My passion is studying American history leading up to & including the Civil War. I particularly enjoy reading, transcribing & researching primary sources such as letters and diaries.
The following letter was written by 1st Lieutenant William Garner Harris (1830-1901) of Co. H, 36th Georgia Infantry. He was promoted to Captain of the company in mid-April 1863 and resigned his commission on 19 March 1864, having been elected as Sheriff of Murray county, Georgia. William was married to Eugenia (“Jennie”) Carter (1841-1910) in 1861 and the baby referenced in this letter was Lucy A. Harris, born on 22 March 1861. William wrote the letter to his younger sister, Mary Sophronia Harris (1847-1922). William had a younger brother, Robert Harris, who served in Co. E, 60th Georgia Infantry who was mortally wounded at the Battle of Antietam; he died at the Grove Farm on September 18, 1862.
Glenn’s 36th served first in Tennessee, then in Mississippi where it was a part of T. H. Taylor’s Brigade, Department of Mississippi and East Louisiana. The regiment was engaged in the battle of Champion Hill (Baker’s Creek), Miss. May 16, 1863, and in the bombardment of Vicksburg, Miss. from May 18 to July 4, 1863. where it surrendered. After being exchanged, the regiment was brigaded under General Cummings and fought with the Army of Tennessee from Chattanooga to Nashville, Georgia, and the Carolina’s Campaign. In January, 1865, it was consolidated with the 56th Georgia Regiment. As originally organized, the regiment had 930 men. It suffered 43 casualties at Chattanooga, and reported 267 men and 213 arms in December of 1863.
POW Record when surrendered at Vicksburg, MS
Transcription
Camp Hatten Grainger County [Tennessee]
July 2, 1862
Dear Sister M. S. Harris,
I take the present opportunity of answering your letter sent by Potest. I was truly glad to hear from you and Martha. You said if I needed anything to let you and Martha know what I needed and I should have it. I need nothing in the clothing line. I didn’t start with much and have sent half of that home and have wished several times I had nothing here but what I have on. There is always a fuss when we go to start about carrying baggage we have so much running around to do. Though I am very thankful to you for the offer.
I want you to go down and stay some with Jennie and the baby. I expect they are lonesome as Cate don’t stay there much since I left. I don’t know when I can come home but when I do, I will try and bring you some present if I can find anything you will have.
Give Martha my best thanks for her kind offer and tell her I will remember if I ever get home, I can’t tell you where to write but direct to Knoxville, Glenn’s [36th] Regiment, Georgia Volunteers, and I will get them some time. There are a great many old acquaintances in this Brigade. Gus Simmons & his brother is in Col. Harris’ Regiment, this Brigade.
Capt. Jacob F. Mader, Co. H, 61st OVI (L. M. Strayer Collection)
The following letter was written by Jacob Frederick Mader, Jr. (1840-1922), the son of German emigrants J. F. Mader (1808-1888) and Johanna Sterr. Jacob was born in Chillicothe, Ohio, but came to Circleville when he was only 12 to learn the carriage painting trade. He then relocated to Zanesville where he partnered with brothers in the carriage making business.
In mid-February 1862, Jacob enlisted at Circleville in Co. H, 61st Ohio Volunteer Infantry and was mustered in as fourth duty sergeant. He was commissioned 2nd Lieutenant on 9 October 1862, and on 28 October 1863, he was transferred to Co. B which he commanded in the absence of its captain until 29 April 1864 when he was promoted to captain of the company and served as such until he was mustered out of service at Goldsboro North Carolina. He was slightly wounded at the second battle of Bull Run and also at Peach Tree Creek. He was engaged in the battles of Cedar Mountain, Freeman’s Ford, White Sulphur Springs, Waterloo Bridge, second Bull Run, Chancelorsville, Gettysburg, Hagerstown, Wauhatchie, Lookout Mountain, Missionary Ridge, Ringgold, Knoxville, those of his regiment were in the Atlanta campaign, March to the Sea, and the Campaign of the Carolinas.
On his way home, he stopped at Washington D.C. and was in Ford’s theater on the night of April 14, 1865 when President Lincoln was assassinated.
Though he addressed the letter to “Mary,” most likely Jacob wrote his letter to his future wife, Maria L. Hartmeyer of Circleville, Ohio.
Transcription
In trenches near Atlanta, Georgia August 7th 1864
My Dear Mary,
I received yours of the 1st yesterday & was not a little surprised as well as pleased while perusing your letter which contained news of me of which I was entirely ignorant. Well! I think it is necessary for me to make an explanation & clear the matter up as best as I can, or my carefully studied love making for the last six years might accidentally or providentially meet with disaster, which might become irreparable so as forever to cut the cord that binds us and separate us for ever, of which I have but little desire.
In the first place, to clear up this matter you should have given the name of the lady to whom I have been accused of corresponding to. In the second place, you should have stated whether you seen the photograph or not & if it was mine, for as it is now, you only have the sensationist’s word for it & neither you or I are convinced that the photograph is mine. So as the thing now stands, I am not the guilty one & have no forgiveness to ask. But when it is proven that I have deceived, or tried to deceive you, then I will most sorrowfully ask your pardon.
I am very grateful for praising me so highly to my correspondent in Lebanon, Ohio, & will try at any future time to reciprocate in a like manner but I hope more & I know more deserving than I am of the compliment bestowed on me. You say that your confidence in me is shaken—that it had been laboring in a great mistake. Now I don’t think that you have as yet any reason to make such a remark. You have had no substantial evidence that I am corresponding with a lady in Lebanon, Ohio, & have sent her my photograph with the intention of making love to her. You say that you should like to hear from me soon again if it is consistent to the happiness of my lady love & correspondent in Lebanon, Ohio. As for that, I know she would not think any the less of me. So you can depend on hearing from me often without giving her any trouble whatever. I will now halt for the present and commence on some other subject.
I see by your last letter that you are not yet aware of the death of Paul but ere this reaches you I have no doubt that you will know all. We are shelled by the enemy & in return shell the enemy every day. They throw over sometimes sixty-four pounder shells about the size of a gallon jug thirteen inches long, six inches in diameter 18 inches in circumference. It has powder in them the grains of which is the size of a hazel nut. One of these shells exploded near the trenches of the 14th Corps killing & wounding fourteen men.
Hoping that this letter may find you in good health, I will bring it to a close by remaining truly, your every day, — Jake
Samuel’s letter was written on patriotic letterhead typical of early-war letters.
The following letters were written by Samuel Beatty Walkington, Jr. (1840-Aft1882) of Paterson, Passaic county, New Jersey, who enlisted on 30 May 1861 as a private in Co. I, 2nd New Jersey Infantry. He was promoted to a corporal in October 1862 and to 1st Sergeant in June 1863. At some point during his service, Samuel was taken prisoner and was exchanged though his records don’t say when.
Samuel was the son of Irish emigrants Samuel and Eliza Walkington. Like his father, Samuel was a machinist and after the war, Samuel relocated to California where he worked as an engine builder in Alameda county. He was enumerated among the registered voters there through at least 1882.
Having had little opportunity to become engaged during the 1st Battle of Manassas, Samuel’s letters share extraordinary detail about picketing and skirmishing activities typical of early-war letters.
Letter 1
Roaches Mills, Virginia July 27th 1861
Dear Parents,
Your very welcome letter has just come to hand and was the source of great pleasure to me. You folks at home seem to overrate our hardship greatly. We have gone through nothing yet that any reasonable man should grumble at. It is true we had a forced march of fifty miles the other day, and that our fare during that time was none of the best, but still we had enough for ourselves and some to spare to some of the poor fellows who had been engaged on the battlefield all day, and since we have got settled down once more our fare is the same as usual, and not very bad as you will say when I tell you what we have generally.
In the first place, we get a loaf of bread about the size of a baker’s six cent loaf every day, for breakfast either field beefsteak or fried ham together with as much coffee as we want. For dinner we have either fresh or corned beef, or vegetable soup, and to make it go better we often go out and gather tomatoes or green corn, which taken together you must allow makes no very mean dinner. For supper, coffee and bread, and sometimes rice or beefsteak, suffices to keep us from going hungry to bed. We can get blackberries in any quantity here and I generally manage to eat about a quart a day.
You speak about my being short of money. It is true what I had with me is done, for whenever we move from one place to another, we are generally short of rations and have to buy something to eat. But you need not send me any as I can borrow it here from time to time as I need it. If you hear of anyone coming out here with whom you can send anything, you might send me a pound or two of smoking, and a little chewing tobacco, although you need go to no trouble about it as I can get it here of a little worse quality and, by paying a little more for it. I have this minute been over to see Sam Jackson and got a couple of Paterson oranges from him. His ankle has got entirely better. But I must close as I am going to write to George Seddon. By the way, both he and you made quite a mistake about the envelope I spoke about, not having as I see both of you have sent me some. I had plenty of them, only they were in my knapsack here and I was in Vienna.
I, Flavell, and all the boys you know are well. Give my love to Uncle Fenton’s family and my respects to anyone who may enquire after me. Write to me if you can conveniently about once a week and believe me to be your affectionate son. — S. B. Walkington
I have had some trouble in getting my letters as they were not directed right. You always left out company. Direct to S. B. Walkington, Co. I, 2nd Regt. N. J. Vols., Care of Col. McLean, Washington D. C.
