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 Oliva C. (Jordan) Davidson (b. 1831), the oldest child of James Casey Jordan (1794-1855) and Adelaide Taylor Johnson (1811-1865) of Isle of Wight County, Virginia. Olivia (or “Livie”) had several siblings she mentions in her letter: James “Casey” Jordan, Jr. (b. 1836), Adelaide (“Addie”) C. Jordan (b. 1840), Susan (“Sue”) C. Jordan (b. 1842), Rufus T. Jordan (b. 1849), and Robert (b. 1849). The Jordan family went back several generations in that county and were prominent Quakers. In the 1850 US Census, the last one taken before her father’s death and before her marriage in 1852, Livie was enumerated with her parents in Smithfield, Virginia.
Livie was married to a Baptist minister named Andrew T. Davidson (b. 1832) in Isle of Wight county on 27 October 1852. In the 1860 US Census, the couple were enumerated in Clarksville, Mecklenburg county, Virginia. It appears that when this letter was written in April 1863, Livie and her husband were still living in Mechlenburg county and that Livie’s younger siblings and mother were living with them, perhaps having abandoned their home in Isle of Wight county during the war.
Livie wrote the letter to her cousin, Mary Ann Jordan (1828-1915), the daughter of John Alexander Jordan (b. 1809-Aft1863) and Keturah G. Firth (1812-1873) of Smithfield, Isle of Wight county, Virginia. Mary Ann married William Thomas Buxton (1825-1891) in February 1864 in Northampton, North Carolina.
Transcription
Addressed to Miss Mary A. Jordan, Portsmouth, Va.
Oakwood April 28th 1863
My loved cousin,
Your last letter was received little more than a week ago most gladly, I do assure you, for I had been extremely anxious to hear from you—particularly after hearing you had accepted a situation in Carolina. The seal was very eagerly broken and its contents perused but I was disappointed in finding no description of your new home—not even the name of the family in which you reside. You must write more fully and give me a minute account of everything connected with yourself & believe I am deeply interested. I do hope you may be happy where you are & that you may succeed in getting Lucy a situation for as you say it will be much more pleasant for you both. You did not say whether you were teaching in a private family as governess or had charge of a school.
Your letter was mailed from Pleasant Hill. Uncle James Johnson lived there for several years—during the whole of his first wife’s life & several years after he was married the second time. I was never there but have frequently passed it on the cars. Do you live there or near there? You said you lived 10 miles from Weldon. Uncle James now lives three & you must try and go to see them. They will be very glad indeed to see you. When I find out with what family you reside, I will write to Aunt Hattie & Jimmie and they will go to see you.
We haven’t heard from Smithfield in nearly three weeks except a short business letter to Mr. D[avidson] from Uncle William [Jordan] 1 received a few days ago. At the close of that, he said that Longstreet with 30,000 men had surrounded Suffolk—had demanded of Peck a surrender but he had refused. Longstreet then demanded that the women & children be allowed to leave the place. This too was refused and Uncle William said he was hourly expecting to hear of dreadful slaughter. We have watched the papers anxiously but no account is given of anything but skirmishing & I don’t suppose anything like a general engagement has taken place.
I was glad to hear that Elfrida Brewer 2 was not allowed to proceed in her visit to her brother for since her extensive intimacy with the Yankees, I do not think she ought to be countenanced by any southern [family]. It is shameful indeed & I blush for her & her mother for I suppose one is as bad as the other.
I suppose you hear quite regularly from your family at home. We are glad to hear that Uncle John is improving. They were all well when we last heard but him & he was better. I don’t know why they don’t write to us from S[mithfield]; they have been writing pretty regularly once a week until recently. Uncle William wrote that Charlie had been ordered back to his company & as he did not think he could stand the service, he was about to put him in a substitute. It would cost him $2500—quite a sum.
Casey has been to see us recently. He was quite thin & looked badly. Said he didn’t enjoy much health in Richmond. He had only 20 days furlough & so couldn’t stay with us long. We hated very much to see him go away again. It had been so long since any of us had seen him that a few days seemed nothing. I hope he will be able to get another furlough during the summer.
The young folks in this neighborhood have been quite gay all winter. Lidia & Sue & Bob have been to several dinings and parties and weddings. Bob is so large for his age that he almost passes for a man & is invited about with the grown folks & escorts ladies & Sue all about. You would be surprised to see him in size. He looks several years older than Casey. Rufus too has grown considerably but not as much as Bob. They are not at school. Unfortunately there is no school in the neighborhood & Ma is not able to board them out. We try to get them to study at home but it’s almost a thing impossible—there is so much to take their attention on the farm. Ma has been quite sick with a cold & cough but is up & nearly well again.
Mr. D[avidson] too has had a terrible cold for two weeks—great [ ] with pain in his chest & lungs & it makes me miserable whenever this is the case. You know the predisposition of the family to consumption. He sends his best love to you & wishes you much happiness in your new situation. Says he has always regarded you as quite an intelligent lady, but if you become a Baptist from principle, he will think it is the smartest thing you ever done. He is a warm conscientious Baptist himself.
Ma, Addie, Sue & the boys all send best love to you and ,any wishes for your happiness & we all say we wish you would come to see us in your vacation. Now don’t this is mere invitation of favor. We all want very much to see you & wish you would come. Write to me often. I prize your letters very much & am always glad to receive them. Accept my sincere love and believe me now & ever your friend & cousin, — Livie D[avidson].
1 Livie’s uncle, William Henry Jordan (1807-1865), was a merchant in Smithfield, Isle of Wight county, Virginia.
2 Before the Civil War, Elfrida Charlotte Holland (1837-1925) of Suffolk married Capt. Jesse B. Brewer (1825-1862) of the 13th Virginia Cavalry. He died early in 1862 and Elfrida lived with her mother Catherine B. Holland in Suffolk which became a Union occupied city early in 1862. Near the end of the Civil War, on 19 March 1865, Elfrida (Holland) Brewer remarried Capt. George W. Lewis, 3rd New York Cavalry.
The following letter was written by John S. Sankey (Unk-1837), the son of John Thompson Sankey (1745-1819) and Ann Linton Thompson Daniel (1746-1810). He was married in Lowndes county to Patience Stephens on 27 December 1832. He was appointed Justice of the Peace in 1835 but he died on 10 May 1837 in Montgomery county, Alabama.
The letter describes the commercial business prospects for central Alabama in the mid 1830’s in response to an enquiry. Why Abijah Catlin, a prominent Litchfield, Connecticut, lawyer would have been enquiring remains a mystery.
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Lowndes County [Alabama] August 29th, 1834
Dear Sir,
By some bad management in our post master or mail carriers, I did not receive your letter until two days since. I do not live in Hayneville at this time owing to bad health and but for bad health at this time, I could give you correct information—at least correct information to most of the questions you have asked in yours of the 28th of July. I am unable to visit the tax collector of the county, and any other source of information as to the quantity of goods sold in the county would be mere conjecture. And as it is upon my guess that you must form your opinion, I will endeavor to be as near the truth as possible.
The population of Lowndes County is, I judge, about twelve thousand including freemen and slaves. The greater part, however, are whites. The county joins Montgomery County and is situated immediately west and below on the Alabama River. Hayneville is about twelve miles from the river. There are several little villages in the county at all of which there are several stores besides several stands of single stores, dispersed throughout the county. There are six stores in Hayneville at this time, but one of them I think will not continue long in business in that place. The stocks of goods are generally small. I cannot speak positively on this head, but I suppose they do not exceed eight or ten thousand dollars each. Of the two stores that sell the most goods, I can tell you what I have heard the owners say about their sales this year. One of them commenced business in January last and has sold twenty-one or two hundred dollars per month. The other has perhaps exceeded these sales by two or three hundred dollars per month. Goods are mostly sold at fifty per cent above cost, often much higher, but seldom under. These two stores sell more than the other four individually. I should guess that sixty-five or seventy thousand dollars worth of goods will be sold in Hayneville this year, and three times that much sold in the county at the villages and country stands. I think that another store would do a better business in Hayneville than in any other village or stand in the county, and from what I have stated above, I think you will be able to come to as correct a conclusion as to the propriety of opening goods there. I can inform you of one fact, however,—viz, there is at this time but little clanishness amongst the customers to stores, and a purchaser will trade with the men that will give him the best bargain.
The Alabama river is a noble stream for navigation by steamers, but fruit is generally high. Sometimes competition brings it down until the passion is over and the combination formed by the owners. Montgomery on the Coosa river (the west branch of the Alabama) is the head of steamboat navigation and there is a little town about twelve or eighteen months old which is increasing in size and trade with almost unprecedented rapidity and many suppose it will equal Montgomery in a few years and surpass it much in time. I was once at that place and judge if proper enterprise is exerted by the people of the village for several years particularly by having good roads on the east side of the Coosa River, it will secure an immense trade to their little town. Much the largest portions of the Creek Lands (about which there has been so much row) lies nearer to that point and must get their supplies through that place from Mobile. The people of this part of Alabama, rich and poor, depend almost entirely for their clothing and provisions upon the merchants compared to that part of Georgia that you are best acquainted with. There is not half so much consumed of some products here as there. The northern and southern portions have little dealings.
The produce of the northern part of the state is carried down the Tennessee River then to New Orleans by the Mississippi. I am sorry that my situation is such at this time that I cannot give you a more exact statement in answer to several questions which might have been done if I was able to ride ten or fifteen miles. You must, however, excuse me as this is the best I can do at this time. I must stop as my paper is nearly out. I should like to hear what you conclude and when you design locating. If you should settle in another place than Hayneville, inform us.
These letters were written by Charles D. Wilson (1846-1916), the son of Robert Wilson and Sarah Ward of Constantia, Oswego county, New York. Charles volunteered to serve in Co. K. , 81st New York Infantry. Charles claimed to have been born in 1843 when he enlisted in December 1861 but census records reveal that he was actually born in 1846 so he was probably only 15 or 16. He reenlisted as a veteran in 1864 and was wounded before Petersburg on 15 August 1864 and mustered out of the service on account of his wounds on 8 September 1865.
In 1880, Charles was a laborer in Oil City, Venango county, Pennsylvania, where he resided with his wife Libby Ryan (1855-1936). He later relocated to Jamestown, Chautauqua county, New York, where he died in 1916.
I couldn’t find an image of Charles but here is one of Pvt. Edward Fallen wearing the uniform of the 81st New York Infantry. Ed served in Co. C. (Al & Claudia Niemiec Collection)
Letter 1
April 4, 1862
Dear Sister,
I thought I would write a few lines to let you know that I got your letter while on the Potomac just after leaving Alexandria, or the mail was put on board just as we left. We left Washington and then went to Alexandria by land and stayed to Alexandria one day and then left for Fortress Monroe by the Potomac and steamboat and was on board of her two days. As we was coming down the Potomac, we seen a great many Rebel batteries along the river and when we got to Fortress Monroe, it was a grand sight. The fort covers one hundred acres of ground. It is of solid stone and some thirty feet from the top down to the water. It is straight up and down and all around the fort is a ditch like the canal and the water is very deep so that it is impossible for to get in or out except in one place where there is a drawbridge. We are about 11 miles from the fort right among the Rebels. We are the advance regiment. The Rebels are not two miles from us. Our pickets saw them last night. It is my turn to go on picket tomorrow and then we have our guns loaded all the time, ready for an attack any time. We are close to the James river where the Rebel ship Merrimack is now. Yesterday we heard their guns all day. She had a fight with one of our ships.
It is nice and warm down here. The grass has started and the trees are all green. It is a very wild country. It is all woods but in little spots. They are all secesh here. Every house has a secesh in it. So I must close now for it is supper time. You must write soon. From your brother as ever, — Charles Wilson
Direct as follows: Charles Wilson, 81st Regt. Co. K, N. Y. S. Infantry, Fortress Monroe, Va., in care of Col. Rose.
Letter 2
Headquarters, Co. K, 81st [New York] Regiment [At Harrison’s Landing on the James River] August 2, 1862
Dear Mother,
I received your letter last night but was sorry to hear you say that you had not got a letter for I wrote two since I got your letter. I had not had a letter from you in most 5 weeks and so I wrote again. As for that letter, I had not got it but I got the paper but no letter so I was not to blame. Tell Henry I sent him three letters and as you think I have seen enough of the war to be satisfied but I have not for I learn some things every day and you know that if I was there that I would be on the canal and that that would be worse and I can do better here than there.
As you wanted to know how we fared, I will tell you. We get potatoes and onions, beets and pork bacon, fresh beef, beans, rice, sugar, coffee, tea, and molasses and desecrated vegetable for soup. We live good now—better than we ever did before. We get hard bread—that is the worst of it. And as for clothing, we can get that whenever we want it. Every week if one liked to get it. So often they will not let a man go dirty and ragged. We are inspected every week by the general and we have got to be clean when we come out, as well as our guns.
I wish you would send me some postage stamps if you can for I cannot buy them for any price but I can get paper and envelopes as cheap here as there. I got them postage stamps that you sent in your last letter before this. I sent you some more money. I sent it with Robert Todd by Express. So write soon and all about the money. How much you get and how much you have to pay for it and I would like it if you could sed me some stamps.
