am well and hope this letter will find you the same. I hope so any[way].

Well, Mary, I went up to Washington yesterday and I saw more than I expect to see again. When we went into the Capitol, we went in one door and we walked about half an hour and fetched up right where we started from. So we started again and went upstairs and I tell you, they was stairs too. We saw some paintings of Generals Washington, and Jackson, and Scott, and all of the great generals. Every painting was as large as the side of a house. So we went up some more stairs. These stairs they called the winding stairs. We had to go right round and round. We went way up into the top [where] we could see all over Washington. All I could see when we was going upstairs was the [graffiti] names of the soldiers. There was four of us went together so we stopped and wrote our names on the plastering. So you see my name is [in] the Capitol. ¹

All the bread we have is baked there. They bake 60 loaves to a time. We could see about twenty miles out of the Capitol. I can’t think of all I see there. Well, we went round the park there. We saw some fish in places. I don’t know what they call them.

Washington is next to the nastiest city I have seen and that is Alexandria. It stinks enough there to knock a man down. Old dead horses lays all over the city. ² All the buildings in Washington that belong to the government is splendid ones, but about one half of them are old shanties.

Well, we went from the Capitol down to the Navy Yard [where] we saw some marines. They were all dressed in white. They had on white gloves. They looked as slick as a pin. I saw the gunboat Teazer ³ that was captured from the rebels week before last. There I [also saw that cannon that busted up James River—the one that killed so many. I saw all the guns that was captured down to Norfolk. There was about 200 of them. I see the guns that was on board of the Merrimack. They were all spiked but two or three. I saw four cannons that was bought [at] the time Louisiana was bought over 60 years ago. They were about 16 feet long. They came from France. They [were] some that Bonaparte had a long time ago.

¹ It isn’t clear from what vantage point the author of this letter was able to view the city as the top of the new US Capitol dome was not yet fully completed. It may have been to the very top where workmen were still erecting the Tholos. The Statue of Freedom was not placed at the very top until December 1863.

2 Being a major supply hub to the Union army, there was a large influx of cavalry mounts, artillery horses, and supply mules in the Quartermaster corrals. As temperatures soared in the summer of 1862, the volume of carcasses outpaced the city’s ability to burn or bury them.

³ The CSS Teaser was an armed tugboat that acted as a tender for the CSS Virginia during the Battle of Hampton Roads. The 12-pound rifled gun (pictured below) that she carried is now in the Hampton Roads Naval Museum.

9th New York Cavalry, Camp Fenton, Washington D. C.

1861: Charles Deforest Huntington to Friend Hattie

May 27, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

The following letter was written by Charles Deforest Huntington (1843-1869), the son of David Huntington (1812-1885) and Adaline Gordon (1815-1894) of East Randolph, Cattaraugus county, New York. Charles enlisted with his brother Monroe as a private in Co. E, 9th New York Cavalry. He mustered out of the regiment in late October 1861 with a surgeon’s certificate of disability.

Charles wrote this letter from Camp Fenton which was located north of Washington City on Meridian Hill about two miles from Pennsylvania Avenue.

*Patriotic header on Charles’ stationery*

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

Camp Fenton
December 30, 1861
Washington D. C.

Dear Friend Hattie,

I thought I would write a line to you and let you know how we are getting along out here in Washington. We are all well and growing fat and having lots of fun. We are going to get our pay in a few days and then I guess there will be a rattling in our pockets. The boys are all well. Cobern is as fit as a bear. His face looks [like] a side of pork. Monroe [Huntington] is homesick a little. Will[iam] Hills is getting better very fast.

It is warm and pleasant here. We held Christmas out here in camp. We had a nice dinner. We are going to have a New Years’ dance out in Washington but I am afraid that we can’t go to it. The girls are scarce out here in camp. There has not been a good looking one on the ground in two weeks. I have not seen a good looking girl since we left Albany. There is lots of nigger girls that come to do washing for the men. Some are as black as thunder.