Letter 2
Camp St. Johns Fairfax county, Va. September 1st 1861
Dear Parents,
I received your letter last night and one a day or two before, but I had not time to answer the first till just now, having been away from camp four days. We left camp Thursday morning to go out on picket guard about five and a half miles from camp to Barcroft’s Mills—one of the worst positions to hold that could be imagined as it would be a hard matter to make a safe retreat from it in case of an attack from a large force of the rebels as the mill is situated in a ravine surrounded on all sides by very steep hills from the tops of which anybody in the ravine might be blowed to pieces. But to resume.
Our company arrived there at about twelve o’clock and immediately proceeded to post pickets along all the roads leading to the mills. We went along the road to the right of the mill about a quarter of a mile and were about to post a picket of four men when on suddenly looking to our left we found that we were immediately under a rebel battery on a high hill only about half a mile distant, and which commanded the road on which we were, and also Baileys Cross Roads about three quarters of a mile from where we were. We were under command of Charley Danforth and turned right back and posted our picket under cover from the battery, and then the rest of us turned back and proceeded up the road to the left of the mill till we came near a toll gate where we posted another picket of four men, of which I was one. The rest then proceeded to the toll house about twenty yards distant and enquired of the man if there were any rebels around. He said there was not and the Lieut. proceeded to post a picket back of the house. At this minute I spied an officer and a man coming across a field. They proved to be the Generals and a provate who gave orders to go back about half a mile.
I went up to tell Danforth to come back and found the men with their pieces cocked standing behind the trees. On looking through the trees, I ground that had come across a party of rebels who had on discovering our men, dodged behind the trees and retreated back. We then drawed in the pickets previously posted and went back about a mile to a safer position where we remained all night on guard and where we were relieved next morning by Co, F who remained on three days and had a skirmish with the enemy. had one man wounded and I believe killed two of the rebels. The next picket to us from the Third regiment also had a brush with the enemy in which they had two killed. The funeral services were had today, Sunday.
But I must close. I am in first rate spirits and in good health. Give my love to Tom and Julia and all the rest. Sam Hicks [?] is well. From your affectionate son, — S. B. W.
This letter was written by Joseph Edwin Folkes (1842-1916), the son of Elisha Knibb Folkes (1794-1849) and Mary Wynne Epps (1792-1851) of Charles City, Virginia. By 1863, when this letter was penned, the only survivors in the family were Joseph and his older sister, Rebecca Epps Folkes (1832-1866).
According to his obituary, Joseph was born at Bermuda Hundred on the James river. At the age of 19 in May 1861, he joined the Confederate Army “as a member of Pickett’s Second Brigade of Volunteers, Mahone’s Division, A. P. Hill’s Corps. He fought with the brigade until August 19, 1864 when he was wounded while on the line of battle. To the day of his death he carried a minié ball in his shoulder blade as a memento of the fight.”
Though Joseph’s obituary (Richmond Times Dispatch) suggests a glorious service in Pickett’s Brigade, we learn from regimental muster rolls that he did not enter the service until late in 1861 as a private in Co. B, 41st Viginia Infantry but was quickly promoted to 5th Sergeant (he had excellent hand writing). However, a year later he was reduced to ranks just after the Battle of Fredericksburg and he had two months pay deducted by order of court martial. In 1863 we know that Joseph was with his regiment at Gettysburg where he was quoted: “On the eve of the 2nd, all the night long, our brigade worked on the breastworks; for we knew the 3rd of July was to be another just like the one ended, and we were willing to work now and hard.” [see: Account of Joseph E. Folkes, by Kate Folkes Minor, on file at the Fredericksburg and Gettysburg National Military Parks.]
In June 1864, he was reduced in ranks again from Sergeant to Private but then promoted to Segt. Major by order of Major Eterage on 1 August 1864 (he appears to have been promoted while absent due to his wounds). At war’s end, he was still serving in Co. B, 41st Virginia, and never received the commission he felt he deserved. Maybe criticizing his Colonel publicly in the home newspapers had something to do with that,
After the war, Joseph settled in Richmond where he was a sales clerk for Levy Brothers. Afterwards he was an assistant librarian at the State Library Building.
Transcription
Camp 41st Virginia Regiment Near Fredericksburg City, Virginia Bright and Sunny, February 7th, 1863
Devoted and Fondly Remembered Mary,
As nothing can afford me more pleasure than writing to you, I will devote the leisure hours of this sweet morning in so doing for when I am writing to you, the lively and bright bye gone days loom up before ]me], and I almost think it is reality. But when I come to think where I am, it causes a sigh to escape my heart. Why, oh why, does cruel fate allot such to be my destiny. Oh that I could say I was happy and contented with my lot, but I cannot. I am not contented and cannot be. But I forget. Let that pass.
We are now quite comfortable in our tents, with chimneys more so than our friends imagine at home. It is true that we have long been without tents, or any other kind of shelter and exposed to the wintry winds and rains, but that cause could not be helped as we were continually on the march. But we are now, and have been for the past six weeks, in good tents and within the last two weeks we have almost erected a little city, with its nice little streets and side walks. If I am not to get any nearer home this winter, I would like as much to stay where I am. I wish I was an artist to draft my quarters so you could see them. I know you would admire them—but not because I made the building after my own fancy. What a beautiful site at the close of evening when the glorious sun is setting behind the western hills does our camp and the landscape around present. You remember I am a great lover of nature, but ungifted to catch the beauties of a landscape and transfer them to canvas, unpracticed in the simplest movement of the artist’s duties. I can only stand and admire what Providence has spread around us soldiers who are battling for our country’s honor and liberties, and as colors deepen or fade, and the beauties augment or diminish, I bow with admiration at the object and increased love to Him whose hand has garnished the Heavens and whose goodness is as manifest in these his lower works, as in the constellated glories of the firmament, whose sisters combine to enrich, with heatless light worlds of space, and the infinite seems exhausted to give with starry luster earths evening canopy. Equally [ ] am I with that genius which passes on some [ ] the interesting and the sublime, in the simple and the ordinary. I have no such gifts but I have the love for such gifts. Sometimes the skill of an artist, press upon me till I wish I had the genius and skills to fix the picture, which nature has drawn, and show that our camp [illegible—paper fold] come in turn, the stimulate to taste.
Our regiment was thrown in great excitement not long ago since. The alarm drum was sounded and the Yankees as well as we fell immediately in line of battle and for some time great excitement prevailed on both sides of the Rappahannock. The cause was occasion[ed] by the burning of a dwelling by our pickets and three or four bombs that had been thrown in it on the last fight exploded and we, as well as the enemy, thought that they were signals. But all is quiet now. It is the general impression that a fight is inevitable and that our furloughs have been stopped, and those who are on them are ordered to report to their companies as soon as time will admit. Our next fight will prove to be grandest ever fought on the Rappahannock river, for since the last fight they have been preparing for another fight. A great many batteries are visible that have been recently erected. For the last few days they have been moving large bodies of troops up and down the river. If we are to fight in the quarter, the sooner the better. I want to see it end as soon as it can be done.
You will be surprised to hear that I have been elected from sergeant of Co. B to 1st Lieutenant in Co. G of the regiment and because I stayed over my time at home, the Brigadier General has a board of officers, West Point graduates, to examine and see if I was qualified for the position, and because I missed one word, they reported me incompetent and they have ordered me again to Co. B. This is imposition and I will have redress if it cost me my own life. The fact of this business, they are not willing to see a sergeant promoted to a commission. But I was Co. G’s preference and was duly elected their 1st Lieutenant and even elected by acclimation. I have written to some of my influential friends—one in the Senate and the other a member of the House of Delegates. These friends have written me word that they would see the Secretary of War on the subject and if they can get me off, they will, and I can then join any company I may choose. If I get off, I will join some other company—perhaps the City Battalion. I will never serve in any regiment to which I am by law entitled to a commission. I have faithfully been serving my country and always worked for the promotion of her good. The men know this fact and want me their officer, and I mean to have justice done them as well as myself. I have never since I have been in the service arose in any position that I did not work my way up. Favors have never carried me a step. This regiment works by favors altogether.
Since I have written, the Colonel has found it out and thinks that the secretary of war will decide with me that I am entitled to be relived from further duty with this regiment and he wishes me to take my old position as Sergeant Major. I politely told him I was not going to hold any office below the one I was entitled to and [ ] not get my rights, I declined any positions he could give. He finally wound up by saying I was not old enough to be a 1st Lieutenant of any company while in active service, and admitted I might be competent, but said the Captain wanted to resign and the 1st Lieutenant would be promoted up to his rank. I told him he knew that if justice was dealt out to me, I would get my office, but as I was not his or the Lieutenant Colonel’s favorite, I would not have justice. He walked off as haughty as a prince and we have had no words on the subject as yet and I do not care if he never says a word to me again about it.