We are in the same spot that we was before—close to the river. It is a nice scene to look off on the river and see all of the gunboats and transports lie at anchor. The river is full of gunboats. The Monitor lies off opposite us. So I will close now. Write often for I do. From your most affectionate son, — C. Wilson
This letter was written by Oliver Burchfield (b. 1845), the son of Reuben Milton Burchfield (1808-1896) of Salem, Jefferson county, Ohio who enlisted on 1 November 1861 in Co. L, 1st West Virginia Cavalry. Oliver died of disease on 10 May 1862 near McDowell, Virginia.
I could not find an image of Oliver but here is Leonidas Hollenback who served in the 1st West Virginia Cavalry
Transcription
Patriotic stationery used by Oliver with slogan, “A vigorous prosecution of the war and no compromise under the guns of rebels.”
Clarksburg [Virginia] February 19, 1862
Dear Father,
I take my pen in hand to write to you a few lines for to let you know that I am well at present and hope that these few lines may reach you and all the rest enjoy the same state of health, We still remain in Clarksburg but we do not know how long we may remain here for we do not know when we may get a call to go somewhere else but I am enjoying myself very well at present and in all probability the longer we stay the better I like it. We drill every few days which I like very well. We have not done any scouting for some time but we are getting our horses in good plite [?]. We are lookin’ with patience for our pay but do not know at what time we will get it but news at present that this bill that was before the House for one hundred and fifty millions of Treasury Notes has passed Congress and I am in hopes that we will get our pay soon.
Our men has been successful in Kentucky. It appears they have been successful in all points. It appears that the secesh have left Romney and retreated to Winchester where we expect a big fight there some time soon. I think the fighting is pretty well over in Western Virginia. Nothing more at present but remain your affectionate son until death. Yours truly, –Oliver Burchfield
[to] Reuben Burchfield
Write soon. Direct your letter as usual. Give the news in general.
Camp Chase, Ohio
Miss Burchfield,
Yours of September 28, [1861] is at hand though I must apologize for not replying sooner. I should have written long ere this had I been permitted. You will have to take the will for the deed. I will have to promise to do better the next time. Don’t know that I need make any apologies as it seems that I was about as prompt as yourself. However, we will not quarrel about that. I have been on detached service for some time nor do I know when I will get back…[end of letter missing]
William John Hurst, Co. K, 3rd Ohio Infantry, (photo courtesy: broost-53, Boston, MA)
This letter was written by English emigrant William John Hurst (1837-1897) of Eat Liverpool, Columbiana county, Ohio, who enlisted in Co. K, 3rd Ohio Volunteer Infantry (OVI). He enlisted as a corporal in late April 1861 and mustered out as a corporal in May 1864. He later served as a Color Sergeant in Co. I, 191 Ohio Infantry for 3 months in 1865.
William wrote the letter to his younger sister, Mary E. Hurst (1841-1918) who later became the wife of Major J. B. Mills of Co. I, 78th OVI.
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Elizabethtown, [Kentucky] December 12th 1861
Dear Sister,
I received two letters from you today, one dated December 4th and the other December the 8th and was happy to hear that you was all well and I am happy to hear that you received that box as I did not want to lose it. I believe I am unlucky. I have lost one of them blue shirts which you sent me which I would not have took $4 for it. I also lost them bullets and one of my gloves and if I keep on I will lose my head, and then poor Bub will be gone up.
Well, laying all jokes aside, we will have a fight before long if Johnson and Buckner will only stand, and some say it will be the bloodiest battle that ever was if they will stand, as they have a large force there and are getting reinforcements every day. But I think we will be able to tackle with them and to clean them out like a shot gun.
It has been warm here in the middle of the days and cold in the night time. The regiment arrived here today and I have received five letters with them, two from you, two from Richard, and one from Alf Needs at Washington. And from what he says, they are going to fight pretty soon. But from what the papers say, that all the forces on the Potomac and in Missouri will be stopped and inactive until we have our fight out here and that that is all that they are waiting for. And I hope we will give the world satisfaction when we fo have it. The people place great confidence in our troops but they say that if we was to fall back, that their town and their lives would not be worth anything, and I do not suppose they would. This place is about as big as Wellsville and not a bad looking place. The Court House is here of this county.
I wrote a letter to you on the 10th of this month from here and sent another likeness in it which I hope you will receive it all safe. Direct to Elizabethtown, Hardin county, Kentucky. Write soon and oblige your brother, — W. J. Hurst
Give my love to Mother, Father, and George and tell Clara I will fetch Jeff Davis’s head for her to play with.
It is reported that we go back to Louisville for provost guards but I doubt it.
I could not find an image of George, but here is one of John Irby (1840-1871) who served with him in Co. C, 3rd Indiana Cavalry. He suffered an injury to his left hand from a canister shot at Brandy Station, Virginia, on 4 August 1864. This photograph taken shortly after that. (Eldon Irby Collection)
These letters were written by George Washington Martin (1843-1864), the son of John Martin (1792-1861) and Frances (“Fanny”) Horton (1818-1899) of Craig township, Switzerland county, Indiana.
George enlisted on 22 August 1861 as a private in Co. C, 3rd Indiana Cavalry. According to his pension record, George was taken prisoner while on a scout 29 January 1864 near James City, Virginia. He was initially confined at Richmond and then sent to Andersonville, Georgia, on 4 March 1864. He was admitted to the hospital at Andersonville on 29 May and died two days later on 31 May 1864.
In the affidavits filed by acquaintances of the Martin family, Ostrum Bowright, a neighbor and comrade of George’s in the 3rd Indiana Cavalry, attested under oath that George’s father, John Martin, was poor, was an inebriate, and finally became insane and died at the poor house in the fall of 1861, leaving his family no property whatsoever ever and apparently a lot of debt. Fanny lived, according to Ostrum, in a run down 4-room shack that she rented from Jonathan Fromand on the outskirts of Mount Sterling.
In George’s letters, there are frequent reference to his younger brother, Edward M. Martin (1843-1926). Ed enlisted as a private in Co. H, 6th Indiana Infantry. He mustered into the regiment in September 1861 and mustered out in September 1864. He survived the war, married Ella Corns (1852-1915) and settled in Vevay, Indiana. Another brother, Joseph H. Martin (1845-1911) later served in Co. H, 10th Indiana Cavalry.
[Note: These letters were found in the Pension Records in Washington D. C. and made available to me for transcription and publication of Spared & Shared by Bradley Quinlin of Suwanee, Georgia. It’s rather unusual to find this many letters in the pension files.]
Letter 1
August 6th 1861
My dear Mother and sisters,
I received your letter this morning and was glad to hear from you. I was glad to hear that you was well and I hope those few lines will find you in the same health when you get this letter…This has been three letters that I have wrote to you and only got one. I think you ought to write me a letter every week. I want you to send me my brass pen holder and a good pen in your next letter for I can’t get one when I want it to write you a letter when I want to. Now be sure to send it to me if you please and write to me how you all are and how you are doing at home.
Pvt. William H. Sheets served with George in Co. C, 3rd Indiana Cavalry. (Daniel N. Thompson Collection)
I am Police of the Guard today. I feel pretty big to day. I am well and hearty. I weigh 185 pounds and I feel like fighting. You needn’t feel bad about me for t’other night when I was laying down, I said to myself, if I ever got home, I wanted to dream of you and I dreamed that I come home and you all was so glad to see me and Mother, you know that my dreams always come to pass. You know that I always believe in dreams.
When you get this letter, write when you got it.
We get plenty to eat here now but no whiskey to drink. We are all out of money here now but we expect to get some next week and when I get some, I will send it home to you all as soon as I get it. We are all well here except a few and they ain’t very well. Thomas Smelly is getting about well.
Here is my best respects to you all at present time and I hope those few lines will find you all in the same health. Here is a few lines to Miss Corit. We heard that Mary was very sick and he wanted them to write how they all were and write soon. Ossie [Ostrum Bowright] is well and hearty and full of fun. Tell them as soon as you get it. — G. W. Martin
Letter 2
September 26th 1861
My dear Sister and Mother,
I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well at the present time and I hope these few lines will find you in the same health. I received your first letter on the 19th of September. Was glad to hear from you all and I received your last letter on the 15th and I was glad to hear that you was getting along so well at this time. Tell Andy he must not cry when you call my name. Tell him to be a soldier and not cry about me for when I get some money, I will send him a present and I will send you all a present.
My best friend is P[aul] Clark here but all are good to me. There is no sickness here now nor hain’t been. We are a brave set of boys. We care for nothing. We are the boys that fear no noise when we are far from home.
“We hain’t got our arms yet but we can kill a regiment of Rebels with clubs. We are men here. I can kill six secession men and not half try.”
— George W. Martin, Co. C, 3rd Indiana Cavalry, 26 September 1861
You may sell my scythe and cradle to Cotton Bonty [Bonta?] but he aught to give you three dollars and a half for it. Mother, you are just as [ ] to me as Mary Ann, but you know id she didn’t get my ring, she would cry all the time about it. We don’t know when we will be paid. You know just as much about it as we do. I thought I would have some money by this time but we will have some soon. Tell all of my friends to be good to you all while I am fighting for their country. They say here that if they don’t arm us here pretty soon, they will send us home and arm us and send us to Kentucky. We hain’t got our arms yet but we can kill a regiment of Rebels with clubs. We are men here. I can kill six secession men and not half try. We heard that Kentucky had took Vevay.
If I have anything at home, sell it if it will do you any good. Tell Cuney and Dosh to save all the fodder they can for the cow this winter. Oh dear Mother, and brother and sisters, I am a great ways from you now. Don’t you grieve about me for I am a coming back to Old Indiana again. They can’t kill me. You all know that, and if Joseph can’t get him no coat, make him one out of mine. I would just like to see you all just as well as you would me. When I get some money, I will send you my money.
Dear sister, tell Miss Dow [?] that Thomas Smelly has got so that he can walk and he has changed his looks so that you would not know him. But he is getting better every day. Tell Doll [Dewell C.] McMackin to write me and Thomas Smelly a letter and tell Ike Freeman to write me a letter.
Letter 3
October 6th 1861
My dear friends,
I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well at present time and I hope these few lines will find you in the same health. I made a mistake in my letter. I dated it in the wrong month and I wrote this. I thought I would right another to you. We are well here at present time. I am well and hearty adn weigh 185 pounds and I see the pleasure of my life here and plenty of fun in our old camp ground.
Dear mother and sister, I wrote this letter today because it was Sunday. I wrote you a letter on Saturday. That is the one I made the mistake on. Then I wrote this one. You must send me my brass pen holder and a good pen.
A soldier’s life is a dreary one. I would like to see you all very well and you would like to see me I expect at home once more. Don’t grieve about me Mother for I am coming back home when war is over. They can’t kill me, you know that. And you must do the best you can till I get some money. I expect to get some next week and if I do, I will send it to you and I will send you all a present. Here is my letter to you all at home.
Dear mother and sisters and brothers, you must think of me but not cry. Here is my love to all in Mt. Sterling and I want all of them to write and be good to you and I will not forget them.. Be sure to tell them to write me a letter and sign all their names. Here is the paper I have got and you must send me some to write to you for I don’t get more here that is fit to write on now. When you get this letter, you must write when you got it. I write to you twice a week. You must write how you are doing and how you are getting along at home.
I am dirty and sassy as a hog. And write to me if you got that letter that I wrote to you when I told you might sell my scythe and cradle to Cotton Bonty. You must write whether you got it or not.
I am your dear son, Mother, far from home in a secession country and I want you to write to me where Edward is if you can. And write soon. I received your letter this 5th of October and was glad to hear from you all. I can’t get paper enough to write to you. — G. W. Martin
Letter 4
[Letter from George’s brother]
October 17, 1861
[Dear] George Washington Martin,
I take the opportunity of writing you a few lines to let you know that we are all well at present time and when you receive these lines, I hope they will find you in the same health. And when you get it—the letter—you must not let it hurt your feelings what I write, for dear brother, you know that I would not lie to you and I want you to believe what this letter tells you.
We saved over half of your fodder at John Nash [Mosher?] and he come over here and dared Mother or me or anybody else to come inside of the fence. He said you give him your corn and we should not have it. He told Mother and me if we come in the field again, that he would shoot us and George, if we don’t get it—your corn—to live on, what do you think we will live on. And he came over here in the house and abused Mother to all you ever heard in your life, and it has grieved Mother almost to death because you let him have your corn and would not let us have it and you ought to know what a good boy Joseph is and when he went over to save the rest of your fodder, John Nash run him off and threatened to take his wagon whip and whip him all the way home if he went in the field again. And now George, we want you to send us word who is to have your corn—us or Mr. John Nash?
And we received your letter the 15th of October and you named Mother’s name so many times in your letter that she cried all day after we got the letter. She says you are her one dear son and she says that she will always remember you and we would give our right hand to see you come home once more to let people know who they are a running over. And now, dear brother, we want you and Paul Clark to write Harvey Bonty and Mr. Brown an order to have your corn gathered in their care for us. Mr. Bonty told us to write to you for an order for the corn in his care and he would gather it and haul it home for us. If you and Paul Clark would send him an order on the field which John Nash rented from Nathan Waldron and you bought it from John Nash and we have got a very long well ever since you have been gone and everybody has been good to us—all but old Parker and John Nash.