I would like to be home and see you with the measles for it is fun. I think, don’t you? Nort[on] Miller has got them now. He is gaining very fast. How does Miss Camel and old Vansites get along? I heard that he went to see her. They would make a good match for he has got money enough to clothe her and make her happy. And George can marry Ellen and live with them and take care of them in their old age. And as for Mary, she can get a man most any time for she is as handsome as a doll. Most any man would be glad to get her—at least I would for she would be good to put in the cornfield to keep the crows off.

How does Frank and Ziller get along? I heard they had a fuss. I think Frank is good enough for her, don’t you? How does the school go off this winter? Does she have any spelling schools? Do any of the girls go to school this winter?

There is no news to write and so I will stop. Please answer this if you will for I should like to hear from you and your folks. Keep a share for yourself. Goodbye, — Charles Huntington

I wish you a Happy New Year!

28th New York Infantry, Drummer Boy

1861: Joseph J. G. Nellist to Loretta (Root) Nellist

May 27, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

Joseph spoke of his “likeness” being taken but no image could be found. This watercolor is from a reversed tintype of Graham Maffitt of Co. H, 28th New York Infantry. He wears the New York State issued jacket and NYS belt buckle that he reversed thinking it would appear correctly in the image. *The sword—and possibly the rifle—would have been studio props.* *(Photo Sleuth)*

The following letter was written by 21 year-old Joseph J. G. Nellist (1839-1896) who enlisted on 26 April 1861 at Lockport to serve two years in Co. K, 28th New York Infantry. He was taken prisoner on 9 August 1862 at Cedar Mountain, Virginia, paroled at Aiken’s Landing on 13 September 1862, and rejoined his regiment on 21 October 1862. This conflicts slightly from his claim on the 1890 Veterans Schedule that he spent “3 months in Libby Prison.” He mustered out of the service with his company on 2 June 1863.

Joseph was the son of George Nellist (1814-1858) and Ann Brecken (1815-1888) of Somerset, Niagara county, New York—Quakers, and both emigrants from England. He was married to Loretta E. Root (1842-1884) sometime between July 1860 when the US Census was taken and the date of his enlistment in 1861.

Most of the companies in the 28th New York Infantry—sometimes called the “Niagara Rifles”—were recruited in Niagara county, one of which was Co. K. It drew its roster from young men living in or near Lockport. On June 25, 1861, the regiment left the state for Washington D. C. where it was assigned on July 7 to Butterfield’s brigade, Keim’s division of Gen. Patterson’s force. They moved to Darnestown, Maryland, on 20 August 1861 and remained there until Oct. 20th, when they were ordered to Ball’s bluff but did not arrive in time to take part in the battle.

For a good description of the 28th New York at Cedar Mountain where Joseph was taken prisoner in August 1862, see “A combat more persistent or heroic can scarcely be found”—the 28th New York at Cedar Mountain.

[Editor’s Note: The first draft of this transcript was kindly prepared by Abbey Weber Jones.]

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

October 18, 1861
Camp Near Darnestown [Maryland]

My Dear & Affection[ate] Wife,

I once more have the opportunity of writing to you. I am well & the rest of the regiment is adjusting. I received your kind & loving letter today & was glad to hear from you. You say that you are at Mother’s now. I am glad that you stay with Mother some. I should think that Mother gets lonesome to be at home alone.

I think that I have one of the kindest mothers that ever was in the world. I don’t know what you think, but she writes that you are a clever & diligent & respectful daughter in law. You spoke about your likeness. I would like for you to send it. You spoke about my likeness—that you did not hardly know it. I was always a hard-looking chap, but the looks don’t make the person or the clothes; but it is the actions [that] speak louder than words.