We have had a terrible snow storm up here, but stood at better than I had anticipated we would. We have not had much suffering in our regiment as we all the men seem pretty well supplied with clothes and shoes. A Louisiana Brigade and ours used to fight snow balls while the snow lasted, officers and all. Our Brigade used to whip them everyday. You just ought to have seen them charge us. Our brigade would repulse them every time.
Your kind and affectionate letter came safe to hand on last evening and I embrace this the first opportunity of writing an answer to your highly appreciated letter. Nothing can afford me more pleasure than writing to you and I assure you that they are always received with the deepest emotions of gratitude. Often when I am lonesome and wearied out with camp and the old familiar scenes of the soldier’s life, I read and re-read those old letters written by yourself, and they always cheer me up, that I can go about my military duties with a light and cheerful face, knowing that one, sometimes thinks of absent of absent Joe. If I knew that you ever thought of me half so often as you are thought of, Mary, the world might frown but I would heed it not so long as I was remembered by lovely Mary. Time would then roll on faster and not drag on as the present. Things would in general present a sweeter view. The world would then look happy and I would be happy if anything in this life could make me so. But what I have written you treat as nothing, knowing who it comes from. But nevertheless, it is true. But I beg and entreat you not to get offended at what I have said and treat me with contempt by not writing to me again. Then indeed, would I be unhappy.
Enclosed you will find an article relative to my treatment received at the hands of my Colonel, which I had published in the Richmond Whig to show the public what mean and unjust laws are enforced upon the soldiers. If I was a colonel, I am sure I would feel quite cheap after seeing such a piece in a public news paper which referred to me. I hear that our Brigade General is to be promoted to a Major General and his old Brigade to form part of his division as Major General, and that our command will be sent to Tennessee or down to Waverly Station, Sussex County, Virginia. Nearly all of the companies in the regiment are from down that portion of the state and they are raving to be sent there, but our company and Co. G are for staying this side of Richmond. I had rather stay up in the Blue Ridge Mountains than go down in that sickly country, though we could hide in the Dismal Swamp from the Yankees.
I must now finish writing for the morning as my duty will not admit of my writing any more. I must now go and drill, as the drum is rolling for Battalion drill which will not be over until late in the evening. But in the morning I will finish this long letter if such it can be called You will be tired of reading by the time you get through with it this mess, so goodbye until morning.
Well, according to promise I will end this letter. I received one from home this morning which brought sad intelligence. It said the small pox was in the county and that it was at Mr. Stagg’s. I heard that I had a nephew down with it and worst of all my only sister is there and if she was to have that hateful disease, I would almost go mad for she could not survive such an attack. I would not care to live on an other day if she was taken from me. She is all I live for and if I was to lose her, all—,”all,”—would be gone and Joe would be left, the only one of his fathers family. May the Supreme Being forbid such to be my destiny in this world, with no father, mother, brother, or sister—horrible. I could give all up but not my sister, for no one could love a sister better than I love mine. And I know she thinks more of me than many sisters think of their brothers, for as the old adage says; the narrower the brook, the stronger does its current flow. She has but one to love and I have the vanity to say it is all centered on one object (myself). I have never received a line from her since I returned from Charles City. I have received letters from all around the county, and no one said a word about it thinking how unhappy it would make me, and the reason that she has not written to me was because that hateful disease was around her. I cannot imagine how it could get so far in the country.
I hope, Mary, from the heart that your home will not be visited by such a monster. I hear that it is all over Richmond, raging in families as well as in the hospital. One of our regiments was sent off this morning to encamp by itself for fear that some of them had it and that it might spread all over our Brigade. I believe I has as live die as have it. and unless great care is taken, it disfigures anyone so much by leaving so many scars. Enough on that unpleasant subject, hoping again it may not infest your home.
Well, this sheet has almost given out so I will have to finish on another sheet, If you are very busy you will have to take this down several times before you finish it.
The following letter was written by Eugene Allen Dye (1854-1896), the son of Ledyard Dye (1819-1886) and Clarinda Fletcher (1826-1900) of Chautauqua county, New York. Eugene datelined his letter from Millette, Spink county, South Dakota, in 1886 where he was a school teacher and the first superintendent of public instruction for the Dakota Territory. Three years later, South Dakota and North Dakota became the 39th and 40th States in the Union.
Millette, Spink county, South Dakota in early 1900s
Transcription
Millette, Spink county, Dakota [Territory] July 16, 1886
Dear John,
Some weeks have passed since I heard from you. Up until July 6th I have been more busy than I ever was before here. Since then I have spent my time in keeping life in my carcass—battling against excessive heat and dry scorching air (don’t say anything about for it is not favorable to country). Not a day has passed but I have thought of you & wondered how you & family were passing the summer. John, there are times that it seems I would give my little worldly possessions if I could only step into your house & have a visit with you. Occasionally life becomes wearisome on account of the monotony into which one is hurled when he travels so much as I. For nearly four years I have traveled over the plains, every day the eyes meeting the same sights—one vast stretch of almost level prairie. My entire travel in carriage would nearly equal one-third the distance around the earth. Well, if the Lord influence Grover—and I think no one less in calling can—I could be changed to a new field which would be a rest for a time at least.
John, I took a most interesting trip among the Sioux Indians recently & perhaps you may be interested in a brief account of the trip. I enclose a programme which will explain much. Well about 40 of us—women and men—started from Pierre 44.250 north latitude at about five o’clock a.m. After driving 25 miles north along the Missouri, we reached Ft. Sully which is located on a beautiful plateau overlooking the river. Only about 200 soldiers are kept there but everything is in the very finest shape. It is one of the most beautiful places I ever visited. Everything that Uncle Sam’s money could do to beautify & make pleasant has been done.
Soldiers playing baseball at Fort Sully in the 1870s.
After a splendid breakfast with the soldiers, who were not only soldiers but gentlemen, we seated ourselves in the carriages & drove 8 miles to a point opposite Ft. Bennett where the Indians were encamped. Here we were to be ferried across in boats which would carry from 6 to 10 persons. The river at this point was about one mile wide. The current being so strong—7 miles per hour—the ladies and a few timid, feeble lads (including myself) waited on the bank to see the first loads across. I saw the oars were handled by skilled men and I planted my little feet in one of the boats & was soon an associate of the “poor red man.”
Fort Bennett, ca. 1886 (South Dakota State Archives)
It was proposed by one of the ladies that we go at once where rations were being issued to the Indians but a government officer suggested that for our stomach’s sake, we get dinner first. The suggestion was a good one. We finally went to see them. The sight was not the most pleasing. Those red devils eat everything except the hide and contents of the paunch, Squaws would fight over guts. They eat their fill of guts, liver, &c. while the carcass of the cattle are warm. A squaw will put one end of a gut in her mouth and with her fingers force as much of the contents out as possible and chew till filled. They are lower than the whelps which follow them around. This government may do all they may to make human beings out of them but it will be to no purpose.
I visited a school established near Ft. Bennett. 1 The young Indians do fine work but when they leave school and go back to the tribe they speak their own language & in a short time no one would suspect that they ever saw a school room. Their dress consists of greasy loose blankets and garments principally. A few have been more tidy and have preserved in quite good condition the clothes given by government. There are too, quite a number of “squaw men”—specimens of humanity in white skins who marry squaws & live at the expense of government same as Indians. Some of this class are quite wealthy. We satisfied our entire desire to see Sioux Indians and recrossed the river resolving that was enough for all time to come. Please write soon. Affectionately, — E. A. Dye
1 The Cheyenne River Agency was established at Fort Bennett in 1878. The Cheyenne River Agency Boarding School for Indian Boys was sited there and St. John’s—a school for girls—was sited nearby.
This letter was written by Joseph Chauncey Van Marter (1840-1913) of Barton, Tioga county, New York whose name sometimes appears on the muster rolls of Co. H, 3rd New York Infantry as James C. Van Marter for some strange reason. Joseph enlisted on 14 May 1861 to serve two years in the regiment. He mustered out on 21 May 1863 at Albany. He later reenlisted in Co. G, 5th New York Cavalry.
Joseph was the son of Elijah Van Marter (1811-1891) and Sarah E. Van Martin (1817-1890) of Barton, Tioga county, New York.
Transcription
Fort McHenry December 13th 1861
Dear Cousin,
I received your letter tonight about 8 o’clock and was glad to hear from you. You wanted to hear all the good news. The good news is that I feel very good tonight. The news is that we are a going to Georgia or to Florida on the fleet. Then we will hear the bomb shells snap and crack. I am getting as fat as a rail. I cannot think of much to write.
Mate, I shall soon be my boss if that if wasn’t in the way. I think that I shall spend a happy birthday that I am 21 years old. I shall spend it in Baltimore if we don’t go to Florida, I have had some fine times in Baltimore City as I ever see. Your dance that you spoke of I should like to be there but as I cannot, you must dance twice for me. I have been to a dance three times in Baltimore and I danced with as pretty a girl as you ever see. I think that I shall fetch one of them home with me if I don’t miss of it. Tell Aunt that I should like to see her and I shall if I don’t miss of it. Aunt put a Christmas present in my socks. I had a roasted turkey this morning. I have had more fun since I left home than I would if I had stayed at home. Still I was as gray as a rat. Write as soon as you get this.