And dear brother, there is a long farewell for Mother to you for she thinks that she will never see you anymore for she thinks you are gone forever more to stay. She hain’t got anything to do now but grieve about her two boys in the army for when we lay down at night on our good, warm beds, our thoughts is on you and Edward in the army for you both have to take your beds on the ground in strange lands—where? we know not. And dear brother, don’t never forget your God that rules the Heaven and Earth. And now, dear brother, if you get sick while you are there, you must pray to our blessed God to spare you to come back home once more and your best friend here, Doll [Dewell C.] McMackin, he was here yesterday and told me to send you and Thomas Smelly [ ]. Write him a letter and send him both of your respects. And George, when we could not get any wood, Doll [Dewell] hauled us a load of wood and he said that we should not suffer for wood this week. And George, you may write back on the same paper and you must write to me when you get it. — your brother
Bladensburg, Maryland October 28, 1861
Friend Martin, as your kind letter has just come to hand and George is unwell and desires me to write something concerning his corn at John Marsh’s, he says that John in the first was to find the team and feed and he was to do the work and have one third and then him and Ed and Joseph bought John’s third for ten dollars and paid him six dollars in money and four dollars in work and John was to find the team. Together their two-thirds and would done one third. This he says he can prove by Mr. Waldon and you and Marian. He says to tell Mr. Banta and Brown to tent that for him and he will pay them for it. Yours respectfully, —Paul Clark. (for George Martin)
I would say not to be uneasy about George for he is not dangerous.
Letter 5
Washington D. C. October 20, 1861
My dear Mother,
I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well today and I hope those few lines will find you in the same health. My dear Mother, I ain’t very well at the present time but I hope these few lines will find you all well today. It is Sunday and I thought I would write you a good letter. You sent me word I must write you a good letter and dear Mother, I thought I would write one to you today. I received your letter on Saturday the 19th day of October and was glad to hear from you all. I have a bad cold and don’t feel much like writing today but I like camp life very well and I see plenty of fun here but has got no money yet.
Dear Mother, I was glad to hear where Edward was and I want you to write to him and tell him to write to me how he likes to be a soldier and how he likes his company and then you get an answer from him and write it to me, And dear Mother, you must write how the children is and tell them to send me some word about them in the next letter you send to me. I would like to see little Darly very well and all of you but I could not leave Washington and come home at all. There is nothing here but soldiers and music and I never will leave here as long as they can beat a drum and play a fife. Mother, you know I like to hear music.
This paper was sent to us from Vevay and I thought I would write to you all. Now Mother and Mary Ann, I want you to write as soon as you get this letter and tell all in Mt. Sterling to send me their best respects…I hope you will not forget to write to me….— George W. Martin
Letter 6
[Approximately 1 November 1861]
Dear Mother,
I received your letter the 23rd day of October in the evening and was glad to hear from you all but, dear Mother, I am sorry to hear that you was used so bad at home. Now dear Mother, if I had thought that you would of been served so mean, I never would left you in my life at home to be run over by such a mean son-of-a-bitch John Nash. Mother, it hurt my feelings to read your letter and to think how you was used. I always was so glad to get a letter from you till now. You wrote so nice to me and how well you was a getting along.
Dear Mother, you must not think I never will come home again for I am a coming back when this war is over with plenty of money. Dear Mother, I have dreamed of you and the children every night for a week and thought that there was something the matter. They told me that you should not be run over if I left home but I imagine they don’t care now. Dear Mother, when you get this letter, take it to Mr. Brown and tell him to see about my corn and get it for you and I will pay him for it as soon as I get some money and I will be much obliged to him.
Mother, write as soon as you get this and tell me how you are getting along. — George W. Martin
Letter 7
November 25, 1861
Dear Mother,
I received your letter this morning and I was glad to hear from you and hear that you was well and was doing well at the present time. Dear Mother, I was glad to hear from Edward. I would like to see him but I can’t and I would like to see you all. You wanted to know how many letters I had received from you. I have got ten letters from you since I left Madison [Indiana] and when you get this letter, write to me how many you have got from me since I left Madison. Mother, you wanted me to get my miniature [photograph] for you but I can’t get any place to get it taken. But when I get where they taken them, I will get mine and send it to you.
Dear Mother and brothers and sisters, here is my best respects to you.
Dear Mother, I have sent you twenty dollars by Express and when you get it you must be saving with it and buy good clothes for the children and for you and Mary Ann. And if you ain’t got enough, write to me and I will send you some more. I wrote a letter last week to you. When I got my pay and I wrote this one, I received your letter this morning that had three stamps on it and I thought I would answer it….
Letter 8
December 1, 1861
Dear Mother,
I received your letter this evening on Sunday and I was glad to hear from you and hear that you all was well and hearty. This is three letters that I have wrote to you and I have got two. And you say that you don’t get any from me. I write once a week to you and you say you don’t get any letters from me. Dear Mother, we have got paid off and I have sent you 35 dollars to buy your winter cloth. I was glad to hear from Ed. I shall write to him soon.
Dear Mother, I have been sick for some time. When you get htis letter, don’t write till I do again for you say you don’t get any letters from me. Dear Mother, I am well and hearty now. I ain’t got anything to write to you. I have got to wash and clean my things to go on fress parade and I ain’t got time to write any more.
We are all well but a few and they have got bad colds. Sickness is pretty bad here now. I hope that when you get this letter it will find you all well and hearty. Mother, just let that 230 cent [?] alone till I write again. Mother, I want you to write to me if you got that corn at John Mash and write too if it was good and where you put it. And write to me if you have got it gathered or not. And write how you all are i nMt. Sterling. And tell them all to write to me. And Mary Ann, you must write to me how all the children is. I will have to close my letter now.
Dear Mother, here is my love to you in this letter and all the children. — George W. Martin
To his beloved Mother, fifteen hundred miles from home.
Letter 9
December 10, 1861
Dear Mother,
I received your letter last night on the 9th of December. I was glad to hear from you and hear that you was getting along so well at home. I received your letter and Ike [Snow’s?] letter and the paper, two sheets, and three stamps and I was glad to get them. Dear Mother, I am well and hearty now. I have got well and I see a heap of fun in the company. You want me to come home but I wouldn’t leave my company and come home for no price at all.
We are in sight of the Rebels. We can hear the cannon balls whizz when they fire and see the bomb shells burst. Our gunboats went down yesterday and fired on the Rebels and routed them and burnt three fine houses—our men did. And we expect a big fight in a few days now and I hope that we will for we all want to whip the black sons-of-bitches so bad that we don’t know what to do. We are all hankerin’ for a fight.
We have plenty to eat and plenty to wear. We have fresh beef every other day and hog most every day and good coffee and rice and beans and potatoes and sugar and molasses. Don’t you think we can stand it on that grub? We was out on a scout a few days ago and took five mules from the Rebels and has got a team out of them to haul our things and we are right in the Rebel’s country now.
I write Ed a letter t’other day and I hope when I get an answer from him he will be well and hearty. Mary Ann, I want you to write to me if you got the corn over to John Mash or not. And write too if you have got enough to do you this winter. And write to me how you get your milling done and write to me who hauls your wood and how you pay for it. And write how the children is and Joseph and Andy. You must write to me in the next letter how you are. Mary Ann, you wanted to know when I settled with Mr. Froman. I paid him the rent up to the first day of August. You hunt my papers and you will see when we settled on. Then you will know all about it. Mother, I sent you 20 dollars by Dan Glade. When you get it, you must write to me and be sure to do it.
Dear Mother, you don’t know what a soldier your son George is. I can whip Jeff Davis or any other old woman.
Letter 10
January 25, 1862
Dear Mother,
I received your kind letter today and I was glad to hear from you and hear that you all were well and hearty at this time. This is three letters I have wrote to you this week and I have got one today. You said you wanted me to tell you the story about the old sow. Well, don’t you know the old sow that father bought from old Billy Mitchell when we lived in Point [?] Run—that is the sow? Don’t you know when I was eating a piece of her, I got a piece of her in my teeth and I said, “God damn the old sow. I wish she was in old Mitchell and he was in Ireland.” I meant Maryland and said Ireland. That is the joke.
You said you wanted me to write you the news. Well there is none here. It is a dry place here. The mud is three feet deep here and still raining. We see a good time here. We have plenty to eat and wear and don’t do anything adn we have plenty of horse feed. Our horses all is fat now.
Well, you said you wanted to know how I built my house. Well, I cut the log and put them on my back and built my house and I built my chimbley [chimney] with rocks and sticks and mud and covered it with my tent and it is just as good a house as anybody’s house, I can build a big fire in it and sweat.
Well, you wanted to know who stayed in it with me. James Pollison and Charles Johnson—that young man that went with Bordman and me a squirrel hunting when we killed three [ ] three owl. I have got three men in my house—the best men in the company with me. I have got paid off and sent you 25 dollars by Mr. Danglade. When you get it, you should spend it for something to eat and ear. You said I must write to Ed on that paper. Well, Mother, I have wrote to Ed two or three times but go no answer. I won’t write to him till I get an answer from him. Here is my love to you all. From G. W. Martin
Letter 11
Camp at Budd’s Ferry, Maryland February 11th 1862
It is with great pleasure that I take my pen in hand to let you know that I received your letter that you sent by. Mr. Clark. I was glad to hear from you once more. That is the first letter I have got from you for three weeks and I was so glad to get a letter from you that I didn’t know what to do. I think you have forgot me or you would write more than you do. I have wrote six letters to you and only got one letter from you—[the one] Clark fetched me. You must write to me more than you do…
Well, dear Mother, I got the can of peaches that you sent to me by Clark and I was glad to get them. I ain’t eat them yet. When I write again, I will tell you how I liked them. Mother, I got a letter from Edward yesterday and he said he was well and hearty. I am well and hearty today and see plenty of fun. Mr. Wilcox is here now and he looks better than he ever did….It has been raining for two months here.
Mother, when you get this letter, you must write to me, I can’t think of any [more] to write till I get a letter from you. I want you to write how all of hte children is in your next letter and write me a good letter. No more at present but still remain yours, — G. W. Martin
Letter 12
May 21, 1862
Dear Mother,
I take the time to let you know that I am well at this present time and hope these few lines will find you all well and enjoying the same good health.
Well, Mother, we have got paid and Captain Lemon is coming home on a furlough and I will send you fifty dollars by him to you and when you get it, you must buy some things to eat and wear and do the best you can until I come home. I think we will be home before long. Well, I got a letter from Ed since he has been in the fight and he was well and is doing well. Well, we have got back to washing right in the city and I see the best time in the world. Well, Mother, you wanted to know where [ ] Reed was. He is here with us and he is the best friend I have got. He is well and hearty and he has got the best name of any of us. Tell Mrs. Reed that he is all right.
Well, Mother, I have wrote all I know this time. I will close. Write as soon as you get this and write and tell me how you are getting along at home and write [more] often than you do. From G. W. M.
To his dear Mother
Letter 13
May 25, 1862
Dear Mother,
I sit down to let you know that I am well at the present time and hope these few lines will find you in the same good health. Well, dear Mother, I have sent you thirty dollars by Capt. Lemon and I thought I would send more but I bought me a fine watch. I thought I ought to buy me something for I think I ought to have something to make me look like a man, don’t youy? Well, Mother, I have wrote this much, I will write something else. When you get the money, you must buy something to eat and wear and do the best you can with it and when you get this you must write and tell me if you got it.
Well, Mother, I would [have] sent more but I thought I would buy me something to wear and to look like somebody. And it won’t be long till we are paid off again and then I will send you some more. Well, I have wrote all I know this time. Write as soon as you get this and tell me how you are getting along at home. Abraham Plew is coming home and will tell you all about me. And Mother, I want you to send me two shirts by Capt. Lemon and I don’t want you to send me white shirts. Send me some checked ones and I will thank be thankful to you to get them. From G. W. M.
To his dear Mother at home.
Letter 14
May 31st, 1862
Dear Mother,
I take my pencil in hand to let you know that I am well and hearty. Well, I will tell you where we are now. We are in Virginia out ion the Rebel’s country, and they are all around us and we look every night for them to come on us. But we are all right for them and we expect to have a big fight tomorrow and we expect to go it into them like lions.
Well, Mother, I ain’t got much to write this time. I thought I would write and tell you where we was so you would bot be uneasy about me. Write as soon as you get this and when I write again, I will have something to write. And tell O[ssie] Bowright to write and tell me if he got home and if he gave you the money I sent to you. Write as soon as you get this. From G. W. M. to his Mother
Letter 15
June 5th 1862
Dear Mother,
I take the time to let you know that I am well at present and hope these few lines will find you in the same good health. I received your letter this morning and was glad to hear that you was well and hearty. Well, Mother, I will tell you where we have been. We left Washington and went into Virginia and we have traveled all over the mountains. We have been all through Virginia and now we are on the railroad at [ ] about 25 miles from Harper’s Ferry and we seen good times here.
Well, Mother, I have wrote all I know. I will close. When you get this, write and tell me if [you got the] 35 dollars that I sent to you. I would send $5 but I bought me something to wear and to look like somebody and I only sent you 35 dollars and you must not think hard of it for me not sending you more.
