The following letters were written by 21 year-old Delia Annah Henderson (1843-1914) in the days following the notice of her older half-brother’s death at the Battle of Deep Bottom on the 16th of August 1864. Delia’s brother was Lt. Colonel Thomas Albert Henderson (1833-1864) of the 7th New Hampshire Infantry. Prior to his enlistment, Thomas had graduated from Bowdoin College in 1855, the Harvard Law School in 1861, and was admitted to the Suffolk Bar in Boston.
Delia and Thomas were two of several children born to Samuel Hoyt Henderson (1798-1867) of Dover, Strafford county, New Hampshire. Thomas was borne by Samuel’s first wife, Delia Paul (1804-1837) and Delia was borne by Samuel 2nd wife, Sarah Ann Guppy (1812-1900).
Delia wrote the letters to Alvina (“Allie”) Cordelia Neal (1840-1905) who would become her sister-in-law in a few years. In August 1868, Delia and George (“Georgie”) William Neal (1844-1884) of Kittery, Maine, were married. The cdv’s on this page were attached to these two letters and since both back marks indicate they were taken by the artist E. T. Brigham in his Dover, N. H. studio, I feel confident they are of Delia A. Henderson.
Letter 1
Dover [New Hampshire]
August 23rd 1864
Darling Allie,
I just wrote you a line this morning to inform you of the death of my dear brother Thomas. He was killed on last Tuesday. We received the news Saturday night. His body has been embalmed and we are expecting it anytime. Our grief seems greater than we can bear. I can hardly keep about, having passed three sleepless nights and two such long, sad days. I fear I cannot bear up under the greatest affliction I ever had. The pride, the pet, the loved one of our circle is gone. Oh, my God, give us that strength & consolation which seems to cause everyone to mourn as his. I send you a paper containing a notice of his death. It has been in a number of papers but we could not obtain many except of these.
Poor dear John—away from all his friends, has to bear his shock alone. I fear we shall not have him many years. I shall have more friends in heaven that upon earth soon. Oh! how I wish I could join them now. But no, I must suffer on. We mourn and mourn deeply, but we try and not murmur. But everything seems so dark and gloomy to us. Our deep mourning garments but faintly express the blackness of all around us.
Oh Allie, I wish you were with me today. T’would be a comfort, I know. We have had so many of his friends here, but I have seen none. Mother had to see them. It seems as though his associates here could not bear it. But He who sent this affliction upon us will give us strength to bear it. It has never been so hard for me to say, “All’s for the best.” I am almost worn out with grief. But I trust I shall be able to go through the trying scenes which are yet to come. I thank you most heartily for your kind note. Tell [your brother] Georgie his letter was a source of consolation. I will write him when I am calmer. Do write soon. Pray that I may not murmur at our affliction but that God in his mercy will give me strength to bear it. Yours in the deepest sorrow and affliction, — Delia A. H.
I did not receive your letter till Saturday night.
Letter 2
Dover [New Hampshire]
August 28th 1864
Dearest Allie,
I feel too sad to read, too sad to speak, and too sad to write to anyone but you. Oh such a long, sad week as this has been. But today seems sadder and longer than any of the past week because I have been so busy and we have had so many things to see to, that it has taken up my attention some. But today, everything seems so quiet and death-like. We are all too full of sorrow to speak except with tears.
The body of our dear brother has not yet arrived and you can perhaps imagine what waring anxiety & surprise we have passed through when every train we expected him. He may come at any time. The chaplain was only waiting for a leave of absence, before starting with his body. It has been embalmed, and if it was properly done, we will look as natural as when he died. What a consolation it is to us to know that he never fell into the Rebels hands, and that we can have his body to bury, and know where he is laid.
We received a letter from the Colonel yesterday saying he was wounded by a rifle ball in his thigh. He was hit at 12 and died at three o’clock, Tuesday the 16th. The Colonel spoke to him about two minutes before but had to go to the General for orders. When returning, he met a soldier carrying an officer wrapped in a blanket on his shoulders and was told ’twas Col. Henderson. He was immediately put in an ambulance in an ambulance and carried to the hospital where he had every attention but the Surgeon at once knew ’twas a mortal wound. He lingered three hours. Oh! what hours of anguish those must have been away from ever loved friend.
The chaplain was with him all the time and when he arrives we shall know many things we wish so much to know. Oh, Allie! You know not what grief our is. You can perhaps imagine how you would feel in like circumstances but when the sad reality is forced upon you, you find it ’tis very different. He was such a good, kind and thoughtful brother that it seems so hard to give him up. As everyone here says, he has not left one stain upon his name. He was too noble and brave to meet such a death, and it does not seem right that so much talent as he had should so soon be cut off. I don’t know how I can ever bear to have him buried. Then ’tis doubly hard, for he is to be buried under military & masonic orders from the church. It would be hard enough to bury him in a quiet way, but this will almost kill us. We would not consent for a long time, but as everyone most wants to attend the funeral, we had to sacrifice our feelings for others.
The past week has done the work of a year upon me. I have slept but very little and food I don’t care for, Oh! can I bear this dreadful shock. Why was the blow permitted to fall upon the idolized one. You know, Allie, he was worthy to be proud of and loved and no death has occurred in this place which this world cannot give. If convenient, please inform our friends of his death. Do write me soon.
Your friend in the deepest sorrow. — Delia A. H.
Spared & Shared 23 