From your cousin, — Joseph C. Van Marter
Direct your letters to Fort McHenry, Maryland, Co. H, 3rd Regt. N. Y. V.
I could not find an image of Elkins but here is Linus T. Squire of Co. H, 11th Michigan Infantry (Ancestry)
The following letter was written by 36 year-old Elkins Babbitt (1826-1862), a private in Co. G, 11th Michigan Infantry. Elkins was the son of John Mendell Babbitt (1785-1840) and Orra Asenath Carpenter (1796-1864) of Monroe county, New York. He was married to Rosalia Young (1832-1911) in January 1853 in Trowbridge, Allegan county, Michigan, where he was engaged in farming prior to his enlistment. The couple had at least three children when he left to join the regiment.
We learn from Elkins’ letter that he had been sick for some time with “bilious pneumonia” and though he expressed optimism for his recovery in this letter to a friend named Stanley C. Foster (1832-1903), he must have had a relapse for he died ten days later. Stanley was a farmer in Trowbridge who also came to the Michigan from New York State.
Transcription
Camp Morton [near Bardstown, Nelson county, Kentucky] March 8th 1862
Friend Stanley,
I am glad of this opportunity of writing to you. You may wonder at this expression. I will tell you why I do. On the 13th of last month I came into the hospital. The next day I had to give and go to bed and I have not been outdoors till yesterday. I have had what they call the bilious pneumonia. It is a hard disease. There has a great many died with the same disease. I never took so much powerful medicine in my life before and never was so poor as I am now. I thought of home as much as twice I will bet and all of you when in the most pain but I kept up good courage. When I was the worst, my waiter told me I was in a fair way to go to the orchard—that is, to the bone yard. I told him if he said that again, I would kick his arse. I would not let him take care of me any longer. Now I am getting along quite smart. I get up the most of the time and have been out of doors twice this morning. I think that I shall get right along now. Since I have been sick, I have wrote two letters to Rosalia and it tired me all out. I did not tell her how bad I had been and I don’t want you to. It would not do her any good. It would only make her feel bad. I shall write to her tomorrow and tell her a good story.
When I got your father’s letter, I was on my back and was not able to read it. Still it done me lots of good just then. I have received a letter from you and two from Rosalia. I was almost overjoyed to get so many letters from hime at that time when I felt so bad.
Our regiment has moved from here and have gone about twenty-five miles. They left the sick till we got able to move. They have gone to guard railroad bridges and towns. We as a regiment have the best name in regard to being civil and not stealing of any regiment that ever came into Kentucky. That is all we ever shall do is to be held as guards and that will not be long. I think it is the opinion of all the people and officers and the papers that the war will not last more than two months at the outside. The rebels do not half fight. They are good on retreat. Yes, first rate to run.
I am sorry that there is so many that are so willing to meddle with our business and try to make so much disturbance as some of them devils so. I think the best way is to not mind them at all. When I get back, I will give them fits on the other hand. I never shall forget your kindness to me and my family. When I was sick and could not sleep, I thought that you might see them and give a cheering word. Chick, you can imagine my feelings then when I could not sit up one month and I do hope you never will by experience. But now the worst is over with and I shall soon be all right again. And if they much out of me, I will lose my guess. Well, I must close for this time and bid you goodbye once more. — I remain your friend till death — Elkins Babbett
This letter was written by Joshua Stevens (1842-1882), the son of Alonzo Stevens (1812-1877) and Mary Judkins (1821-1902) of Phillips, Franklin Co, Maine, who migrated to Wisconsin in the late 1840s. Joshua enlisted in Co. K, 12th Wisconsin Infantry but was discharged due to illness in mid-1862. He later enlisted in Co. K, 30th Wisconsin Infantry. He died in 1882 in Richland Co, Wisconsin. The letter is unusual as it was written on a sheet with a printing of the Co. K roster although Joshua was not included in that list for some reason. The letter describes the journey taken by the regiment from Camp Randall to the Missouri river port town of Weston, Missouri—just a few miles below and on the opposite bank from Fort Leavenworth.
The 12th Wisconsin proceeded as far as Fort Riley, Kansas, on a journey they imagined would take them as far as New Mexico, but their orders were countermanded and they returned to Leavenworth and were subsequently sent to Tennessee.
[Note: This letter is from the personal collection of Craig Albrechtson and was made available for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.]
Weston, Platte county, Missouri
Transcription
Weston, Platte county, Missouri January 17th 1862
Dear Brother,
I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know where I am and what I am about. I enlisted in Captain Sylvester’s Company last Wednesday. I did not get into Madison till Tuesday about noon and enlisted the next day. Then all I had to do was fooling around about the camp. Did not drill while I was there. Our company didn’t drill from the time I got there till we left so I am rather a green hand at the business.
We left Camp Randall last Saturday tolerable late in the morning. It was rather a bad time to start as ’twas snowing all the morning. The worst of it was having to stand round after we pulled down the tents. They were taken down long before daylight and then we burnt up all the wood and everythig else that would burn was throwed onto the fire. When it was well afire and the soldiers all through the camp going in every direction, it made quite a grand scene as ’twas just light enough to see them running, kicking, boxing, yelling, and swearing.
We left Madison rather late in the morning and got to Chicago in the evening after dark. Then we had to march through town to another depot. After fooling around for some time, we got some coffee to drink and started. Had a very good ride but went very slow. Most of the way we rode in one train. Had two engines hitched on and one to go ahead to see if everything was right. The next morning after we left Chicago, we passed through some of the prettiest country I ever saw. We got to Quincy the second night and stopped there till morning. Then on account of the bridges being burnt on the other side of the river, we had to march 24 miles and had rather a hard march of it. The roads were very hard and slippry. One soldier in Company I fell and broke his leg before we had marched five miles.
Well, we got through a little before night to the [Mississippi] river and it was partly froze over so we had to stop on that side all night and it was very cold. There was a few houses to sleep in but a great many slept on ground by the fire. Some of the boys drawed chickens and several beehives. In the night, [there was] considerable drawing going on among the boys. I went to bed about ten o’clock in an old building. There was two old work benches in it and they was all covered over with soldiers. I slept in there on the ground.
In the morning at three o’clock I got up and fooled around till morning. Then, it was afternoon before we got across the river so we had to stop on that side another night at a place called Hannibal. The next morning we started on the cars and got to a place by the name of Weston where we are now, about four miles from Fort Leavenworth.
I sent my clothes to Woodstock and should like to have you get them as soon as convenient. They are in care of Wade. I sent two coats, two pairs pants, 1 hat, 1 pair mittens. I want you to get that three dollars off Stoel and pay James Kenyon 40 cents for me for half a days work he done for Lorenzo Stevens.
We shall stop here several days probably. I want to hear from you soon. Lieut. [Isaac] Walker was accidentally shot through his leg by Lieut. [Almon N.] Chandler. That was before we left Madison. Someday when you have nothing to do, you must read this. Write soon and let me hear the news. I will bid thee off, — Joshua Stevens
This letter was written by Adelbert V Stevens (1839-1919), the son of Alonzo and Mary (Judkins) Stevens. “Del” came to Wisconsin with his family from Phillips, Franklin Co, Maine. He served in Co. K, 12th Wisconsin Infantry, Co K, rising in rank to 1st Sergeant.
Del datelined his letter from Natchez, Mississippi on December 17th, 1863. It includes a lengthy description of the arrest of his cousin Gustavus Stevens who was arrested for robbery and sentenced to confinement for ten months. “Gus” did not survive the war, however. He died of disease in Vicksburg in 1864.
[Note: This letter is from the private collection of Craig Albrechtson and was transcribed and published on Spared & Shared by express consent.]
Transcription
Natchez, Mississippi December 17th 1863
Dear Brother,
I take this opportunity to write you a few lines to let you know that I am alive and well with the exception of rather a bad cold. I received a letter from you dated November 11th directed to Gustavus. I read it according to his directions and will send it to him as soon as I find out where he is. I suppose you have heard about his trouble here. I will give you a slight description of it. He went out into the country with three other men and searched a house for arms and when they came back, they were arrested by the pickets and taken to the Provost Marshal. He had charges preferred against him and was put into the jail to await trial. This was about the 14th of September. In about a month, he had his trial but was still kept in jail to await his sentence and thus it went until [he] left here and went to Vicksburg. The night that we left here, he got out and stayed around here about a week and when the 33rd Regiment came up to Vicksburg, he came with them and as soon as he got to our camp, he was put under arrest again.
The next morning we was ordered to march and they took him in to Vicksburg and turned him over to the Provost Marshal and I have not seen him since. He promised to write to me as soon as he found out where he was going to and as soon as I find out where to direct, I shall send all his letters to him. I forgot to mention that while Gus was with the regiment, his sentence came. He is to remain in confinement till the expiration of his term of enlistment and a stoppage of pay of ten dollars a month for ten months. I think that is rather rough.
I received a letter from Mother a few days ago. The folks were all well at home. She said she expected you was coming home on a furlough until she heard that you was gone. I understand that Jeff Thompson was wounded at the Battle of Chickamauga. Perhaps you will get a chance to see him. He belongs to the 11th Battery Indiana Volunteers. If you see him, tell him to write to me.