Well, I will close. write as soon as you get this. from G. W. M. to his dear Ma in Mt. Sterling. Goodbye till I hear from you.
Letter 16
June 28th 1862
Dear Sister,
I take the present opportunity to let you know that your dear brother, G. W. M., is well and hearty this morning and I hope these few lines will find you in the same good health.
Well, dear sister, I can’t much to write this time. I thought I would write this to you and I want you to do just what this says. When I send you some money again when Father’s old debts come, I don’t want you to pay them anymore. I wanted you to pay S.S. S. Cofield for he is all of gentleman. I think that is in Mt. Sterling. I owed him about three dollars and 90 cents I think. When you get this letter, give my best respects to Mr. Cofield and when I send you money again, I want to spend it for you and the children. Everybody that Father owed said that you paid Symes. That rotten rascal knowed you would pay them. Now if anybody else come for debts, tell them that you have quit being banker for everybody.
Dear sister, I am out here soldiering for your living and now when you get any money from me, you buy something to eat and wear for you and Mother and the children and tell the next rascal that comes to you for debts that you ain’t around. Dear sister, it hurt my feelings to hear that you had to pay every little debt that I owed and father’s too. If you ever see Walter Lock, tell him that I think he just went and stole that money as to make you pay it. When I read it, it made me so mad I could just [have] bit steel. Dear sister, don’t think hard of this. Write soon as you get this and tell me how you all are. From your dear brother, — G. W. M.
To Mary Ann
June 28, 1862
Dear Mother,
I take this time to let you know that I received your letter last night and was glad to hear from you all once more. That was the first letter I have got from you for one month and you don’t know how glad I was to hear from you all at home. Your letter found me well and hearty and enjoying myself very well and I have been all of the time. Well, dear Mother, you said you wanted to know where we was. We are in Virginia at the Junction. We have been all over Virginia. We have been over the Rappahannock River three times and have been to Harper’s Ferry once and have been to Front Royal and now we don’t know where we will go next and we have had the best time in the world. We ain’t been in a fight yet nor I don’t think we will for some time yet. We was called out in a line of battle one night and we thought that we was going to have some fun, but the rebels didn’t come and you never seen anybody so keen for a fight as the Bloody Third Indiana Cavalry was. We just think we can clean Virginia out if they will let us into them. It is given up that Capt. Lemon has the best company in the regiment. We are all brave and hearty men and don’t care for nothing. If we get hungry, we just go in a house and get something to eat. And if one of our horses gives out, we will go in someone’s stables and get the finest horse that we can find and then we are all right again.
Well, Mother, I have wrote all I know this time. I think when you get this letter, write and tell me how you all are at home. I think this war will be over before long and then I will come home. Don’t be uneasy about me for I am all right on the goose. And if you get a letter from Ed, write and tell me how he is. From your dear son, — G. W. Martin
To his dear Mother. Goodbye till I hear from you.
Letter 17
July 23, 1862
Dear Mother,
I received your letter today and I was so glad to hear from you once more. This is the first letter I have received from you for one month. I thought that you had forgot me. Your letter found me in good health and in fine spirits and enjoying myself better than I ever did in my life.
We are in Virginia yet and I expect we will stay here for some time yet—at least I think we will. Well, Mother, you wanted to know what Paul Clark come home for. Well, I don’t know. Mother, I sent you five dollars by Paul Clark when he left and you never sent me word whether he give it to you or not and when you write to me, write and tell me if he give it to you. Well, dear Mother, I got a letter from Edward t’other day and he was well and hearty. And he said the fighting was played out where he was and he said when [ ] he thought they would go to Richmond. Well, I think the fighting is about played out myself.
Well, dear Mother, when you get this letter, you must write and tell me how you all are getting along at home and tell Joseph to tell me how he is doing at home by himself. And tell Old Andy to tell me how he is and tell Darly to tell me how he is and tell all of the children to tell me how they are and you must do the best you can until I come home….— George W. Martin
Washington City, D. C. in care of Capt. Lemon, 3rd Indiana Cavalry, Co. C.
Letter 18
August 8, 1862
Dear Mother,
I received your letter last night and was glad to hear from you all. your letter found me in good health and in fine spirits.
Well. dear Mother, I will tell you what we have been doing for two weeks. We have been scouting around in Virginia for two weeks and we have been in two pretty hard fights. We was in a fight day before yesterday off and on all day. We got one man killed and several took prisoner but we held out until we shipped them out and they took three of our teams in the fight.
Well, Mother, I have told you all I know about the fight. I will tell you what I have sent to you. I have sent you forty dollars and here is an order to get the money. You take this order and go to Vevay and give it to Mr. Brimstrong and you will get the money and when you get it, you must write and tell me if you got it.
And Mother, I was glad to hear from Ed. I will write to him as soon as I can and if I hear from him before you do, I will write and tell you how he is. Well, dear Mother, I have wrote all I know this time. I will bring my letter to a close. Write as soon as you get this and tell me how you all are at home. So no more at present but still remain your dear son, — G. W. Martin
Letter 19
[Sharpsburg, Maryland] October 4, 1862
Dear Mother,
I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well at the present time and hope these few lines will find you all in the same good health ad enjoying yourselves as well as ever.
It has been a long time since I heard from you and I thought I would write you a letter today as I have nothing to do and it is a fine day. We had a nice drill this morning and a bully time last night and cut up the Devil. We charges on the Major’s tent and tore it down. We are in camp now and we are going to rest for thirty days and by that time I think we will be all right.
We have had a very hard time all summer and fall. Had no rest until now. We are in Maryland at a town called Sharpsburg about ten miles from Harpers Ferry. We have got all the rebels out of Maryland and run them to Virginia again. But now I think the rebels is about played out here and I hope everywhere else. I wish this cursed rebellion was scratch [?] for I a getting tired of it.
Well, I have wrote all I know about the war. I will write something else. When you get this letter, I want you to write me a good letter and tell me all of the news that you have at home and if you hear from Edward. You must write ad tell me how he is and Mother, we ain’t got paid off yet but will be next month and then I will send you some money and you must do the best you can until I get paid off. Write as soon as you get this. From G. W. Martin
To his dear Mother at home in Mount Sterling
Letter 20
[Falmouth, Virginia] November 24th 1862
Dear Mother,
I sit down to write you a few lines to let you know that I received your letter last night and I was so glad to hear from you and this is four letters I have received from you and I had no chance to write you until now for we have been going for one month day and night until now and we have stopped for one day or two. Your letter found me in good health and in fine spirits for a soldier and when you get this, I hope it will find you all in the same good health.
Well, dear Mother, I will tell you what we have been doing for some time. We fought the Rebels out of Maryland into Virginia and fought them from Sharpsburg to Fredericksburg in Virginia and that is about 50 miles. We fought them fifteen days right straight along and we had it up and under with them. Sometimes we would run them and sometimes they would run us but we never lost a man. We only got one wounded but we just slayed the Rebels. We killed and wounded I don’t know how many.
Pvt. William T. Holmes of Co. A 3rd Indiana Cavalry.
And now we are in camp in sight of them. They are on one side of the [Rappahannock] river and we are on the other side. We are waiting for them to fire on us and then we are going to cross the river and run them to Richmond. The talk is here now that we will go to Richmond or to Texas and we don’t know which place we will go yet. Gen. Burnside’s whole army is here and he says he will go to Richmond or lose every man he has got with him and it is a going to be a very hard time on us this winter for it is very cold here now and it is getting colder every day.
Well, Mother, I have wrote all I know about the war. I will write something else. We ain’t got paid off yet and we don’t know when we will be paid off but when we get paid, I will send you some money for I expect, dear Mother, you need some money now. And tell my friend P. Clark to let you have things and when I send you some money, you must pay him. And if you hear from Ed, you must write and tell me how he is for I ain’t heard from him for four months and I would like to hear from him.
Well, dear Mother, I have wrote all I know. I will bring my letter to a close. Write soon as you get this. From your dear son, — G. W. Martin
to his dear Mother
Letter 21
On picket on the Rappahannock River February 5, 1863
Dear Mother,
I received your letter last night and I was glad to hear from you and to hear that you all was well and hearty at present. Your letter found me in good health and in fine spirits for a soldier.
Well, Mother, I have got some good news to tell you this time. We got paid off yesterday and I am going to send you fifty dollars and dear Mother, I wish I could send you some more but I had to pay for my clothes this time and some more that I owed and I sent you all that I could. Cpt. Lemon is coming home and I am going to send it by him to you and when you get it, I want you to spend it for something to eat and to wear. And Mother, Charley Johnson is coming home with the captain and I want you to send me some shirts by C. Johnson. I told him to fetch them to me and if Ralph Cotton has got them boots done, tell him to send them to me by C. Johnson. And Mother, I would send you something but I am on picket and I can’t leave to get anything to send to you.
C. Johnson will tell you all about me. Well, dear Mother, I have wrote all I know this time. When you get this letter, I want you to send me some postage stamps. Send me twenty. That will cost 63 cents and when you get this, tell P. Clark that I received his letter and I can’t get anything to answer it. I can’t get no stamps, nor paper to write. Tell P. Clark to send me some stamps and then I will write him a good letter. We can’t get them for the money and you must send me some and then I will write to you until you get tired of it.
Well, Mother, I have wrote all I know. Write as soon as you get this. And when I get paper and stamps, I will write to Edward and if you hear from him, write and tell me how he is. From G. W. Martin
Goodbye until I hear from you.
Letter 22
On picket at Port Conway, Virginia February 9, 1863
Dear Mother,
I sit down to let you know that I am well at present and I hope this letter will find you in good health and in fine spirits at home when it comes to hand. Well, dear Mother, I wrote a letter t’other day and I thought I would write you another today, being I could do nothing else. Well, dear Mother, we have got paid off and I am going to send you fifty dollars by Capt. Lemon and when you get it I want you to get something to eat and to wear. And dear Mother, you must do the best you can until I come home. And Mother, I want you to send me twenty stamps in your next letter for I can’t get none here. And tell P. Clark to send me some stamps. Tell Paul that there is no stamps in Virginia and tell Paul if he will send me some stamps that I will be under obligation to him. And tell him to tell me who that gal is that thinks so much of me.
Mother, you must pay Paul what you owe him and then you can get things from him again. And when Capt. Lemon comes back, I want you to send me some shirts and if Ralph Cotts has got them boots done, tell him to send them to me by Capt. Lemon and that will be all right. Well, dear Mother, I have wrote all I know this time. write as soon as you get this letter and tell me the news and tell me how you all are. From G. W. Martin
Letter 23
On picket at Port Conway, [Virginia] February 14, 1863
Dear Sister,
I take mt pen in [hand] to let you know that I am well at present and enjoying myself very well for a soldier and I hope when you get this, it will find you enjoying yourself as well as I am.
Dear sister, I received your letter this morning and was glad to hear from you all and hear that you was doing so well. I have not much to write you this time. You wanted to know if I had heard from Edward. Well, I have not heard from him yet and I wrote to him two letters and got no answer yet and if you hear from him, write and tell me where he is and if I hear from him, I will write and tell you how he is.
Dear sister, if you know anything about Borden Wilcox, write and tell me for I would like to hear from him and if you know where he is, write and tell me…. Send me some stamps for I can get any here and I had to send a letter without a stamp on it and I send you this letter and mother one in this envelope… From G. W. Martin
Letter 24
Camp 15 miles from the Knowledge of God March 2, 1863
Dear Mother,
I received your letter today and it was read with great pleasure. Your letter found me in good health and in fine spirits for a soldier. I have wrote you four letters and this is the first one I have received from you and I was glad to get a letter from you and I got a letter from Edward this morning and he was well and hearty.
Well, Mother, I have not much to write this time. I will tell you what a hard march we had t’other day after Old Stewart’s Cavalry. They came over the river and took some of our pickets and we was called out at three o’clock in the morning to catch him and it was raining and the snow was about one foot deep and we was gone two days and nights and it rained all of the time we was gone and we didn’t see a rebel while we was gone and we had all of our hard march for nothing. And the roads was belly deep to our horses all of the way there and back. And now we are are in camp and all of the boys in good health and in fine spirits.
Well Mother, I have wrote all I know. I will write something else. Mother, Charles Johnson is coming home on a furlough and I want you to send me some shirts by him to me and be sure and do it. And Mother, I have got fifty dollars to send you the first chance I get. I would a sent it by Johnson but the Captain had it and he was not here and the first chance I get I will send it to you… Tell Josepg I would like to get a letter from him and when you get this, tell Mr. Cotton to send me a pair of boots by Johnson and when I get there, I will send him the money for them…
Well, dear Mother, I will close this short letter. Write as soon as you get it. From G. W. Martin to Mother and children at home
Letter 25
Camp near Stafford Court House in Virginia April 18, 1863
Dear Mother,
I received your kind and welcome [letter] this evening and it was read with great pleasure and I was so glad to hear from you for this is the only letter I have got from you for 10 days and I was glad to hear that you all was well. Your letter found me in good health and enjoying myself. We have been on picket for ten days and we had everything that we wanted. We had chickens, eggs, and cornbread and ham, and everything that we wanted. We had a fine time and now we are back in our old camp and we will see a good time, I think.
