The following letter was written from Camp Tom Casey in mid-February 1863 by John Oliver Quinby (1827-1911), a musician in Co. E, 25th Maine Infantry (9 months 1862-63). He was born in 1827 at Minot, Maine, and married first Mary Pendexter in 1848 and had two children: Sarah F. Quinby (b. 1850) and Mary (died in infancy). After his first wife’s death, John married Olive A. Hampton (1834-1910) in 1853. In 1860, the couple were living at Westbrook, Maine, where John was enumerated as a shoecutter. Their children at that time, included the aforementioned Sarah, as well as Isabel (age 5).

Quinby volunteered in late September 1862 and mustered out with his regiment on 10 July 1863 after 9 months. About 1870 he moved his family to Malden, Massachusetts.

Back in 2018, I transcribed a letter by another member of the same company from Camp Tom Casey in March 1863. It was written by William Roberts to his sister. See—1863: William Roberts to Marietta Roberts.

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

Camp Tom Casey
February 22, 1863

Dear wife,

I now take my pen to write to you tonight in answer to yours which I was very glad to receive. Also glad to hear that you were all as well as you were at the time. Now I am sorry that you do not feel well, my dear. I will tell you the trouble, my wife. You worry too much about me. Now do you not do so? Now I am quite smart. You ned not worry about me. I know how to take care of myself and it is for that reason that I have not been on duty. That is the way in this show—to not get down sick so that one cannot get about soon. So do not worry now. You need not think because that I send to you to get medicines that it is because I am so bad off. It is the way that the doctors treat the men that go to them. The things that they need, in my opinion. So I had rather send to you to get something than the doctors [who will give me] something different than I have been used to. That is all.

I calculate to come home all right. That is the reason that I am off duty as I did not feel well. Had got tired and needed rest and had the rheumatism some. Now my dear, I get enough to eat and drink, have a good place to sleep in, am warm most of the time and sometimes too warm. The fire is so near to our bunk that I can lay and put my feet on the chimney and we have a good fire all the time when we need it. Then you have been so good to me sending to me the quilt and the pillow. Now I am well off as I can be. I have got lots of straw in my bunk and as good bed as I could expect in this show.

Now my dear, I thank God tonight that I am so well off as I am—a good dry bed and a good warm fire and plenty to it. That is by far more than many have. It is more than the Brigade right in sight has this night. They tents while we houses. Then those to the front are worse than they are. Now my dear, today it has been snowing hard all day a cold storm. It began last night about 12 o’clock. It looks some like fair weather now here. About 8 inches, they say. Have not been out today, only to get the things you sent to me. They were very nice and you must have taken a good deal of pains to send them to me and I thank you a thousand times for it for I know that you think of me. If you did not, you would not try to send me all the things that I want as you do.

Now, my dear, will you try to do one thing—that is, do not worry so much about me. I am afraid that if you do that, something may happen to me when I am so well off as I am. I am sorry that you are so afraid that I am suffering so much for I am not. Now one thing more, if you do not leave off worrying about me and take your rest, you will be sick. Now do not do so as you love me for my feelings and your own dear sake, now will you? If you do, I shall come home to you and find you poor and slim. Then you will not enjoy yourself, my dear, and perhaps have a fit of sickness. The mind has a good deal to do with the body, you know. Now if I was ever so sick, it would do me no good to worry about me, nor you. Now you must not imagine that I am thus and so but take things as easy as you can.

Now I think you had better not do any stitching as your health is so poor but have rest, and one thing more, I do not want you to go without anything for my sake. I should not enjoy anything if I thought that you did. I do not think you do. Youse your money as long as you have it and take the good of it, my dear. Now I am very sorry that you felt so bad reading the one before my last letter. I do not have any hardness towards you, nor did I when I wrote to you—only I felt bad to think that you thought me in earnest in writing that to you when I was not. You ask me, my wife, to forgive you. I have nothing to forgive in my behalf. If in my writing to you, I hurt your feelings, look at it as not intentionally doing so, and think of it no more, my love. I find no fault with your letter. I can read them as well as my own and as fast too.

I have no news to write to you—only I do not think that we shall move from here till we go home to you, my dear. Now. Cols. Shaw’s wife has come on here and her children to stay. Now that does not look like moving, I do not think. That is so. Now I want you to look at it in this way—that I am coming home when my time is out to you and it will not be long. And try and enjoy yourself [and] not think that I am suffering all the time, my dear. Now won’t you for my sake?

I got the pens all right and the paper too. I got them all. Now my wife, I should like to be with you at home. I should try to enjoy it. Do not think I am homesick. I am willing to stay and serve my time out but I would like to be at home for your sake in particular. hat is so. Now I am sure that if you should have me now at home, you would not let me go to war, would you? No doubt that you miss me more than you thought you should. Well the time will soon pass away and then I shall be at home to stay, I hope, if God in His good Providence sees fit to spare my life. Now do not go to any place of enjoyment and think all the time about me & not take any comfort. Do not think that I think that no one cares for me. I know that some does, that you do, and I am highly pleased to see the love that you express for me. I fear that I am not worthy of many things. Now my dear, I hope that if I am spared to get home, that we both shall try to please each other more than we did sometimes. Now I know that many times that I was fretful with you when at home but hope I may not be again, but I may. But if it should be, my dear, I hope you will bear with my weakness in those points. I am well aware of it and I think if I had not disease about me at times, I should not be by the feelings that I have in my head at those times. But enough of this, my dear. Forgive me in the past and try to forget it if you can. We have both done many things that we ought not to each other but enough, my wife, and if we ever live to see each other again, try to enjoy our lives a little better if we can.

Tell the children to be good and mind you. Give my love to all the friends there. Tell them that I should like to see them all. I am glad Andrew Tell is better. Hope he will go home to May. Well, give my love to Mary, to Call, in fact all. I will now draw to a close at this time, my dear. I do not know as I can write much more to interest you. Do not think that I am down to the heel. I am not—no more than I ever was. That is so. The Saccarappa Boys are all as well as common as far as I know of. I hope you are well tonight and happy. That is so. I will now bid you goodbye, my dear, this time. A kiss for you all and a good hug for you. Receive his from your husband, — J. O. Quinby

Goodbye my dear. Most affectionately yours and may God bless you all. Goodbye, goodbye, my dear wife, goodbye.

My little daughter Bell. I am a going to write a little letter to you. Did you have a good Thanksgiving dinner? I hope you did and did not eat enough to make you sick. Noe Bell, how is Tilly and does Billy sing good? I will tell you there is a little mouse that lives in our tent. He squeals & gets into our things. Little rascal, don’t you think so? Guess we shall kill him sometime.

Now Bell, there is a little dog here. They call him Tom Casey & two nigger boys, but no nigger babies. I am sorry that the heart was broke and I will make another sometime and send to you if I can. How do you like the book that I sent to you & such. I suppose that you will learn all of it by the time I get home. Is your dolls all whole & got their winter clothing? Do you mind Mother well &c.? I suppose that you would like to see me. Well I shall come home by & by. I suppose you will be a little pleased when I get home. Well learn to read smart so you can read to me by and by. You must get Sarah to learn you to read the letters that I write to you. I now close this time. So goodbye Bell. A kiss from your father.