Garfield Sylvester was married a few weeks ago to Miss Osbern. I believe that is the way with the most of these brave stay-at-homes. They are a little afraid to go to the war so they get up a small company of their own and then they can drill when they please. But enough of this nonsense for his time. So goodbye. Write often. Direct to Natchez, Miss. — Del Stevens
Dr. Peter Randolph Reamey(1829-1892), ca. 1853, Martinsville, Henry county, Virginia
The following letters were written by Peter Randolph Reamey (1929-1892) while serving as Captain of Co. H—“The Henry Guards”—24th Virginia Infantry. The company had previously organized, were uniformed and given arms in the fall of 1860 so that when the Civil War began in April 1861, they were the first company from Henry County to join the Confederate Army. In June 1861, their company was assigned to the 24th Virginia Regiment under the command of Col. Jubal Early and designated Co. H. They were present on the field at the Battle of Bull Run in July 1861 and though these five letters do not describe the battle, they were were all written in the days just before and after that engagement near Manassas.
The Daily Dispatch of 18 October 1860 (Richmond) informs us that the “Henry Guard” was organized in the fall of 1860 and P. R. Reamey was named their Captain.
Peter was a prominent figure in Henry county, Virginia, where he practiced medicine almost a decade before the Civil War, having graduated from the Medical College at Hampden & Sydney College in 1850. He began his education in his father’s school he kept a diary in his formative years that inform us he by the age of five he was studying English and Latin grammar, besides his other school branches. At seven, he entered Patrick Henry Academy under the late Joe. P. Godfrey, the principal. Here he added Greek, Sacred History and took examination on Caesar and Sallust. Before he was twelve years old he had finished practically all Latin and most of the Greek offered in the Colleges. He was a student at Sullivans College, at Columbus, Ohio, before moving on to medical school.
Biographical sketches of Peter’s wartime experiences are vague but imply that he served in the 24th Virginia until “after peace was declared” but a review of his military record at the National Archive reveals that Brig. Gen. Jubal A. Early accepted Peter’s resignation at Camp Pryor on 13 August 1861, just a week after the last of these four letters. He was succeeded by 1st Lieutenant H. H. Dyer. Those who knew Reamey claimed that he had “charming manners, a splendid physique, and a great vocabulary to display a brilliant intellect that soared beyond the heights of average men.” (The History of Henry County, Virginia.)
Two of Peters brothers served with him in the 24th Virginia and both of them died of typhoid fever near Manassas. John Starling Reamey (1830-1861) died on 6 August 1861 (his death is described in these letters), and Henry Clay Reamey died on 18 September 1861.
Peter’s letters make references to his slaves, some of whom were named Sooky, Perk, Dock, and Joannah. The 1860 Slave Schedules reveals that Reamey owned eight slaves ranging in age from 12 to 72, 4 males and four females.
Letter 1
[Note: The following transcript was found on Ancestry but there were no images of the letter so I cannot verify the accuracy of the transcript. There clearly were more of Reamey’s letters in a collection at one time but where they are now remains a mystery.]
June 11, 1861 Camp near Davis’ Ford on the Occoquan River Prince William Co., Virginia
My Dear Sallie—dearer to me now than ever,
I know Darling that you and our little ones have anxiously looked for a letter from me, and have felt some disappointment in not getting one, but I know that you will excuse me when I tell you that I could not write. I commenced a letter or so, but the thoughts of home blinded my eyes, & I had to ask Sam Shelton to write. Well! I need no say any more for if I commence it, I shall not be able to write atall.
You have doubtless heard of us as far as Lynchburg at which place we received many flattering notices as a company, &c., &c. and great attention from the ladies. We were quartered in a large tobacco factory in the midst of a terribly nasty population for want of a better place. A good many troops had been quartered there before and left behind them all the evidences of dirt & filth imaginable. Well our blankets were spread and our rolls called, sentinels posted, &c., &c, our provisions of bread & meat, with coffee & sugar & rice were dealt out, and with an unusual appetite all hands fell to work upon them, cooking & serving as a wagoner from Patrick—with your fingers. The captain’s tent was a negro quarter of the factory, occupied by them at the time, where the convenience of a table could be found and our chairs of trunks & boxes placed around it. To this our friends were invited to partake of the luxuries of fried fat meat & bread (bakers) with coffee from tin cups. It was right rough, but most of the boys fell to, with a better will than you would suppose. Our amusements at night were fiddling, dancing, singing, &c., &c. among the younger, & serious thoughts of home, wife, & children among the older. I hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. The fun at times was irresistibly ludicrous. But to see men who were used to a better society, to books, to ladies, to all the comforts of home compelled to eat and sleep as we did in Lynchburg was indeed painful. We couldn’t help thinking of what we had left.
To add to our distresses, our bowels were affected, and the greater part of us sick from one cause or other, mostly from the water which being limestone, and well water which percolated through the filth of the city before we drank it. We were greatly rejoiced therefore to receive orders to march to Manassas Junction, or rather to this place which is six miles in advance and to the right or east, immediately in a line between Acquia creek & Manassas. So out we marched Saturday morning to the depot, but in consequence of something on the part of the railroad officers, we had to be marched back to the Factory and didn’t get off until Sunday. We passed through Charlotteville, Orange CH, Culpepper CH, Gordonsville &c., and all along the road were cheered by the waving of handkerchiefs & flags & every demonstration of patriotism. Water was furnished us, bouquets given, &c., &c. At Gordonsville, our baggage car was detached and Holt & Buckner left as a guard, & we proceeded to Manassas Junction, at which place Gen. Beauregard is in command with some 10,000 men. Fortifications have been thrown up and are being thrown up all round for several miles. The Danville companies are there, several of whose members visited us and we them.
A cdv of Peter’s wife, “Sallie,” who died in 1866.
We stayed all night at Manassas, sleeping in a meadow of clover, in the open air, eating crackers and boiling meat (beef and bacon) on sharp sticks in the fire, our baggage tents, cooking utensils, &c. not getting in in time. Well, some few fellows, though who had no coffee nor could get any for love nor money, felt pretty blue and down in the mouth. On yesterday, we marched to this place through the hottest sun I ever felt. Our Maj. [J. P. Hammett] being on horseback it seems to me never thought of our being on foot & forced us very (unnecessarily too) fast, resting twice only by the wayside. The Henry Guards stood it better than any other company, Companies from Patrick, Mercer, Giles, Montgomery, &c. gave out, their men growing sick & faint & dropping by the roadside. Ah! It was awfully hot. Finally, we reached here and commenced work. We drill several times a day, & call the roll and report the sick & cook & eat and throw up fortifications, &c., &c. And this morning I believe most every man feels better than usual. The water here is pretty good but right scarce from the spring while at Manassas they had to dig wells & the water is miserable and very scarce. We had to beg for water at times like starving men for bread. Near this place there is small stream which is perhaps half as large as Smith River which is said to have a great many fish in it. I think I shall try it soon if we can remain here long enough. The country about Manassas is flat & level rather poor, but about this place it is rather more hilly & very full of pines.
I do not want you to think that we are dissatisfied. We are all pretty well and in right good spirits. Sam, Harry, John, and all are enjoying themselves, and Sam says he will write home this evening or tomorrow. He says that “he’d come back again if he was at home now.”
I have no time to write any more. The courier is about to start. There is heavy firing within hearing—perhaps within or near Fairfax C. H. 12 miles off & this letter may never reach you [but] perhaps it may. If so, it brings to you, Darling, & the little children, all the love a husband & a father can send to his family- Kiss the children & Dearest wife, remember me as always yours, P. R. Ramey
G. H. & the “boys” all send love to you, once more adieu, P. R. Reamey
Letter 2
June 20 1861 Camp Pryor 3 miles from Manassas Junction 1
My dear Sallie,
Your hastily written letter of the 17 arrived here about 10 minutes ago, together with several others from Henry Co. to the Henry Guards. I am sorry to find that you have once thought that “I have forgotten you.” Forgotten you Sallie! surely you never thought what you were writing when you penned that expression! I had tried to write to you, but I could not, from Lynchburg; I had asked Sam Shelton to write for me & he told me that he did so; I had written to you as soon as I arrived at Davis Ford (3 miles below here). I sent you a postscript in my letter to Mrs. Thomas, which letter I supposed you would read, and also wrote about you in my letter to Web. How could I forget you? Can a mother forget her baby? Can a father forget his children? can I forget you—the only woman I ever loved? Oh! that I could forget you Sallie until this war was over! Dearest Darling, I never can, I never will, I never, never forget you. The love pledged you 12 years ago at our bridal, is as yet entirely yours—only yours; the flame burns more brightly than ever in your husband’s breast. Don’t let the thought ever once enter your mind that I have forgotten that motto of our early love, “years change me not.” I ought to have written from Lynchburg, but if you only knew the thousand questions I had to answer each day, or the thousand things I had & have to attend to connected with this company; if you only knew the weakness of my heart whenever I begin to write—if you only knew half of the anxiety I feel about you and the children, you could never suspect me of infidelity to you. Sallie you never knew how intensely I loved you. [If] you can’t tell now, you never will know. Rest assured, however, that I am “yours only.”