Well, Mother, we are going to leave this place in the morning and cross the Rappahannock River and go it right into the rebels and I think the hair will slip for there is a big force over the river of them. All of the army here is going. I think we will see Richmond this summer if we have the good luck to live and I hope we will. This summer is the time to whip them out or we never will in this world. I am willing to risk my life with them once more and don’t think there is a man in the Army of the Potomac but what is ready to fight for their country at any time.
Well, Mother, I have wrote all I know this time. It may be some ime before I hear from you again but write often and tell me how you all are at home. We was going to be paid this week but now I don’t know when we will be paid. Tell Paul C. to let you have what you want and when I get paid, I will send him the money.
But it is getting late and I am sleepy and I will have to close. Write as soon as you get this and tell me all of the news. From G. W. Martin
to dear Mother and children at home in Mt. Sterling
Letter 26
Camp near Rappahannock Station in old Virginia August 19, 1863
Dear Mother,
I received your kind and interesting letter today and was glad to hear from you. Your letter found me in good health and in fine spirits for the times here. Well, dear Mother, I have nothing to write that would interest you. You say that Edward is well and hearty. Well I am glad to hear that for I thought he was dead for I have not got a letter from him for three months and I had just give him up. And you say you want me to send you some money to buy you a stove. Well, I will send you some money to buy you a stove before the cold weather sets in and we are going to be paid in a few days and I will send you some money to buyt your winter clothes ad it won’t be long until I will be at home and then I will know what to do. I wish this war was over so I could come home and stay with you all of the time.
Well, dear Mother, I have wrote all I know. I will close. Write soon and tell me all of the news. From — G. W. Martin
To dear Mother at home. Goodbye until I hear from you.
Letter 27
[Editor’s note: The following letter was written by Ed Kelso at the request of George Martin. George’s muster rolls indicate he was ill in December 1863 and he may have not been up to writing but didn’t want his mother to worry about him. Edward Kelso later died in Andersonville Prison as well.]
Camp 3rd Indiana Cavalry Culpeper C. H., Va. December 21st 1863
Dear Mother,
I received a letter from you on the 19th inst. and was truly glad to hear from you. In answer I hardly know what to write. No news here of any interest. Our regiment are putting up “log shanties” for the winter. Our only duty is picket and camp guard. We are four days on picket and 8 days in camp. In this way we expect to pass the winter. The rebs are picketing on the south side of the Rapidan River and only six hundred yards from our picket line.
The health of the regiment is good. I sent you $20 by Abe Plew. He started home day before yesterday. It is very cold here now and getting colder. Was paid off day before Abe Plew started home. I can’t think of anything more to write just now. My health continues good and I hope these lines ,ay find you the same. Remember me to all enquiring friends. Please write again soon and give me the news generally. Ed Kelso (the writer) send his compliments and best respects to all. No more. Your affectionate son, &c. — George
To Mrs. Frances Martin
Letter 28
Camp near Culpeper, Va. January 18, 1863 [should be 1864]
Dear Mother,
I sit down to let you know that I am well and hearty and hope these few lines will find you enjoying the same good health. It has been a long time since I heard from you and that I thought it was would write and see what is the reason you don’t write to me. Two letters is all I have got from you this winter and I would like to know the reason you don’t write to me more than you do. Dear Mother, you have no idea how glad I am to get a letter from any of the family. I have been from home two long years and a half in this tarnation rebellion and it is not settled yet and if our men don’t turn out this spring and help us, we are gone forever and ever. I have been in the service long enough to have my eyes opened and before I will see the Rebels gain their independence and see all of the niggers freed, I will see the last drop of my blood fall from my body. I am a true Union man and will die in the cause before I will suffer to see those things come to pass.
Dear Mother, I dreamed of being at home last night and we all had a gay time. I think it won’t be long until I will come home and Mother, you must not think hard of this letter for every word in it is so and when you get it, I want you to write and tell me how Joseph is and if you hear from Edward. Write and tell me how he is getting along and tell me what is the reason they don’t write to me. And write and tell me how Andy and William is for I dreamed of them last night and I believe they saw something the matter with you all or you would write more than you do. Well, dear Mother, I have wrote all I know. I will close by saying you must write as soon as you get this. From your son, — George W. Martin
The following letters were written by Lewis Burwell Hutchinson (1832-1910), the son of Rev. Eleazer Carter Hutchinson (1804-1876) and Lucy Burwell Randolph (1809-1877). According to his biography on Find-A-Grave, Lewis’s father was one of the pioneers of Episcopalianism in Missouri. He was the rector of the Trinity Protestant Episcopal Church in St. Louis. He was married to Lucy Burwell Randolph, daughter of Archibald Cary Randolph and Lucy Burwell, who was the daughter of Nathaniel Burwell of Clarke County, Virginia.
I could not find a biographical sketch for Lewis but I was able to cobble together the following from census and family records, school and military records, all available on the internet. The first notice of him was in 1843 when only eleven years; he was enumerated as a student in the preparatory department of Kemper College near St. Louis. The next notice of him was his attendance from 1846 to 1848 at Norwich University in Northfield, Vermont. While at student at Norwich, in March 1849, he was nominated by the Missouri House of Representative J. B. Bowlin for an appointment to West Point but he was not admitted and continued with his studies at Norwich. In 1852 he was listed among the Sophomores at the College of New Jersey (Princeton). I can’t find any evidence that he graduated from Princeton.
It appears that Lewis was swept up in the Pike’s Peak Gold Rush of 1859 and traveled overland with a company from Des Moines, Iowa, who panned for gold together in the Pike’s Peak region and later along the waters of the Big Blue in the South Park region (see Letter 1). He apparently returned in the late summer of 1860 for he was married on 4 October 1860 to Elizabeth (“Libbie” or “Lib”) E. Gearhart (b. 1841), the daughter of George Gearhart (1806-1894) of Dodgeville, Des Moines county, Iowa. Lewis and Libbie’s only child, Augustus (“Gussie”) Carter Hutchinson was born on 14 August 1861 in Iowa, but by this time, however, the Civil War had begun and Lewis had left home to volunteer as a 1st Sergeant in Co. F, 1st Missouri (Confederate) Infantry. His muster rolls state that he was a Civil Engineer in St. Louis prior to his joining the Missouri Infantry. He was breveted a 2nd Lieutenant’s commission (by election) in May 1862. His record shows him to have participated in the battles of Shiloh, Corinth, Tuscumbia river, Grand Gulf, Port Gibson, Baker’s Creek, and Big Black.
Lewis endured the siege and was among the troops surrendered by General Pemberton at Vicksburg on July 4, 1863. The overwhelming number of prisoners of war surrendered at Vicksburg compelled Grant to implement a different treatment approach compared to those captured elsewhere. Rather than transferring them to Northern POW camps, Grant paroled the POWs at Vicksburg, allowing them to return home unarmed for a period of 30 days. After this timeframe, they were obligated to report to camps in their respective states and pledge not to reengage in combat against the United States until their exchange. Many Confederates, disillusioned by the war and plagued by declining morale, seized this opportunity to evade further military obligations. In Hutchinson’s case, his Muster Roll indicates that he was marked absent without leave since September 27, 1863. He departed from his command at Demopolis, Alabama, and was “last heard from in St. Louis.” Another document in his file asserts that he deserted on August 20, 1863. An undated record states that he was “reduced to the ranks for bad conduct,” potentially occurring after his desertion. The final official entry on his muster roll notes that he was “dropped by order of Secretary of War, January 27, 1864.”
Before concluding the biographical sketch of Lewis, I should here mention that he had two brothers who also served with him in the 1st Missouri (confederate) Infantry. Lewis’ younger brother, Robert Randolph (“Ran” or “Ranny”) Hutchinson, joined the 1st Missouri Infantry as Colonel John Bowen’s AAG. After Bowen’s death, Hutchinson transferred to the Army of Northern Virginia where he took a similar position under General Robert Rodes. He fought in all the army’s battles until his capture at the Battle of Cedar Creek. After his release as a prisoner, he returned to St. Louis. Prohibited from serving as a lawyer in Missouri by the postwar administration, he started a new career as a banker, working his way from cashier to president of the Mechanics Bank of St. Louis. The other brother, Virginius “Cary” Hutchinson (1843-1863) enlisted as private in Co. F of the 1st Missouri Infantry in 1862 but the muster rolls for January through June 1863 show that Cary was on detached service. He was employed on extra duty at Bowen’s Division Headquarters, on order of General Bowen, as a clerk for the A.A.G. The A.A.G. of Bowen’s Division was Cary’s brother, Robert Hutchinson. Cary died from “congestion of the brain.” He was initially interred at Cedar Hill Cemetery in Vicksburg. He was removed, returned to St. Louis, and interred at Bellefontaine on August 28, 1863.
To resume with Lewis’s biographical sketch, following his desertion from the Rebel army in Demopolis, Alabama, there exists a theory suggesting he attempted to reunite with his parents and/or wife in Missouri or Iowa, only to be captured and subsequently transported to Fort McHenry or Point of Rocks in Maryland. It is there that he purportedly took the Oath of Allegiance and enlisted in the Navy, although I have been unable to locate any concrete records to substantiate this claim. Another theory posits that he secretly engaged in what is now referred to as the “Chesapeake Affair” in December 1863, an incident that significantly strained US-British relations. Lewis’s letter dated 24 December 1863 (Letter 5) appears to lend some credence to this assertion; however, he provides scant detail, merely stating, “We are not allowed to tell of our whereabouts so that must be left to your own imagination and what you can gather from the newspapers. I suppose you heard of the affair of the ‘Chesapeake.’ If so, you need not be alarmed for I am safe and well.” What is definitively known is that, under “Maryland soldiers in the Civil War,” Lewis Hutchinson is recorded as having enlisted as an Ordinary Seaman on 23 June 1864, mustering out on 21 June 1865, and serving aboard the USS Princeton and the USS Juniata.
In the letters that Lewis composed to his wife from aboard the USS Juniata in the war’s final year, he implored her repeatedly for forgiveness regarding his wayward behavior. “I recognize that I have not treated you as I ought to have, and during the solitary hours of my nighttime watch, thoughts of you flood my mind, and I have profoundly regretted the decisions I made in life and my treatment of you,” he expressed. He attributed some of his lamentable actions to intemperance. A reconciliation appeared conceivable—Lewis yearned for it—but reading between the lines reveals that the bonds of affection may have been strained beyond mending during their prolonged separation, leading Libbie to rely on her relatives in Dodgeville for support. It surely vexed Lewis to learn that his 3-year-old son wished to travel to Dixie to kill Rebels.
Reconciliation failed. In the 1870 US Census, 29-year-old Libbie was recorded in her father’s household in Osceola, Clarke County, Iowa, alongside her 8-year-old son, Carter. A decade later, she was documented in her own residence in Osceola, with her 18-year-old son, identified as “widowed,” despite the fact that Lewis was alive and residing in Yalobusha County, Mississippi. The official status of Lewis and Libbie’s marriage remains ambiguous, as I have been unable to locate any record of divorce. It appears that when reconciliation was deemed impossible, Lewis chose to abandon Libbie, moving to Yalobusha County, Mississippi, where he subsequently married Adeline Kincaid Hughes (b. 1837). Together, they had at least two children: William Wright Talcott Hutchinson (b. 1868) and Charles Lewis Randolph Hutchinson (1873-1937). On March 7, 1883, Lewis was appointed as the U.S. Postmaster at Hatton, Yalobusha County, Mississippi. The 1900 US Census lists Lewis (age 67) residing in Beat 4, Yalobusha County, Mississippi, where he was employed as a bookkeeper. In the 1910 US Census, shortly before his death, Lewis was recorded living in Yalobusha, Mississippi, in the household of his son Charles.
Letter 1
“Golden Run Diggings” June 19th 1860
I will again intrude upon you dearest with one of my uninteresting scrawls. I am now on the western slope of the mountains having left “Tarryall” some two weeks since. Golden Run is a small stream emptying into Blue River which is one of the tributaries of the great Colorado of the West. We have purchased the claim upon which we now are at work and are at work “prospecting” it; as yet our show is dull enough but with strong hands and willing hearts we hope at least to accomplish something. This is about all that I can tell you in reference to my whereabouts and doings but it was not for this purpose that i intended to write to you so soon after my last—especially as one letter is all you have designed to honor me with.
Friday, 22nd. Business compelled me dearest to lay down my pen on Tuesday last and sickness prevented my resuming it until today and even now I am hardly able to write. But I wish to send this letter by an early opportunity to Denver so I will proceed with it. What I wished to tell you particularly is that D. Gillett has left our company and started for the States and as he and I have had several difficulties (about which I can tell you I hope at some future time) and not having parted the best of friends, also knowing him to be a man that would stop at nothing to [illegible] any scheme of petty revenge, I thought it better to tell you of this in time so that being forewarned you may be forearmed. I will only say that anything coming from a man whose conduct on the road has rendered him only fit to be the husband of a ____ the least of whose sins has been to try and pass himself for a single man with young women and trying to defraud a poor woman of her money for washing by running away. These are only an item on the Bill we have against him. Of the rest, I had rather tell you than write. Reemes, Lyons & Co. have also started homeward and in reference to them—that is, the two named, with the exception of dishonesty, their conduct has been little short of that of Gillett’s, the scarcity of gold in the country not being the main reason of their return home. At any rate, I would scarce believe them and am certain that I never would introduce [them] into my Father’s house.