You spoke of those sick girls. I met that one at the stone house. That was only my [sermon?]. You thought I [had] forgotten about [drunken] sprees. I cannot forget those tricks. Old friends is hard to forget. The worst of the business is we can’t get any whiskey or liquor. We have lots of dances most every night. There is any quantity of fiddles & banjos & most every other music. It makes the time fly fast & the boys merry. But the worst is we have only one woman in the regiment. That is singular, you will think, but each company is allowed four women but there is only one. Her husband is with her, so we see a woman once & a while. ¹

The flower of the regiment is we have a little boy that came to the regiment to Washington. He came to me when I was on post one morning most naked. His father is in the regulars here. His mother is a bad woman. One of the captains took him & clothed him with soldiers clothes. He is a drummer. He has got a drum & a little gun. He is only eight years old. He drums like everything. ²

You tell Morris to stay to home & take care of his mother & the rest of the things. I wish he could come to learn a lesson for his good. The army is no doubt the making of some rogues & some men. You said that you were getting sleepy. If I was there I would take the sleep out of you.

I want you to write more the next time. You have more time than I have & can write better than I can & have a better place to write. I take pleasure in reading a letter from you. I am writing now on my knapsack at the guard house. I am on guard today. I am the third relief. That is the best [relief]. We have to only be on [duty] only through the night. I oft think of you when I am on guard through the night. It is rough. It is very cold snow[y] nights, but warm days. But I have had only one blanket. Tonight I got one more. We got shirts the other day & drawers but have not got those clothes Mother sent yet, but the box is here but is not opened yet. I will finish on another sheet. I guess I won’t scribble anymore. The drum has beat for [illegible]. The guards have to stand to [illegible] through the [illegible]. — Joseph J. G. Nellist

¹ The presence of women in the camp was not unheard of in the early stages of the war, as a few men were sometimes permitted to bring their wives, provided they contributed through cooking or laundry services.

² Regrettably I cannot find any on-line resource to corroborate this claim though it is undoubtedly true.

Antebellum Virginia, White Sulphur Springs

1841: Ralph DeLancey Izard III to Ruschenberger

May 27, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

*No image of Ralph DeLancey Izard III exists to my knowledge; this is simply a “dark haired, grey-eyed” conjectured image.*

I believe the following letter was written by 23 year-old Ralph DeLancey Izard III (1819-1849), the son of Lt. Ralph DeLancey Izard (1785-1824) and Elizabeth Middleton (1787-1822) of Charleston, South Carolina. Lt. Izard, the father of the letter writer, was the son of Ralph Izard who served as a delegate to the Continental Congress and later a US Senator from South Carolina.

I could not find a biographical sketch for Ralph D. Izard III, but I have learned that he served in the US Navy and I found that an 1845 passport from the State Department for him issued just prior to his traveling to Europe on a visit. . He wrote the letter to William Samuel Waithman Ruschenberger (1807-1895)—a surgeon for the US Navy, a naturalist, and a writer. From 1840 to 1842, Ruschenberger was attached to the naval facility at Philadelphia, and later the Brooklyn Navy Yard hospital.

When Ralph visited White Sulphur Springs in 1841, the resort was at the pinnacle of its popularity. The social elite gathered at the springs to partake of the mineral-rich sulphur waters, convinced of their purported therapeutic effects. Nonetheless, the taste of the water was less than agreeable; Ralph remarked that it resembled “a solution of gunpowder.”

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

*White Sulphur Springs as it appeared in the early 1840s.*

White Sulphur Springs,
July 7th 1841

My dear Sir,

Having come to my present resting place, I take the opportunity of addressing you a few lines according to your kind permission. I left Washington with its heat and dust last Friday on a two month leave of absence from the Secretary, and consumed four days in the journey to this place. Going to Winchester by railroad the first day, the next to Harrisonburg, thus to the Warm Spring, and finally here. Whilst in Washington, I continued taking your prescription which removed the symptoms I then complained of, and of which I have had no return, and as it impossible in traveling to proceed with regularity, I have omitted it since, and hope to have no return of my case although I know that it is precarious.