I have written to [sister] Mary Ann 2 & have given you all the news of our moving to Occoquan town & back to camp near Davis Ford, and from there back toward this place &c., &c. We have had no fight as yet. Look for one shortly at Alexandria (27 miles distant). Our present camp is called Camp Pryor, I suppose after Roger A. I have not seen Beauregard yet, though he was and is yet at Manassas. I was at the Junction on yesterday. It is a horribly hot and nasty place. I dined with Col. Withers, Capt. Graves, Lieut. J. Smith, & Buford of the Danville Blues & Capt Claiborne of the Greys. Chas Irving has just left our camp for the Junction. He belongs to the Danville Greys. Maj. [Jubal] Early arrived here last night. He is Colonel of the Regiment now.
Dr. Semple is a sort of Hospital Steward, attends the sick to some extent, and superintends the medicine department of the Hospital which is as yet a mere pine bush shanty. John is the Quarter Master of our company, talks & “rips & rears” about wasting food, &c., &c., &c. much as usual. Harry and Sam and Buckness, Eli, & Bob, Barrows, Bullington, West, Gregory &c., &c. & Bryant are all well.
John Reamey, [William F.] Bullington & I have all been a little sick today—not much however. I am sort of afraid of the sun, it is awful hot here in middle of the day, but cool at night. The land here is very poor, & the people very far from feeling much interest in the war. We see but few people and those few very common stock. At Manassas there are about 15,000 men, well drilled & ready for a fight. About 200 were killed or disabled at a bridge near here the other day. You will see some recount of it in the papers, I suppose. Instead of 7 killed as reported at first, there were 200 of the enemy. Great rejoicing in camp about it!
Dr. [James] Semple sends his love to you & Mrs. Thomas. Says his spirits are better than any man’s in camp, he believes. Sam Shelton also. John [T.] Hamlett says he has written to you about the ring. [Brother] Harry got a very affectionate letter from Web a day or so ago. We both wrote back to him yesterday. Poor Daniel. I expect he is very lonesome. How is Ed’s practice? I hope he may do well. Tell him to read and study and think much—stay in his office and go to see any sort of a case that sends for him—to keep my books and journals all straight & write to me. Tell Aunt P[atsy] and Uncle S. and Obe & Sallie, and Mr. Putz & wife, and Old “Critur” & all the folks that I am well & often think of them. Respects to all who enquire. Love to Web & Mary and Kate if she be with you. Kiss our dear children. Make them say their lessons every day. Tell them to be good and kind to each other & to obey their mother.
Darling, what more shall I say to you. Think of me as still in every respect your own. Think, that while mountains may rise between us & rivers divide us, our eyes may watch the self same star [and] our prayers may ascend to the same “Father in Heaven.” Pray for me Sallie, that I may be spared to see you all again. Oh that I could this night clasp you to my bosom. Oh that I could see our little “darlings.” Does Johnny ever muster now? Kiss him especially for me. Give my love to Sooky, Perk, Dock, Joannah and all the negroes. Bill is fat & fine and sends his love. He wants to hear from home. Darling, good night. — P. R. Reamey
1 Camp Pryor was located at the junction of Davis’ Ford Road and Spring’s and Bland’s Fords Roads, three miles south of Manassas Junction.
2 Mary Ann (Reamey) Thomas (1834-1911) became the wife of Christopher Yancey Thomas (1818-1879) in 1858.
Letter 3
The village of Occuquan on Occoquan River
Prince William County, Va. June 27, 1861
Dear Sallie,
From the hills of the Occoquan, whence the noble Potomac is in full view, I seat myself darling to write you a few lines. We are now encamped near the same spot at which some 10 days ago we were located. It is upon the hills of the Occoquan River, immediately above the town of Occoquan which I am told was once a flourishing village but which now, in consequence of the war, is almost deserted. It is a noted resort of the Lincolnites as it is only three miles from the Potomac, and is visited occasionally by small boats, or sloops, on trading purposes, As a village, it is low down at the foot of the hills, immediately upon the river and inhabited by a most ordinary population, as far as my observation has extended. In the last Presidential election, it gave Lincoln a considerable majority, but since the approach of the Southern forces to the neighborhood, the friends of the Federalists have fled to parts unknown—though last night it was reported that there were spies around our camp.
Our march to this place was not disagreeable as it was when we came here before. The weather, though hot, was not so warm, nor did we travel as fast. And besides, we were allowed more water. You can scarcely imagine how we sigh for the good free stone water we have left behind us, for while the water here is not exactly limestone, yet it very impure and milky in its look, warm, and I should suppose 9from its appearance) abounding in animalculae! By the way, do you ever microscope it now? Have you found any new animals this summer?
This is one of the poorest counties I ever saw. The soil is white and sandy and vegetation is very far behind us in Henry [county]. Corn here is nothing like knee high upon an average. Clover and “hay grapes” are very indifferent and oats by no means good. Wheat and rye are better. I should suppose that they use guano upon their wheat.
We have seen but few ladies about here occasionally and but very rarely, some one of the fair sex wave us a handkerchief. But as large majority of the men and women too view us with seeming indifference—-
(Just here I was interrupted by a general cry of a ship upon the Potomac and when I stepped out, I was amused to hear the comments of our country fellows upon her passage—speed, business, &c., &c. “Boys, if we had a cannon, couldn’t we give her fits” &c., &c. “That’s a ship going up after a load of Yankees” says a fourth, &c., &c.
We are to have a sort of holiday today (I hear). We will have no drilling & I am glad of it for I am rather tired of the monotony of the camp. I long to be with you darling at times, and with those dear little ones who call my name so often. Duty alone brought me here and duty keeps me here else I should long since have flown to the arms of her whose
“Whose love is more than life to me And the one treasure that I prize above All else that earth can give—the one rich boon So dear, that if I lost it I should soon Lie in the grave’s cold bosom, is thy love! Love me then, ever, for I fain would be All unto thee love, that thou art to me.”
I wrote to you on yesterday as we were leaving Camp Pryor and I placed my hasty note within Sam’s letter to you. I do not know how it is that some of our letters go home & others do not, unless it be the fact that whenever we send our letters & postage to be mailed, our messengers destroy the letters & use the money for other purposes. From the Colonel down to the humblest private there has been a general complaint of the mails. I subscribe to the Daily Dispatch & have received but one number. I have written to you again and again, not less I think than six times, but I discover from your letter to Sam that you have received none or but one, and that you are disposed to think me neglectful of my promises! I can appreciate your feeling when others get letters & you do not, for I have experienced the same even here in camp. You may rest assured that so long as I am from you, I will endeavor to write every week at least. But if the mail fails to bring you a letter, don’t think that I have forgotten you so soon.
Well, taking all things into consideration, this rough roll & tumble life I think will suit me pretty well, but the weather is very hot and I suffer very much from the heat at times. I frequently wet my head, or wear green leaves in my hat in order to avoid sunstroke. This morning my throat is quite sore—perhaps from being caught in a slight shower on yesterday evening, but mostly from the fact that I stuck a fishbone in my throat in Lynchburg & it has been slightly sore ever since.
We have a prayer meeting every night, either in my tent or somebody else’s and I assure you, you hardly ever attended more quiet and orderly meetings than these are. I hope they may be productive of great good and result in the salvation of us all. I am trying to serve God, Sallie. I feel the need of all the religion in the world and I do hope that you will pray earnestly that all of us may be both valiant soldiers of our country but especially of the Cross of Christ.
I should be glad to hear from you oftener. Try and be cheerful and contented. Be resigned to the will of God in all things. Pray earnestly and constantly for that faith and confidence in Divine Providence that will enable you to say, “Not my will but thine, Oh Lord, be done.” Teach the children properly and teach them regularly. Take time for it. Don’t fret, don’t scold, be calm, but firm, gentle but inn earnest. Let them know that you mean what you say. Don’t hurry them over their books too fast. Let them learn well, whatever they do learn. Teach them, Sallie, to love each other, to be kind to each other, more particularly to Florence whom I think the boys are disposed to slight. If Johnny is still sick, tell Ed to make Condie’s powder eactly after the formula in his work on children. Don’t give him too much physic. Be cautious in his diet and make him wear a flannel bandage by belt around his bowels. You will find it of great service I think. I shall reserve the balance of my paper until I look around & see what can be seen about here, or until I get a chance to mail this letter to you safely. So now I bid you farewell. — P. R. R.
I have just walked some eighteen miles from Occoquan to Camp Pryor and the first duty I shall discharge after fixing up my tent is to write to you my darling “wifie.” I left Occoquan this morning (28th) and had a very pleasant march. On yesterday when I left off writing, I went down to the village a few hundred yards off & we caught a great many little catfish & perch & with good coffee and cornbread, we made a most capital dinner. Just above Occoquan village, the hills are very rough and full of the finest stone which has been quarried in order to furnish Washington and other places with materials for building. The Occoquan above these falls is but small. Below these rocks, however, the tide flows and it is navigable for small boats. It is quite a picturesque place. There is a cool spring, a dense shade, and thousands of rocks all over the river, with thousands of fish swimming around—perch, catfish, &c. The water is clear and very deep and you can see them swimming around everywhere. I should think it a delightful place to spend a few weeks and I was really sorry to leave there so soon. The Potomac looked really grand and our boys enjoy the sight as those wanderers through the desert enjoy the Nile to which you know I have eloquently alluded in days of yore.