You see, dearest Lib, that I have written plainly and frankly because I felt it my duty so to do fearing that they might to clear themselves try and implicate others. As for myself, I have endeavored to keep myself worthy of the heart that trusts in one andn have been guilty of nothing that I am ashamed to tell you of face to face. Thus should ought be said the cause is in your hands. Will you believe the reports of such men or will you still believe and trust me? for I have written nothing but that I can prove by the mouth of a score of men. Do not say that I am not altogether innocent or I would not seek to justify that which I know not of. The experience of the past in Des Moines County has learned me always to keep my sword by my side ready at all times for instant combat not with open enemies but midnight assassins. And from the tenor of your letter I find that I cannot even now lay aside my armor nor do I claim total immunity from all sin. I will now drop this subject only asking you to judge of me as you know me—not as every would be meddler would have me to be.
Everything here is so dirty that it is an impossibility to keep a sheet of paper clean and if you had any experience in camp life, you would readily excuse all uncleanness and rather wonder how I could get along so well. I am again alone in camp and my thoughts are constantly wandering back to you. Bye the bye, I must thank you a thousand ties for a pleasant surprise I had yesterday which was finding that lock of hair in the back of your likeness making only a stronger link to bind my heart to you that distance can neither bend or break.
Since Tuesday evening I have been quite unwell with a fever but am now so far convalescent as to be about although quite weak. The fancies and dreams of a sick person are sometimes so strange that I cannot refrain from telling you two of mine during my illness. The first was that I had returned and that you treated me so coldly that I could bear it no longer so rising, I threw at your feet a bag of gold saying “it was for you alone that I endured the hardships of a life in the mountains—for you that I toiled in the muddy ditch day after day of weary existence—and this is now by recompense? Take the result of my labors—it is yours, for thoughts of you alone made labor bearable. Take it and enjoy it above the ruins of a broken heart, nor ever let one thought of what I will be ever disturb you.” Will this ever be a fearful truth? I pass it over, dearest, as only the vain dream of a sick man.
The other was more singular and is as vividly impressed upon my mind as with letters of fire. I thought that I lay among many other men, none of whose faces I could recognize. White exhalations twisted and curled up stealthily from the ground, approached the men, touched them, and stretched them out dead, one by one in the places where they lay. Then I thought I heard your voice in agony calling me to escape. “Remember your promise to me. Come back before the pestilence reaches you and lays you dead like the rest!” My reply was “Wait! I shall come back. The night that recorded our oath in Heaven was the night that set my life apart for an [illegible] or there welcomed back in the land of my birth. I am still walking on that road that leads me to your love. The pestilence which touches the rest will pass me.” Again I was in the forest and the figures of dark men lurked behind the trees with bows in their hands and arrows fitted to the strings. Once more you cried out, “Another stop on the road.” I answered, “The arrows that strike the rest will spare me.” For the last time I saw myself kneeling by a tomb of white marble and the shadow of a veiled woman rose out of the grave and waited by my side. I could hear myself say, “Darker and darker, farther and farther yet. Death takes the good, the beautiful, and spares me. The pestilence that wastes, the arrow that strikes, the grave that closes over love and hope are steps of my journey and take me nearer and nearer to the end.”
I then awoke in agony of mind only to find myself almost in a delirium of fever. I have not written these to frighten you but only as singular specimens of the vagaries of mind acted upon by disease of the body. Now Lib, I will give you the news.
Our prospects are much brighter than when I commenced that letter—so much so that I may be back sooner than I had dared to anticipate. In my next, I will give you a full account of our gains and losses. We are now in Utah Territory!!! What a glorious chance to turn Mormon and as we have not caught a glimpse of a young lady’s dress since leaving the Missouri River, don’t you think in Brigham Young and a committee of ladies from Salt Lake should make their appearance among us that we would be made proselytes of whether or no?
Now hold your breath for a minute for I have something to tell you that may not only make you but a score of young ladies in Des Moines scream with joy. Well, here it is. Charlie Kline is well and working only a mile and a half from here. My dearest friend (you know how) Frank Clark is on the same gulch with us only a half mile from our claim. We are of course very intimate. Nearly all the refugees from Des Moines are on this gulch and it makes it decidedly pleasant, I can assure you. I have just learned that there is a letter for me in Tarryall which I expect tomorrow and I am praying that it may be from you. Until I receive it, I will leave this open. Do write soon to me, Lib, and remember that there there is a heart [illegible] than that of your devoted Lewis, Goodbye.
A undated letter containing prose that Lewis sent to Libbie from Pike’s Peak in 1860.
Letter 2
“Camp Calhoun” Near Memphis, Tennessee July 22nd 1861
My dearest and beloved wife,
I have written to you several times but have received not one word from you I presume that all my letters and yours have been stopped as contraband articles of war. There is a young man just on his way to St. Louis by whom I am going to send this and I pray God that you may receive it. My dearest Lib, you know not how often I dream about you and you are indeed the constant companion of my thoughts. Ever since I have been in the South, the camp has been my home and the boom of the cannon and the rattle of musketry are more familiar sounds to me than the soft notes of woman’s voice.
Dearest, I am an officer in Company F, 1st Regiment of Missouri Volunteers and am in the service of our glorious Confederacy for one year. I would give my little remnant of life to see you once more and I hope to be able before many months to do so when we shall have driven the foul invader from the soil of Missouri but I will not conceal the fact from you that we expect to have some hard and bloody fighting to do before that can be accomplished. Yet dearest, I may come out unscathed, but if it please God to order it otherwise, at least I will have the proud consciousness that I fell in a holy cause. It is better now that you did not accompany me as camp is no place for woman and as we are constantly on the move, but just so soon as we get into Missouri, I will do all in my power to have you brought to me—that is, if you will come. We expect to march into Missouri shortly and will endeavor to force our way, driving the enemy before us.
Lib, I will not conceal from you that in less than three weeks I may be in the midst of battle, yet I do not fear to fall. I feel as if you were a protecting angel to me and that we will once more be restored to each other’s arms—at least let us pray God that such will be the case. Do not, my dearest, indulge in any gloomy apprehensions, but think that all will yet be well; that Heaven is on this side I have embraced and if I fall, it will be as a glorious martyr. When I think of the wrongs that had been inflicted upon us—nay, ever heaped up, and of the unprovoked massacres that have occurred in St. Louis, I fairly pine to be on the battlefield. But enough of this.
Dearest, you must write directing to Father who will send your letter by some private conveyance as soon as you get this for I do so long to hear from you. I am so lonely. You must write me a long letter all about yourself and about one thing I am particularly anxious to know, then my wife tell me whether your fears in reference to becoming a Mother are to be realized or not? Dearest. I have saved up over a hundred dollars that I want to send to you but I know not how to do it. As soon as I find an opportunity, I will send it, but everything is so uncertain. Lib, I want you to send me that likeness I carried to Pike’s Peak with me. Wishing that God will bless, comfort, and protect you, my dearest wife, I must bid you goodbye dearest and best beloved. If we meet not on earth, let us meet in Heaven. Your husband.
Letter 3
“Camp Rogers” December 28th 1862
I am still, my dearest wife, in the same camp that we were when Mother left but the ominous order to have “three days rations cooked and forty rounds of cartridges distributed to each man” came yesterday so we are now liable to move at any minute. I know not whether I shall find an opportunity soon of sending this epistle, but as there is no telling when we may be settled again for a sufficient length of time to write, I am writing now trusting to fortune for an opportunity. Our prospects look so bright now that it almost seems as if this war will soon be terminated.
The Grand Army of the Potomac has been terribly defeated [at Fredericksburg], our troops are driving everything before them in Tennessee and I only think that it remains for us to repulse the enemy before us to bring on a glorious peace. Should the news soon arrive of a battle at Vicksburg, Mississippi, I will be there and trust that I may escape as hitherto unscathed. I am firmly of the opinion that it will be the last battle of the war and on that account shall enter into it with more reluctance than heretofore. Still I shall try and do my duty trusting to a kind Providence to preserve me from all harm.
It has seemed to me almost doubly lonesome since Mother left although we have had a good deal to occupy our time. The day before Christmas we marched to Grenada (twelve miles) & were reviewed there by President Jefferson Davis and General Joe Johnston. Jeff Davis, whom I reckon you think to be almost next in kin to the Arch Fiend, is really a splendid looking man—just the one to be in the position he now holds as the head and Father of a new nation. He is beloved by the whole army and the people of the Southern Confederacy (one of which number I hope soon to see you) almost worship him.
We arrived in camp on the following morning and found a rousing dinner all ready for us which was given by the officers of our regiment to quite a number of guests and which all seemed to enjoy very much. I participated somewhat is the festivities but did not enjoy myself or at least could not give way to that abandon that most did not account of thoughts of the absent dear ones whose smiles could not lend the joyous influence necessary for the full enjoyment of such a time. Oh how I hope and pray that next Christmas will see us united and honorable peace restored so that we can live together undisturbed and in the enjoyment of our new home and fireside.
I am going to try and get this letter off tomorrow so I must close it right soon. You must try, my dear Lib, to keep up a good heart until I see you next spring for if I survive the next great battle, we will certainly meet before long. How will you like the idea of coming to Dixie to live? How is our boy? Does he grow fast? Who does he resemble and can he talk yet? How I long to see him. Send me a lock of his hair, can’t you? As soon as I can, I will write to you again assuring you of my safety. Farewell and God bless you my dearest wife and child (kiss him for me) and may we soon meet is the fervent prayer of — Lewis
Letter 4
Camp near Grenada, Mississippi January 4, 1863
“It never rains but it pours” is an old adage which seems, my dearest wife, to be about fulfilled in my soon getting another opportunity of writing to you for this makes the second letter that I have sent since Mother left us. I am still at the same place as we were when she left but it is very uncertain when we shall leave, so much so now that I can scarcely conjecture anything about it. There may such a thing happen that we may not move our quarters this winter. If so, I will be present at the Vicksburg fight. Everything yet seems bright and looks somewhat to a restoration of peace, not a restoration of the Union for that is simply impossible. Why do the noble states of the Northwest cling to that miserable fabric which New England calls a Union, and carry on a war which brings them nothing but mourning, tending only to [ ] New England men. The Mississippi river would be opened again for commerce as usual and is not the South the only true market the West has for its products? As for subjugation, it is impossible. The South must be annihilated; it can never be subjugated.
Yesterday it rained all day and we amused ourselves making sausage meat and rendering out lard in all of which we succeeded admirably. Today the sun is out and it is just like a spring morning. Dearest, how much I wish you were down here for you would enjoy this weather so much. It would just suit you for I know how averse to are to cold. It seldom snows here. In fact, I have not seen any snow this winter and I have been very comfortable at night under two blankets. Would not that suit you? for well do I remember how I used to laugh at you for being so cold-blooded. Well, it shall not be long, Providence permitting, before you shall have a home in this sunny clime where everything is so beautiful—the forests and fields being clothed in living green the year round.
Another reason, dearest, is that I want our boy to be a Southerner, at least by education, and he can have it as a proud boast that his Father shared in the toils and dangers of those who achieved their country’s liberty. If I survive, how proud will It make me to think that I was one of those who on the first call of their country was found in the ranks. But enough of this. Let us hope that the time will soon come when we can talk face to face.
This is Sunday morning and the drum has just beat for inspection so I must close for a short time. It does seem to me that peace must be made before long and I pray for it oh how fervently for I want to be with you to show you, my dear, that I have never ceased to love you and to repay you for this long and cruel separation. This is the only and truest wish of my heart. God grant it may be realized. How fondly does my heart yearn towards my boy. Would that I could see him and be a Father not only in name but in deed. Kiss him for me and may God bless and protect you both. Every pray your fondly attached husband, — Lewis
Answer this as soon as you receive it as the bearer will bring letters back.
Letter 5
December 24, 1863
Dearest Lib,
As I have a chance of writing again, it would be remiss in me not to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. We are not allowed to tell of our whereabouts so that must be left to your own imagination and what you can gather from the newspapers. I suppose you heard of the affair of the “Chesapeake.” If so, you need not be alarmed for I am safe and well. I cannot tell you now where to direct but expect to have a chance in a few weeks—not only to write, but to receive letters. This will be mailed by a friend. I have only written to let you know that I am in excellent health, not having been sick an hour since I left. I will write again soon and I hope to be able to send you some substantive aid. I wish I could be more explicit. My best love to Father, Mother, and Mary. Kiss Gussie for me. Goodbye as ever. Your husband, — Lewis
Did you get the photographs?
Letter 6
Off Fort Fisher, North Carolina January 16th 1864
My dear Father,
I only write to tell you that I am safe and unharmed. You will get the particulars as soon as I have time. I have only five minutes to spare. Affectionately your son, — Lewis
Fort Fisher has fallen. Please write to Lizzie.
