The following letter was written by Henry B. Whitney (1838-1920) who enlisted on 25 August 1862 to serve three years in Co. B, 110th New York Infantry. At the time of his enlistment 24 year-old Henry gave Albion, New York, as his birthplace, and he was described as a 5′ 9″ grey-eyed, brown-haired carriage maker. For a time in the fall of 1863, Henry was hospitalized in Baton Rouge but recovered and returned to his regiment, mustering out with his company at Albany in August 1865.

Henry wrote the letter to his wife, Martha H. (Smith) Whitney (1840-1921). After the war, Henry returned to his old occupation and his residence in Pulaski, Oswego county, New York.

The 110th New York Regiment left the state on the 29th, proceeding to Baltimore, where it was stationed until Nov., 1862, when it was ordered to New Orleans, and early in 1863 was assigned to Emory’s division of the 19th corps. Its first experience under fire was at Fort Bisland, and at Franklin it had 12 killed and wounded. It took part in the long siege of Port Hudson and shared in the grand assault of June 14. The total loss of the regiment during the siege was 37 killed, wounded and missing. Its last battle was at Vermillion bayou, La., in Nov. 1863, where it lost 6 killed and wounded. In Feb., 1864, it was ordered to Fort Jefferson, Fla. The regiment was mustered out at Albany, under Col. Hamilton, Aug. 28, 1865. It lost during service 2 officers and 14 men killed and mortally wounded; 3 officers and 192 men died of disease and other causes—total deaths, 211. The high percentage of loss by disease was due to the long service of the regiment in the extreme South.

[Note: This letter is from the private collection of Greg Herr and was transcribed and published on Spared & Shared by express consent.]

Transcription

Fort Jefferson [Florida]
March 13th 1864

Dear Wife,

For a long time I have tried to write a little evenings before going on guard and as another is here I will improve the time in a social chat with my little wife, precious as ever you are to me this eve. Oh, I wish I knew you were well. I am feeling quite well this eve but I will believe you trusting in the same power that has ever watched over you. Even the hairs of our heads are numbered. How very good our heavenly Father is to us when we are so unworthy of His blessings, so heartless and careless. How much strength & grace we need to not entirely forget the Lord. Remember me in your prayers, darling, that I may ever have an eye single for the glory of the Lord & in all things I may exemplify His holy religion & not be a stumbling block & have my lamp trimmed and burning so that when the summons comes, it may find me ready.

How I do miss the prayers & class meetings. Yes, I long for the society of Christian friends. Still I am living in the hopes of one day not long hence enjoying such privileges again. Don’t forget me.

I guess I shall have to stop. Stowell came in & now aird two fine f___s, I assure you. I must stop.

[March] 18th. Dear Matte. How are you this eve? Well and in good health, I trust. Rather a sudden stop to my writing the other eve, but I like a good social chat at times, even so & I am going to have one now with Mattie & tell you the little news there is to tell of the doings on this garden Key. The F. came with a mail [but] no letter for me. I was some disappointed and am afraid your packing up and perhaps moving has made you sick. How I wish I could be there this eve to see you this Saturday night & spend it as we were wont to, but I’ll not believe but you are well, believing that the same arms that has thus far shielded you from harm is still powerful to save if you but trust it. I thank the Lord you do & that together we are treading the narrow way that leads to the haven of rest & if in His infinite wisdom we are never permitted to meet again on earth, we can in heaven & there with the loved ones gone on before, be at rest. Yes, Mattie, then we can see that little pet of ours who is beckoning us on to HIs bright home of light. Pray for me, darling, that I live right and strive to do the will of my heavenly father. How often I am led to worry over my waywardness but the Lord us ever ready to forgive when we ask in faith…

We are having some fine weather here now—usually about 85 degrees. What think you of that for old March? No one cares about being outside in the sun. The F. brought the A. A. J. G. & we have had our inspections today. Oh! I almost forgot. Yesterday was St. Patrick’s 9in the morning) and no work on the Key. No drill by order of the Colonel. Could not celebrate the 22nd. Oh no. A Priest was here from Key West. He married the couple—I wrote you about it. I find no fault with anyone for keeping anniversaries of birth or deaths of those they may think good men. No, it is perfectly right & commendable to imitate their example in all good acts. But I don’t think the Saint sanctioned the drunken row of his followers in the room joining his last night. One man in the guard house for one week for it. No attention was paid to Washington’s Birthday. It has caused some excitement. I’ll leave it.

A schooner come yesterday that was here last fall. She is going direct to New York & he (the captain) advertises to take [ ] and my trunk is packed full for Mrs. H. B. Whiting. There will be a note on it, There is most everything in it. The note is in the book.

But I am for guard again in the morning it seems so. I have to go in guard about every Sunday but I’ll not find any fault. Only five month’s longer. Only about 30 more of such duties to do. But I must stop again. Pleasant dreams to you darling. In love, — H

March 21st. Eve. Dearest wife. How do you do this warm, sultry eve? Well, I trust. I wish I knew you were as well as I am but it will be some time ere I shall know where you are and how you are enjoying yourself these times. I was in hope I should get a letter tonight for the E. M. came in. Only a few letters for Co. K. Nothing for me. Still hoping. Still trusting the Lord. What comfort and consolation there is, ain’t there darling?

That box is aboard the schooner Narria. She goes in the morning. I did not have time to write have I wanted to on the note that is in the book. There is some pressed moss in it too. There is in the paper box quite a variety of shells—perhaps you know the names of them. I’ll not try to tell you. I’ll send some more moss as soon as I get it pressed.

Did you ever get a receipt for the barrel of carrol? What was the charges on it? I hope the box will go through safe for there is many an hours hard work in the hot sun. Never a handful did I put in my pocket but I thought of her I was gathering them for & if they reach you I shall at least feel that I have in part repaid you for the many acts of kindness you have bestowed upon me. If I can never pay them, I can at least acknowledge the debt. There is some satisfaction in that.

But there is the drum & I must stop. Good night Mattie. In love, — H

22nd Eve. Mattie darling, here I am a going at the chore of another day and permitted to tell you of my good health. Are you well this eve? What are you about, I wonder? Enjoying yourself at least, I hope. Oh! it has been woeful hot—not a breath of air stirring this forenoon. It is only a forerunner of what we are to have the coming summer yet. I. don’t feel the heat as you Northern folks think we do & as I look ahead to another winter & think how cold it will be if my life is spared to spend ir North, I don’t know how I shall manage to keep warm, can you? Invent some way before another winter, Mattie, for one year now I have not seen it cold enough to bring the mercury down to 55 degrees. Little did I think when I enlisted I should spend so much of the time here [but] so it is.

The E. M. goes in the morning & I must mail this so it can go on her [way]. Remember me to all the friends. I often think of them and hope to see you all soon. I am going to send you some specimens of moss in this…Keep you ever in His holy keeping is the daily prayer of your, — Henry