Ed’s letter to Sam has just reached here. I am very glad to hear as favorably of Ed’s practice. Tell him to read and study and he is bound to succeed. Never mind who employs him and who does not, it will all come right after a while if he will do his part. He promises to write to me which I hope he will. He must excuse me if I do not always write back to him. My letters are I suppose generally read by the family and friends and as paper is very hard to get, and postage obliged to be paid in change, I really can’t afford it, even if I had time which I have not, for I assure you that I have but few moments to spare. I am applied to for everything and almost at every hour night and day. Indeed, to be Captain of a volunteer company is a post by no means desirable.
Poor C. I am told has lost nearly half of his men. Joe A. Allen has just landed here. He joined Capt. [William W.] Bentley’s company from Pulaski in Lynchburg. He is a very sober & I am in hopes he will make a good soldier. I got a very affectionate letter from Jimerson this evening. He writes as if it was very lonely about home. He says he can’t see my children without shedding tears! I hope you will send him by Ed or Web my kindest regards for his letter to me & John. George Jimerson stands it pretty well considering his fat. He is in pretty good spirits. Hardin [H.] Hereford is about as independent as a wood sawyer. He stands it right well but is awfully lazy. Sam Waller has never been sick atall since we left. John Hamlett is sick today. Also Bryant Charles & B. Rolin. Rolin is right sick. The hot weather is the cause of it I think—diarrhea mostly. Hale is yet sick. Bob Dandridge right sick last night but is out today.
Tell [sister] Mary Ann that her letters to Harry and me and John came through in due time [and] that I will try & write to her shortly. I should feel better if you would write. Surely I shall get a letter from you tomorrow night (Saturday). You have no idea how glad I should be to hear from you directly. I am very sorry that you have an idea that I am neglecting you, or forgetting my promises. I know that I have written to you frequently, and long letters generally, but as yet I have had but two from home. Rest assured that as long as I am able to write, or can mail a letter, that I shall write to you. This make a third letter to you in four days!!
My health is first rate today except a sun burnt neck, which pains me some. The country around here is extremely dry. There has been no rain about here for several weeks. The dust and heat are of course very oppressive for the soil is white and sandy & I think very poor. I met with the Prince William Cavalry today a a well some 10 miles below here. During our stop at that well on the day before yesterday I met a very intelligent lady who treated us very kindly. Today I found amongst the cavalry her husband who was a very clever fellow. The ladies hereabouts are very scarce, not much admired by our boys, as nice women are not often seen. Occasionally at our dress parade at 6 o’clock p.m., or upon our march to and fro, we meet some very nice ones who ride their horses admirably.
I suppose from all accounts that the crops in Henry [county] are very fine. I hope so. It seems to me as if Providence is evidently upon our side in everything. In the last fights heard of, it seems that the Yankees have been defeated again. I heard today that Maryland and Kentucky have both wheeled into line and that the Lincolnites are withdrawing from the State of Virginia. I hope it may be true but I am afraid it is too good to be true!! You all at home can form a better idea of the probable events of the future than we can. We get a dispatch once in a while and it is rather amusing to see the fellows sitting around to hear the news—to hear their comments, &c. &c.
Sam and I subscribed to the Daily Dispatch between us and at this moment, Sam is reading out here upon the grass, and Bob and Eli & Gregory & Sam Fontaine & Sam Sheffield & John & Isom are sitting around to listen. Bill Harris sends his love to his wife and children & to George & Starlie. How does Perk & Sooky & Dock and all of them come on! Do they seem to feel any interest in hearing from us? Except our own negroes in the regiment, I hardly ever see any negroes about here.
I hope you have a good garden. Oh! Sallie, how I could enjoy one of your dinners—a few snaps, a few potatoes, and such other vegetables as you have at home! I don’t know why it is I have never got a potato since I have been about here. I had a few snaps a day or so ago at Manassas. I get a few onions once in a while, and I tell you, I never knew how good onions are until here of late. And then I don’t have anybody to complain of my breath! A chicken is hardly in camp before his head is cut off and he is cooked in a “jiffy.” Our boys will all learn to be pretty good cooks during this campaign, I guess, for they have it to do every day three times. Bill Harris makes us splendid coffee for our tent, and so great is his reputation for good coffee, that we hardly ever eat a meal without company. James Waller of Patrick has two [illegible due to paper tear] in the Patrick Co. (Capt. A. M. Lynbrook). I have only seen one of them as yet. He seems to be a pretty good fellow.
Well, it is growing dark and I have nearly used up all my paper. I must close. You must be sure to remember me to all the kinfolks—to Mrs. Henry, Yencey, Putzel, Dillards, Smith, Meade, Joyner, Griggs, Bullington, &c. &c. &c. Tell Uncle Smith to write to me. Tell Web that Harry is a splendid soldier and has received high compliments from the Colonel. His health is very good. I don’t think he has missed a single drill unless he was on guard. We should like to see Daniel or Ed, or Jimerson or Jim Dyer down here. Send my respects to Dyer, Patrick, Putzel, and all my friends about there. Kiss the children for me darling. I love them more and more every day. Can’t you write a letter to me from them all, just as they dictate it? Sallie, farewell. Remember me as your own, — P. R. Reamey
Letter 4
At Mr. Brawner’s 1 near Manassas July 29, 1861
My Dear Sallie,
Your hasty letter of the 24th has just been sent to me from Camp Pryor where our regiment is again stationed. It finds me neither killed nor wounded but safely housed—and as well as you ever saw me—living like a Lord off the good things which Mrs. Brawner sets before me daily, three times! My being here is, as you are aware by this time (for I suppose you have my three last letters) in consequence of the illness of [brother] John 2 and Hale Fontaine, both of whom are yet very unwell. Hale had nearly recovered but relapsed. John, I think, would have been well if the Brawners could have remained at home during the late excitements but they were forced to fly, though as it turned out, not necessarily, for no Yankees came up this way. I hardly know what to think of John’s case. He spits up very freely, coughs not very hard, bowels tolerably good, tongue moist, and skin perspiring freely, kidneys acting well, yet his mind is confused & delirious & his pulse keeps too quick. This too is pretty much Hale’s case for I scarcely ever saw two cases so nearly alike.
I have just given John a letter from his wife to read but I do not believe that he can understand it. I am giving him quinine, a little morphine, and whiskey punch or julep occasionally, and feeding him pretty freely. I sent you word by letter to Girard that John was better but I don’t think he is well this morning. He is very feeble. Bill Harris & I stay here now. I don’t know how long I shall be permitted to do so, nor when we may have to move—perhaps not before fall—yet I know nothing about it. These people are the kindest I ever saw. Nothing too god for us, send anywhere, do anything for us, &c. &c. [They] will wash and mend for us in spite of our protestations!! I don’t think we could wish John in a better place. Mrs. B[rawner] is and has been emphatically our sister & our mother! When she heard of the battle the other day, she went to the hospital to enquire if any of the Henry Guards were wounded and fully fixed to bring them home with her! I think the Henry Guards will give her a piece of plate as a token of their appreciation of her kindness to them. Nor is it confined to the Guards for she has bed and feeds others every day almost.
I have written you so many little battle sketches that I will forbear at this time. Report here says that we have captured 67 pieces of artillery, and these certainly counted. Besides that, we have taken something like 3,000 prisoners! I have no idea when or where another battle will be fought—not shortly I presume! Col. [Jubal A.] Early has been promoted Brig. General! I am sorry that Bro. Joyner has lost the Chaplaincy. A Mr. Jones who preached at camp yesterday has been appointed I hear. I received a long letter from Joyner today. He speaks of coming down to see us anyhow. His letter gave me the first news of Web’s arrival at home. What sort of a tale does Daniel tell about the war? Harry was here on yesterday and says that the sick ones at the hospital are getting better. I suppose Jimerson will start home shortly as George is better. Charles B. is going about & nearly well. John Hamlett has been at the hospital for a week. I believe he is about well. I never thought that he was sick much.
Poor John. I feel sorry for him, Detested by everybody in the company, he is without friends & without means. He tries to some extent to ingratiate my favor but loses no opportunity to injure me and sow disaffection among my men. I understand he has written a piece about free negroes, &c. in the Whig. Have you seen it? He is meaner, Sallie, that I ever thought he was, unprincipled as he can be I am afraid. But I can’t help feeling sympathy for the poor fellow. Yet I scarcely think him deserving any. Just here I was agreeably interrupted by the appearance of Carter France and Col. Hughes from Stoke’ company who has a son in [A. M.] Lynbrook’s Company. Mr. Armstrong & Bill Bouldin also came up here today to see us.
Today (July 30th), John is very had. He lies in a dull stupid condition with a muttering delirium. I hardly think he will live without great change 24 hours! Perhaps before I close this letter his death may be announced. It is a mournful thing to die away from home but his condition with so many of his friends around him is infinitely better than two-thirds of the sick men. I neglected to tell you when speaking of Hamlett that he told me that his sister Julia had your ring & to tell you to apply to her for it. I told Web to tell you & told Sam to write to you about it. I have forgotten it whenever I was writing.