Letter 7
February 1, 1864
A fine opportunity now presenting itself of sending a few lines to you, my dearest Lib, has determined me upon availing myself of it to assure you that I am not only in the land of the living, but in good health. I inclose you a check for twenty-five dollars which will be made payable to Father. I have done this so as to cause you no trouble about going to the Banking Houses. Small as the sum is, I hope you will not despise it, but accept as an earnest that I have at last awakened to a sense of my duty. I would like to send you more but I can assure you that there is more than two-thirds of all that I have. However, I shall send you more as soon as I am able.
I hope that you are still in St. Louis as I think it so much better for Gussie to be there and also yourself. Not a single letter have I received since I left home. This I can’t account for as I have written and rewritten. You must write as soon as you receive this directing to simply Lewis Hutchinsonm the place to write to will be wherever this letter is mailed as an answer will be waited for & forwarded to me as soon as received.
When you write you must tell me everything—all about yourself and Gussie. Everything will be of interest to one who has been so long cut off from any communication with the loved ones at home.
I am not doing as well as I hoped but still am doing something and hope soon to do better. It may be that in a couple of months or so I will be somewhat nearer you than I now am. I have already said all that I can so I will close. My best love to Father, Mother, and Mary. Kiss Gussie for me. I wish I could do it myself. Goodbye my dearest Lib and believe me ever to be your affectionate husband, — Lewis
Letter 8
Addressed to Mrs. L. B. Hutchinson, St. Louis, Missouri, Care of Rev. E. C. Hutchinson
U. S. Steamer “Juniata” August 22, 1864
I was very much surprised and disappointed in not receiving any answer to my letter on my return from a week’s cruise day before yesterday. I wrote you a long letter some time ago, my dearest Lib, telling you where I was and what doing, and have also written to Father & Mother but have received no answer a yet. What is the reason that you don’t write? I told you in my letter that you must be certain to write to the Navy Agent in Philadelphia and draw my half pay which certainly is not much but it is all I have at present.
In case you did not receive my letter, I will repeat that you write a letter to the Navy Agent, Philadelphia, stating that you are my wife by whom I left my half to be drawn and he will let you know how it is to be done. I am expecting a few dollars and should it arrive before I leave, I will send it to you. Did you receive the fifty dollars sent more than two months ago? I am quite anxious to hear in reference to it.
We will probably sail in a few hours for a cruise of eight or ten days and then return here to fit out for Europe and I do hope and pray that there may be some news from home for me. I hope, my dear wife, that you are in good health and spirits adn that you find in Carter a great comfort & solace. Kiss the dear boy for me and tell him he must be obedient to his Mother and Grandparents and not forget his Father. Love to Father and Mother and thank them for their kind care of you and Carter. Tell them I will write again in a few days. Love to Mary adn last but not least I want you to write me a long letter telling me about everything that has and is occurring. Goodbye my dearest wife, your affectionate husband, — Lewis
USS Juniata
Letter 9
U. S. Steamer “Juniata“ Fortress Monroe, Va. August 26th 1864
My dear Parents,
I cannot leave this country on a long an maybe dangerous cruise without writing again to you, although I have written so often lately not only to you but to Lizzie and have received no answer that I almost despair of ever hearing again. When we were at sea, often during my lonely watch on deck, have the events of my past life crowded through my thoughts and I have seen them in all their enormity and shuddered to think how guilty I had been. Can you my parents for give me for the many griefs I have caused you and for the many bitter tears I know my Mother has shed for me? Better would it have been had I died in my infancy. The demon of intemperance has been at the bottom of it all, but now it has no charms for me. I have utterly and entirely forsworn the cup and I draw my dollar and a half monthly instead of the grog ration. What I have been doing since I left home I would rather tell you if we ever meet again than to write it as I much fear my letters do not always get into the right hands.
The ship will more than probably leave here this week for a cruise around the European shores and may go to China. Thus you see I may be absent for nearly two years and I think it is better so. The crew are of the better class of men, most of them Southern sympathizers who have taken this method to avoid the draft into the Army. The discipline is very strict and there is generally plenty to do. From where we are laying, I can see the spires of Norfolk and I have seen the skeleton of the Cumberland as she lays off the Navy Yard. How forcibly every day these sights remind me of Talcott and I wish that I could have been what he was—the soul of honor and courage. I cannot be too thankful to you for your kind care of Lizzie and Carter and hope that you will still look after their welfare until my time of probation is up when I hope to return a wiser, better & steadier man.
Forgive me for all my wrong doings. Write to me and give me words of encouragement to lighten my dark path and if I am wrong in being where I am, it was almost starvation that drove me here. Write to me often and direct to this steamer, Washington D. C., and the letters will find me. Please send me a paper occasionally. Oh how I long to hear from the dear ones at home. [Brother] Ran[dolph] I have heard nothing about for some time. I have but little more time to write as our mail is nearly ready to go ashore.
Tell Lizzie that I will try and send her a few lines tomorrow or next day. A kiss for Mary. Carter, I hope, is behaving himself and is doing well. Mother must kiss him for me. Goodbye my dearest parents and do write soon to your affectionate son, — Lewis
Letter 10
U. S. Steamer “Juniata“ Fortress Monroe, Va. October 5th 1864
We arrived here only last night from a fourteen days cruise in search of blockade runners and you can hardly imagine, my dearest Lib, my disappointment and astonishment when on the mail bag being opened, there was no letter from you. Lizzie, this is very strange and to me unaccountable. If you have determined not to write to me, I think you might inform me of the fact so as at least to rid me of this longing and expectation. Lib, my dear wife, I know that I have not done by you as I should and during the hours of my lonely watch during the hours of the night, have thoughts of you come crowding through my mind and deeply have I regretted my course in life and my conduct towards you and with God’s help, I have determined to do better. Now dearest, don’t dampen my good resolutions by your silence leading me to think that you are trying to blot me from your memory. Heaven send that this is not the case as I do love you from the bottom of my heart of hearts.
We cruised around the ocean and picked up a cotton bale that had been in all probability thrown from a blockade runner which was chased. This was the result of all our labor. We encountered one pretty severe gale which lasted about twenty-four hours and the next morning when I came on deck, I was surprised to hear the twitter of birds and on looking up in the rigging, saw a large number of shore birds that had ben blown off and taken refuge on board with us. No one would harm them but the poor little fellows died one by one either from fright or exhaustion.
I hope and pray that the War is nearly over so that I can settle down somewhere never to move again. Politics do not trouble us much but we are pretty generally in favor of McClellan. I hope you get the half pay regularly. It is little, I know, but all that I can at present do. It is reported on board that we are to go to Wilmington, North Carolina, where there is a very severe battle expected and I may not get another chance to write before I go. So if anything happens to me, you will at least have heard from me whilst I was still unhurt.
And now how is my dear boy? Is he well? and does he grow both in mind and body? Oh how I long to see him and hear his sweet prattle again. Heaven bless and preserve him and make him a better man than his Father. Now, my dear wife, I must close my letter for I can say no more. If you would only write, I would in all probability write a longer letter but this one sided correspondence is very hard to sustain. I only beg that if you do not intend to write to me or if my letters are a nuisance that you would tell me so and then I would know how to act. Relieve me from this suspense, I beg of you. Goodbye my dear Lib. May God help and protect you and my boy and may we all be restored to one another and happier days. Kiss Gussie for me and do write soon. Direct as this letter is headed. Every your fondly attached husband, — Lewis
Letter 11
U. S. Steamer “Juniata“ Fortress Monroe November 6th 1864
You cannot imagine my dearest Lizzie with what feelings of delight that I perused your long expected letter which arrived yesterday. Indeed, I had given up all idea of ever hearing from you personally again on account of your long silence. But now the ice is broken, let it not freeze up again but write to me regularly at least once every two weeks at any rate. I shall expect to hear from you that often.
“Business before pleasure” is an old motto so I will commence with that. I saw the paymaster of our ship yesterday and he told me that he had orders to stop all half pay allowances until the men were out of debt. You see we had to draw a large lot of clothing for sea service which is charged against us. Well, I drew the whole amount at once thinking that I would work it out by half pay but it seems that it is different. The half pay allotment will continue again the first of next January when you will receive it regularly as I have clothes sufficient to last some time and what I am compelled to draw will not amount to much. You must not think that I am extravagant for really and truly I have not had a dollar in my pocket for more htan two months.
We are still lying at Fortress Monroe but expect to sail this week for the place I have mentioned before. I do wish it was over for really I don’t want to go at all but hope and pray that I may be spared yet a little longer. So Gussie says he is a “good Union boy?” Bless his sweet little mouth. I wish I could kiss him and his Ma too. I suppose he does not remember me at all or if he does, it is only a very faint idea of who I am. You ask me dearest if I am very hungry. I can answer yes—very often, for sea fare is very rough and I often long for a good shore meal. But I will not repine but try and bear up as best I may. Won’t it be a blessed thing if this winter should end the war and I could come home again in the spring. You know not how I wish that I could be with you. Well, I have no more to say—only to beg of you to write to me frequently. Kiss Gussie for me and may Heaven bless you both, my dearest wife. Goodbye. Ever your affectionate husband, — Lewis
Direct to U. S. Sloop of War “Juniata”—not “Juricata”. Fortress Monroe, Va., or elsewhere.
November 9th. Your letter of the 5th has just been received which I will answer soon.
Letter 12
Addressed to Mrs. L. B. Hutchinson, Dodgeville, Des Moines County, Iowa
U. S. Steamer “Juniata“ Fortress Monroe, Va. November 20th 1864
I have sat down to write you my weekly letter, my dear wife, to let you know that I am still in the land of the living. You see that i am still at the old anchorage and from all indications am pretty certain that it is decided that we are to remain where we are during the winter. I do not like this much as I am afraid we will suffer from the cold but for the reason that I will be nearer you where I can hear from you more regularly it is bearable. So far we have had very pleasant weather and have no reason to complain.
Yours of October (without date, has been on hand since Tuesday last and has been read more than once, I can assure you. I have written to you explaining the reason of the stoppage of the half pay and can assure you that it will commence as soon as possible without any further hindrances. You do not wish, dearest, more than I do that we were settled down somewhere in a home of our own and if this war would only be settled, something of the sort might happen. But as it is, one cannot tell if their bread is their own for five minutes at a time.
You say that you wish I would become a minister. This I think will never happen, but I may become a good Christian. I have made a number of resolutions that I am doing all in my power to live up to. Now can’t you aid me with your prayers and in turn, I beg of you to become a good and consistent member of the Church so that our boy will have an example in his Mother and oh! dearest, don’t let him go to bed at night without clasping his infant hands in prayer for Christ expressly says, “Suffer the little ones to come unto me for such is the Kingdom of Heaven.” Lib, I do not blame you for complaining for I know you have the right, but I am trying to be more as I ought and I want you to assist me with your advice and prayers.
You can’t imagine how pleased I was to hear that Gussie still remembered me. Kiss him for me and tell him that his Pa will come to him someday. I hope never to be separated. When you write, I want you to tell me all about his sayings and doings and also about yourself as such letters are most interesting to me. I send you enclosed a stamp and a copy of a prayer that my Mother learnt me when an infant and I want you to teach it to our boy. Direct me as usual. I have no photograph but will try and send you one soon. Wrote soon to your affectionate husband, — Lewis
Goodbye.
Letter 13
U. S. Steamer Juniata Fortress Monroe, Va. November 27th, 1864
I am again seated, my dearest wife, writing my regular Sunday epistle to you and although I have received no late news from you, I will try and make myself as interesting as possible. You see that we are still at the same place and I hope that we may remain here as I have no liking for any more adventures either by flood or field. Indeed, my longing the fixed wish of my heart is now to have a home no matter how small where in the bosom of my little family I might live in peace and quiet and at the same time acquire an honest livelihood providing for the education of my boy. Indeed, dearest, you know not how my conscience upbraids me for my past life and the many miserable hours I spend thinking over the past and trying to reform Heaven I know will lend me aid and I hope yet to become all that may be expected of me. But I will not weary you with this kind of talk but will try and let my actions prove the truth of my words.
I will send you in my next, I expect, my grog money which will not be much but will go to prove that I am at least in earnest. We are having as a general thing beautiful weather, varied with an occasional cold snap for a day or so, then clearing off finely. I am almost inclined to think that the signs of the times bode peace at no very distant day. God grant it may be so as I have seen enough of the horrors of war. Lincoln’s election seemed to carry the idea of four years more of war but yet I think there is some chance for a settlement of our internal difficulties.
Try and write as often as you can, my dear Lib, for I long for your letters. Kiss my dear boy and give him the enclosed twenty-five cents for me. Let him get anything that he likes with it. God bless you dearest. Your affectionate husband, — Lewis
Letter 14
U. S .Steamer “Juniata“ Fortress Monroe, Va. December 1st 1864
My Dear Wife,
Our Captain has just informed us that we may expect to be on our way to Wilmington by day after tomorrow, I think that there is but little doubt but that we may be under fire for a short time but pray that none of us may be harmed. I feel gloomy enough at the prospect of again engaging in battle but as God has protected so far I pray that he may still be merciful to me and spare me to again see my wife and child and by an upright course of conduct try and atone for my past errors and neglect.