I have commenced the waters and though as yet I cannot say that I have derived great benefit from them, I am not impatient, but hope to get enough in me during the few weeks I shall remain. The water is evidently very powerful and tastes like a solution of gunpowder.

The visitors are not yet very numerous, probably being determined by the session and perhaps also by the currency, and I am rather as a loss of company as the only people I knew left here this morning for the salt sulphur. They calculate on accommodating from eight to nine hundred here, and the cabins and cottages form quite a large town in the shape of an oblong parallelogram, with the dining room & ballroom in the centre, and various appurtenances at the ends in the shape of billiard and bowling rooms.

I imagine half the secret of sending sick persons here consists in the entire change of air and scene which is obtained by crossing the mountains and being [ ] jolted on the way over. An old Frenchman, a fellow traveler with me, on arriving at the Warm Springs and finding that the bachelors—himself included—were put in a separate establishment while the ladies & married men were lodged in the main building, said very truly, “the next time I come here, I will have five wives. It is the only passport in this country. And in fact, they seem to think any place good enough for a single man.”

If in a spare moment of tolerably cool weather you should feel an inclination to address me a line, I need not say how much pleasure I should have on its receipt. I believe I have no questions to ask. I have still half a bottle of your prescription to take if it is good for use after being kept so long.

With the best wishes for the health of Mrs. Ruschenberger, yourself, and family, I remain, Sir, most truly yours, — R. D. Izard

Kentucky Cavalry (CSA)

1864: James P. M. to his Sisters

May 26, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

*An unidentified raider who rode with Morgan on his 1863 Raid*

I had hoped to be able to identify the author of this letter whose sad letter suggests that he rode with Gen. John Hunt Morgan—at least for a time during the Civil War. The letter is signed “your affectionate brother John” and there are initials with an annotation that appear to read, “J. P. M.” but I was unable to pinpoint his identity. There are other names mentioned in the letter that may provide clues but their relationship to the author can only be conjectured.

The letter was datelined from Dalton, Georgia, in early May 1864 where Johnston’s Confederate army had wintered and prepared for Sherman’s advance that would eventually sweep across Georgia. He writes of passing letters by way of a flag-of-truce so it’s my hunch that his family resided in Kentucky—possibly in the vicinity of Union-occupied Bardstown where he may have at an early date befriended John McGill who later became a Bishop in the Catholic Church. He suggests relaying letters through Bishop McGill in Richmond, Virginia, in 1864 and I can think of no other reason he might suggest doing so.

I searched through the names of those officers who rode with Morgan on his 1863 raid into Indiana and Ohio but I could not find anyone with those initials. Some of the raiders escaped and some who occasionally rode with Morgan were not on this raid. Whomever he was, his sentiment were undoubtedly mirrored by many comrades when he wrote: “Out of all the old friends whom I recognized when the war broke out I can hardly count ten. All beneath the sod of the battlefield or disappeared God knows where.”

[Editor’s note: This letter is from the collection of Greg Herr and was offered for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent. Abbie Weber Jones kindly provided me with the first draft of the letter.]

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

Dalton, Georgia
May 6, 1864

My Dear Sisters,

I embrace the present opportunity of sending a letter to you by flag-of-truce boat. The inexpressible anxiety under which I labor in regard to you and the family is worrying me almost to death. So long it has been since I heard from you that my mind is continually wandering home—awake and in my dreams. I am in total ignorance in regard to the whereabouts of Frank. My impression heretofore was that he returned home as he was terribly home sick. If so, I trust in God he arrived there safely. If so, write to me immediately and let one know that my mind may be relieved of this pressure of uncertainty. How glad I would be to hear from Annie & Charlie. In the very few lines that I have ever received from the “dearest spot on earth,” I have never received a line from them.