The weather here is extremely hot and we have a shower every evening or two. The crop of corn here is growing very fast, I am glad to hear of the fine crop in Henry county. I hope you are economical with your grass. You ought not to feed it away very fast. You ought to get rid of some of your cattle as you have too many. I doubt the propriety of more than one horse on the place as I think one will do all your necessary hauling. It would give me great pleasure to visit Martinsville even for a few days. Often indeed in imagination I am there & can see things just as I suppose they are. But htis pleasure must be denied until peace is declared or we are disbanded.
You can’t imagine what pleasure peace would give us. We are all sick of war and its horrors, although we are victors. Nothing but duty keeps us here. I have sent to the Examiner a reply to Mr. Wootton’s card. You will see it perhaps on Wednesday 31st, or in Saturday 3rd August. Please preserve it for future use. Show it to my friends that the reply may be as public as his attack. I don’t think he has made much out of the “flippant Captain” do you? If you should see it, write me word how it takes with the people generally. I can’t imagine what has become of Thomas? Why didn’t he write a card too? Hamlett’s card is signed “Taylor” I understand in the Whig and dated from Henry [county]. I shall stop here and await John’s case before closing my letter. I have written you three letters and Girard Jone since the fight. I hope you all are & will keep calm and quiet.
[July 31st] I have purposely kept my letter open until this morning in order that I might write you more favorable news about John. I am sorry that I cannot. Last night I thought he would certainly die before day but he is still alive though but little if any better. He lies in a stupor, muttering constantly about home. The C. H., and scenes in Henry [county]. His pulse is very feeble but I have hopes of his getting well as long as his bowels keep quiet. His condition is one of extreme danger however and I am afraid that before I can start this letter, that I shall have to speak of his death. The issues of life & death are with our Heavenly Father & I earnestly pray that his life may be spared, but not my will, but Thine oh Lord be done.
Hale Fontaine is considerably better I think. If he is prudent, he may get well. I entertain strong hopes of his recovery today. The rest of our sick at the Hospital are I hear improving, but I am sorry to say that one of the Henry Guards died last night. Tis [Peter Lane Creasy], a grandson of old Dutton Lane Norman from Irisburg. He had been laboring under pneumonia for several days I learn from Harry & Semple, the last of whom has been attending him. Harry stays here with me & John nearly very night & makes a good nurse. Bill [Harris] is also with us & John has everything in the way of attention that he would or could have at home. I buy ice for him every day and Mrs. Brawner cooks anything for him that he needs. I cannot do justice to this good woman. She is a thoroughly business lady with as kind a heart as ever beat and her husband is almost exactly like her—attentive to our every want. Our boys frequently come up to see John and our friends from Henry [county] have called several times to see him but he has never been well enough to enjoy their company. He barely recognizes them & drops off with a stupor again.
I received a letter from Mrs. Joyner with yours. I wish you would express my acknowledgements for the favor when you see him and tell him that I will try & write shortly. Say to Mr. & Mrs. Putzel that if I had my pen, ink and paper along, I should have written to them before now, but that while on the march our tents, trunks, knapsacks, and all were left behind and we could not write even when we had time for want of these articles. There are a good many to whom I should like to write but I am really unwilling to discriminate and have but little opportunity to write to anybody—not even to you. I steal the time, however, to do this as it affords me always a pleasure (a melancholy one though frequently) to write to you. I feel much disappointed too when I fail to get a letter from you. How much pleasure would it be to see you darling. Remember me to all my friends in and about town—especially old C. folks. I am your own, — P. R. R.
1 John C. Brawner and his wife Jane (Clark) Brawner were tenant farmers on the property which consisted of approximately 160 acres on the turnpike near Groveton. The farm was actually the property of George Douglas who purchased it in the late 1840s but who died in October 1855 at the age of 36, leaving it in the possession of his wife, 20 years-old Augusta Gaines and her father, Thomas Gaines. Augusta moved in with her mother in Gainesville and began to rent to the Brawners in 1857. It is common knowledge that the Brawner’s were forced to leave their home during the fighting on 28 August 1862, but it was not known they also vacated the house a year earlier at First Manassas.The property was referred to as “Bachelor’s Hall” in land tax records in 1851. It has been described as a two-story, four-room Georgian-style house.
2 John Starling Reamey (1830-1861) “had the reputation of possessing more native talent, the strongest sense, and keenest insight into character, of any member of his family: was ordinarily intelligent, a pleasant companion, impressing strangers favorably, and, in his family circle, much beloved. When in 1861, the war broke out, he was, like all his brothers, conservative, and anxious to have the Union preserved, but, having a great deal of sectional feeling and State pride, when Virginia went out they went with her. When his brothers and the friends and companions of his youth started for the army, John would not remain behind, yet was strangely impressed with the believe that he would never return. The hardships and exposures of camp life soon told upon his health, and he was prostrated by that dreadful typhoid scourge which destroyed so many young men upon that fatal Manassas ground. He lay sick in a private house which was betwixt the two armies, and too sick to be removed to the general hospital, on the day of the first Manassas battle. His brothers, by military necessity, were obliged to leave him and assume their own positions. The house, being in range of the battle, was deserted by all its occupants save an old negress, who remained with John. What were the feelings of the poor fellow as he heard the quick artillery and the bursting shells as they flew around the lonely house in the roar of battle, the cries of the wounded and dying, the whirling, mingling, sounds and shouts of the victorious or the vanquished, will never be known, for when, after the battle, his brothers Peter and Henry hastened to him, he was in a raging delirium and knew them not. Death soon released him from his sufferings, and on that famous battleground, “He sleeps on in the grave where his comrades have laid him.” He married in 1853, Mrs. Elizabeth Harston Dillard, by whom he had four children. [A Genealogy & Family Memorial, page 214]
Letter 5
Brawner’s near Manassas August 7th 1861
My Dear Darling,
You have no doubt been somewhat prepared for the sad announcement I have to make of John’ death! He died on yesterday, Tuesday morning, Aug 6th, about half after six o’clock. He had scarcely been conscious except for a few moments at a time, for a week, and even then hardly to be called so. There was no opportunity therefore to “send a message to friends” nor to make any preparation for Eternity! His only expression in regard to religion was that he was willing to die in his Universalist faith, but this was made I fear without that reflection which men would like to have at such a time. He had become seriously inclined & no doubt prayed during his illness often for he was a man of prayer as I know from various remarks in camp. This barely affords a hope of his salvation. God alone can tell the result. I had been with him for the past 10 days, and Harry much of the time. Dr. Semple & [Surgeon Sterling] Neblett also visited him frequently. I think he died from gangrene of the lungs, as a consequence of the fever. You may rest assured that we used every exertion to save him, that he did not suffer for anything we could obtain.
The family as I have written you before were remarkably kind & attentive, supplying everything in the way of diet &c., &c. I sent to Richmond for a metallic coffin and have just received a telegraph dispatch that it will reach here this evening. He will be buried in Mr. Brawner’s family ground and when we can remove him, we will bring him home to be buried at Marrowbone [Plantation].
George & I tried to get Gen. Early to let us carry him home, but he wouldn’t consent, I suppose for the reason that too many applications similar might be made & it takes too many healthy men to go with a corpse home! & they need the soldiers here. Some of these times, I hope we can remove him. It may fall to others to discharge this duty after the war is over, and it may have to be done for us; I hope not however. I hope we may live through the war. We have just lost another one of the [Henry] Guards named “General Purdy”—this makes three. [The] Franklin [Rifles] volunteers [of Co. B] have lost several. I believe ten in all. We shall perhaps move from here in a day or two, but I don’t know where—perhaps over towards the battle ground again. I will let you know when we move.
It is very hot and the health of the regiment is very bad. I think that a Mr. Fair of our company is likely to die. I hope he may recover, however. I got a letter from Bryant last night full of good wishes, &c. Charles Bryant came over to see us from the hospital a few days ago. He looks thin, but is much improved of late. Sam Sheffield also was here.
Tell Ed I suppose he can join our company but I advise him to stay at home. Henry [county] will furnish enough volunteers I suppose without him and his presence at home is or ought to be needed. He would soon get tired here for at best, it is a hard life—full of dangers in camp or on the field. Say to Mrs. Ballington that B is very well. Also to Mrs. [James F.] Gregory, Mrs. Holt & [Thomas L.] West their husbands are well. Sam & Harry & I are all very well. Hale F[ontaine] is better. George is a little complaining—better this morning he wrote me word Bill Harris has been a very faithful nurse for John Green has been sick, but has got well I believe. Sam Shelton has been appointed post master temporarily, excusing him from drill. It suits him first rate.
Please assure Mrs. [Elizabeth Hairston Dillard] Reamey of our attention to John and all else I have written about him. Did Mrs. Thomas, Mrs. Putzel, and Aunt Patsy get my letters to them? Excuse my short letter. I feel very melancholy about John, and have nothing to write. Kiss our dear children, Darling, and always think of me as yours only. — P. R. Reamey
Spared & Shared 23 