I raised a company of my own here and held a Captaincy but the utter impossibility of clothing and feeding myself upon the salary and the taking of the regiment from General Morgan’s command induced me to give it up. Out of all the old friends whom I recognized when the war broke out I can hardly count ten. All beneath the sod of the battlefield or disappeared God knows where. I can only write one page or I would write more. How deeply I sympathize with you on account of your affliction in regard to your husband. I will leave to your knowledge that whatever affected you, sank deeply in the heart of your affectionate brother, — James

Write by flag-of-truce back as soon as you receive this. Send me a US postage stamp. I send you two CS Postages. Direct to me in care of Bishop [John] McGill, Richmond, and inform him by separate letter that I will write or call for it. — JPM

25th Massachusetts Infantry

1863: Augustus Adams to his Brother

May 26, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

Augustus Adams (1836-1865) wrote the following letter to his brother in mid-November 1863 while serving as a corporal in Co. K, 25th Massachusetts Infantry. Augustus was the son of Aaron Adams (1804-1877) and Julia Elder (1808-1882) of Leicester, Worcester county, Massachusetts. The cenotaph on his headstone in the Greenville Baptist Cemetery in Leicester informs us that he “died after 9 months captivity in Florence, South Carolina. He was engaged in 5 battles.” In his letter he refers to a sister named Julia whose health was “no better.” His older sister, Julia Ann (Adams) Houghton Scott (1833-1864), the wide of Ebenezer O. Scott (1814-1877) did indeed die a few months later in March 1864

The 25th Massachusetts had just completed a winter expedition in North Carolina when they were transferred to Newport News and subsequently to Yorktown and awaited the arrival of Butler’s Army of the James. They finally embarked for Bermuda Hundred where they participated in fighting at Port Walthall Junction, at Arrowhead Church, and the Battle of Drewry’s Bluff. It was in this last battle, Muster rolls tell us, that Augustus was taken prisoner at on 16 February 1864.

Other letters transcribed and posted on Spared Shared by members of the 25th Massachusetts Infantry include:

Samuel Henry Putnam, Co. A, 25th Massachusetts (1 Letter)
Edwin Collins Gaskill, Co. B. 25th Massachusetts (1 Letter)
Charles Newton, Co. B, 25th Massachusetts (1 Letter)
Henry Arthur White, Co. H, 25th Massachusetts (1 Letter)

[Editor’s Note: The first draft of this transcript was kindly prepared by Abbey Weber Jones for Spared & Shared.]

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

Newport News, Virginia
November 16, 1863

Dear Brother,

I take this opportunity to answer your kind letter. I received it today. I suppose you heard before this time where we are. We had a terrible rough passage in going around Cape Hatteras to Virginia. We came very near being lost at sea in a heavy gale. We are in camp at Newport News, Virginia, where McClellan’s army encamped on their march to Yorktown. We are about 12 miles from fortress Monroe, Virginia, on the Richmond side at the mouth of the James River. We belong to General [Charles Adam] Heckman’s Brigade. There is six regiments in the brigade.

General Butler has taken command of this department. General Foster has gone to relieve General Burnside. We are under marching orders now—the whole brigade. Some think we are going to join Meade. Others think we shall go to South Carolina. The other day, two large Rebel torpedoes came floating down the James River from Richmond. They came down opposite our camp. They were probably sent down to destroy our monitors and frigates. One of them came against the large ironclad Roanoke but the powder having got wet, it did not explode. We are roughing it now in small shelter tents.

The weather is cooler here now which makes it more healthy. My health is good now. I should like to see Winthrop’s girl. She must be a fat little lump. I am sorry to hear that Julia is no better. Give my love to her. Tell her to keep up good courage. You spoke about getting that money of Mr. Hall for me. If you get it, I will pay you well for your trouble.

You spoke about my having a furlough. It is very uncertain about my getting one till my time is up. If I have a chance for one, I shall take it. They only give the furlough men 15 days now. I have not much more to write at present.

I give my love to all the folks at home and keep a share to yourself. Write as soon as you get this letter. Direct your letters to Newport News, Virginia.

From your brother, —Mr. Augustus Adams

Yours Truly