You must write to me directing as usual for it will be to me a great disappointment to have the mail come on board and no letters for me. I will write again as soon as there is a chance to send you a letter from our place of destination. I am well as I am usually. I send you enclosed all the money that I have. The half pay will certainly commence on the first of January and continue without any interruption. I am writing in a great hurry and must bring my letter to a close. Goodbye my dearest wife. Kiss Carter for me and do write soon to your attached husband, — Lewis
Letter 15
U. S. Steamer “Juniata“ Fortress Monroe, Va. December 11th 1864
It seems my dearest wife that I was unnecessarily alarmed about leaving when I wrote to you last for we are lying as still as the restless waves of old Ocean will allow us at our usual anchorage, but the signs around us indicate that this calm will soon be broken and scenes of a sterner character will have to be enacted around us in which all will have to take a part.
I was and still hope to receive a letter from you ere we sail from here but knowing your reasons for not wishing to mail your letters at “D” [Dodgeville], I console myself with the idea that all is well and that I shall hear as soon as you get a favorable opportunity of sending a letter to me.
I sent you in my last four dollars (which I wish had been forty) and hope that you received it. I am in hopes to be able to send you some more in my next and also give you the intelligence that the half pay has been renewed.
I am writing in a great hurry and have little of interest to say so wishing the blessing of Heaven upon you and my dear boy. Write soon and as often as you can. What did Carter do with his quarter? Goodbye. Your affectionate husband, — Lewis
Letter 16
U. S. Steamer “Juniata“ Off “Beaufort” North Carolina December 28th 1864
My dear wife,
God has mercifully preserved my life and brought me safe and unharmed through the danger of another battle. We attacked “Fort Fisher” the stronghold of Wilmington on Saturday afternoon last and kept up a steady and continuous fire until dark when we withdrew out of range and rested ourselves until the following day. No one was hurt on Saturday by the shots of the enemy nor was our ship struck at all but sad to relate our 100-pounder gun burst, killing five of our men including two officers and wounding some six or seven men, some of them pretty severely.
A Harper’s Weekly depiction of the bursting of the 100-pounder Parrott gun aboard USS Juniata on 24th December 1864. Amazingly, similar Parrott guns burst on other ships that day as well. One burst on board the Ticonderoga, killing 6 of the crew and wounding 7 others; another burst on board the Yantic, killing 1 officer and 2 men; another on the Mackinaw, killing 1 officer and wounding 5 others; and another on the Quaker City, wounding 2 or 3. In all five guns burst on five ships, leaving the crews fearful and distrustful of the 100-pound Parrott guns. Rear-Admiral David Dixon Porter summed up the day’s bombardment by reporting that the fleet’s own guns killed more Union sailors than did the Confederate guns of Fort Fisher.[See “My Shirt Took Fire Burning Me Terribly”: USS Juniata Sailors Recount their Fort Fisher Injuries” on Civil War Bluejackets.
On Christmas day we again attacked, this time coming in nearer the fort and there we lay firing broadside after broadside until darkness again closed the scene and we withdrew once more out of range. During the action our ship was struck some six or seven times but fortunately no one was hurt. Several shots whistled in what I thought rather dangerous proximity to my head—at least they were too close for comfort.
Monday morning we were ordered to this place which is a day’s sail north of Wilmington to take in coal and ammunition. I can give you no news as to the fight and I am sure that you know even more about the results than I do as you can get that from the papers. I hope and pray that we will not be ordered back there again. The bombardment was most furious as there were more than two hundred guns firing at the fort.
So, my dearest Lib, you see how my Christmas was spent and I have no doubt that you will agree with me in saying that it was in no agreeable manner. I am writing in a great hurry. I hope to be able to write again before I leave here. Kiss my dear boy for me and may my next Christmas be spent with you dearest is the prayer of your affectionate husband, — Lewis
Goodbye. Direct as you always have done and write soon.
Letter 17
At Sea off “Beaufort” North Carolina January 5th 1865
As I have a little time to spare, I thought I would devote it to you, my dear Lib. We are still at anchor lying off “Beaufort” but are ready for sea at a moment’s warning. We have had no correct accounts as yet of our engagement at “Fort Fisher” but know enough to be certain that we did not take it and have but little doubt that before another week is numbered with the past that we will have o renew the attack and more lives will be taken ere the deed is completed. This war is a cruel, murderous business.
I presume that before this time you have received my letter announcing my safety during the last attack and you can be assured by this that I am still in good health. Yours of the 11th of last month (no, I am mistaken, it was dated the 23rd) came to hand day before yesterday and was received as a drop of water to a thirty man. I trust that Gussie has entirely recovered and will be shielded by a mother’s care and prayers from hearing that badness which you seem to think he is liable to. Often my dear wife, do I regret my former course of life and think with bitterness of the past and am and will do all that poor human nature can to reform and make atonement for the past. You know not the privations and hardships of a sailor’s life but I will not complain as I deserve them all.
So Gussie says he is “going down to Dixie to fight the Yankees.” God spare him from ever having to mingle in the horrid scenes of war. Kiss him for me and tell him his Pa thinks often of him and longs for a sight of his dear face.
I am glad you received the money and hope to be able to send you some more in a day or two and the monthly half pay. Direct to me as usual and write soon & often as you can. God bless you prays your affectionate husband, — Lewis
Letter 18
U. S. S. “Juniata“ Bull’s Bay, South Carolina February 17, 1865
Although I have written so recently I still flatter myself, my dearest Lib, that a short note from me will prove acceptable. We are still in the same place as when I wrote last but are momentarily expecting a move somewhere. The greater portion of the crew have been ashore for the last four days. What they are doing is still involved in mystery, but we can shrewdly guess that it is to aid in some demonstration on Charleston. Our ears have been saluted during the whole morning with the report of cannon in the direction of Charleston and we judge from the rapidity of firing that something serious must be going on.
February 19th 1865. I stopped writing day before yesterday, dearest, on account of the scarcity of anything to say. Today I can give you the glorious news that Charleston is in our possession. I say glorious because it is my opinion the greatest step towards peace that has yet been taken, and with the declaration of peace comes the true and genuine hope that I may be with my family without any fear of molestation.
I saw the paymaster the other day and he promised me that the half pay should commence so that you could draw for February. I am waiting his movements with all due patience and don’t think I will close this letter until I can tell you that all is right. Good night dearest. A kiss for Gussie and as many as you like for yourself.
Off Charleston, S. C., February 20th 1865. We are lying in plain view of the much dreaded “Fort Sumpter” and can easily distinguish the steeples and large buildings in the City. Our steamers are busily engaged plying to and fro in places where one week ago it would have been madness for them to be. As yet, I have no particulars to relate and only know the fact of its being in our possession. You will probably gather more from the papers than I will know for some time. I hope and pray my dear Lib, that this may bring the war to a speedy conclusion for it looks to me like that it were worse than folly for the South to attempt to hold out any longer. But at the same time I am free to confess that it galls me to the quick to think that they will be subjugated.
Well, after all the delay, the deed is done and you can write immediately to the Navy Agent at Philadelphia so that you can draw the money for February. You understand how to proceed so that I cannot advise you on that subject. Noe I do hope my dearest wife that nothing can possibly occur to interrupt you in receiving this money regularly—at least if it does, it will not be my fault. Do write me a long letter soon and tell me all the news. Does Carter grow much? and what does he talk about? Does he learn anything in the way of reading? Is he an apt scholar? In fact, tell me all about him and you can tell him with a kiss that his Pa often thinks of him and wishes himself at home. Again I repeat, write as soon and often as you can. Do you ever hear from St. Louis? God bless you both prays yours affectionate husband, – Lewis
Letter 19
U. S. S. “Juniata“ Off Charleston, South Carolina February 27, 1865
I am about to commence a letter to you, my dear Lib, tonight but when I shall finish it I will not now attempt to say. The latest news that I have had of you and Carter was a letter from Mother dated the 7th of this month in which she says that “you and he were well.” I would like to hear from you more frequently but do not blame you in the least for your discretion. I sent you word a few days ago to write on immediately for my February half pay and hope that ere this you have received the letter and written on. If there is any failure in receiving the money, write to me immediately as the pay is deducted from me so that it can be rectified at once. I know of no cause now that can be made an excuse for your not drawing it regularly every month and hope all will be right.
There is some talk that we will get “prize money” for Wilmington and Charleston but nothing as yet is certain. It is only our just due though and I hope that we may obtain it. It could not possibly be less than a thousand dollars and I can assure you that it would be a proud and happy day to me when I could send and order to draw the half of it. Congress may yet give it to us but you know the wheels of the government turn slowly around and we will have to bide our time, although I candidly confess that I want it not for myself but for you. Unless the war closes sooner or something that we know naught of, it will be a year and nine months before that I can turn my face westward. God knows that it seems a long, long time to look forward to, but let us both pray that it may not be so long. Although it needs must be so, we can only hope that time will improve us in all things and that our meeting may be one of unalloyed joy and that no more such partings may occur to mar the pleasure of our after years.
We will probably sail in a day or two for “Port Royal” to coal up and from thence I know not where. I am trying to get an opportunity of visiting “Charleston: tomorrow and if so, I will give you some of the particulars concerning the place. So I will now close my letter with a goodnight kiss for my wife and child.
March 2d. There seems to be but little chance of my being able to go to the City and as it is likely the mail will leave today, I will send my letter. Write to me by every opportunity as it is a long time since I have heard from you. Kiss Carter for me and goodbye. Your affectionate husband, — Lewis
Letter 20
U. S. S. “Juniata“ Port Royal, South Carolina March 5th 1865
I have only time my dearest Lib, to write a very few lines as the mail is momentarily expected to leave the vessel. We have just received orders for an eighteen month’s cruise around the Brazils in South America and will probably leave this place in about a month. I will write again before we leave and certainly send you a line on starting. I hope that you have received my letter telling you to draw my half pay commencing in February. Do try and send me a letter as soon as you can directed to this place as I want to hear from you and Carter before I leave. Carter’s photograph is in my desk and look at his dear face more than once during the day. Kiss him for me, I will try and send him some money to get a remberance of me soon. I am in a great hurry and have to close. Don’t fail dearest to write soon to your affectionate husband, — Lewis
Letter 21
U. S. Ship “Juniata“ Port Royal, South Carolina March 17th 1865
I am about to commence a letter to you tonight, my dearest Lib, but do not expect to finish it until after the arrival of the mail, which is expected tomorrow, when I am I might say in confident expectation of hearing from you. It has been a very long time since my heart was gladdened by the sight of your handwriting, but do not think that I blame you, for my trust and confidence in your love is so great that I know you would let no opportunity escape of doing that which you know would be a pleasure to me. Now dearest, as in all probability I am about to leave this country for a foreign shore to be gone for some time, I want to ask you to do me a few favors, and at the sane time so not think that I am trying to find any fault with you or wish to dictate to you in a manner that you might think harsh or unreasonable. In the first place, do not hesitate a moment to write to Mother and let her know your wants. Write to her as a friend and near relation. Don’t be cold or distant for I know that she will do all in her power to promote your comfort in every way. Try and be more as a daughter to her.
Another thing, I want you to spend some portion of your time with my parents for all at home are devotedly attached to Carter and love his Mother as their own daughter. Even father calls Carter his “little philosopher.” I know you will be invited to spend as long a time with them as you wish and I want you to accept the invitation in the same spirit as it is given and that is one of perfect love. This, Lib, you can do to please me if you will and it is the dearest wish of my heart and the only way that I wish to control your movements in any manner. I will now close or I will not have rom enough to answer your expected letter. A goodnight kiss for my wife and child.
March 18th 1865. Another day has passed but the anxiously expected mail has not arrived. I wish it would come for I am very anxious to hear from you. I want you to think seriously of what I wrote about yesterday and do as I have asked you. It is only a small favor, but I will say no more on the subject. Enclosed you will find five dollars which is all the money that I have. I will try and send Carter a half dollar. Should a mail leave here before one comes in I will send this letter and should yours arrive, I will answer it at another time. I shall write again before our departure. I do not think you had better write until you hear from me again as our whereabouts are very uncertain. Just before we leave, I will write giving you full instructions as regards everything. I will now close so as to be ready for the mail at a moment’s warning. I may have a chance of writing more. If so, I shall improve. Goodbye my dearest Lib. Kiss Carter for me. Your attached husband, — Lewis
Is the half pay business all right? As often as I can get a little money, I will send it to you.
Letter 22
U. S. S. “Juniata“ port Royal, South Carolina March 28th 1865
My dear wife,
I am only about to write a few lines as I am somewhat pinched for time. I have just received a letter from Mother who is now in Philadelphia where she has accompanied Mary to school and where she will remain until fall probably. As soon as you receive this, write to me at once directing your letter to Mother at No. 1200 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. You can put two envelopes on if you wish, one directed to me, the other to Mother. I am getting very anxious to hear from you once more as it has been a very, very long time since I have heard from you. Tell me about the half pay if all is right in that quarter. Did you receive the money I sent you in my last? I will try and send you as much more soon. Believe me dearest, I do not spend a cent for my own personal gratification—only buying just what I am obliged to and all that I can get I will try and send you. Kiss Carter for me and tell me what he said about the little letter I sent him. I have only written to beg you to write immediately. Goodbye. Your affectionate husband, — Lewis
Letter 23
April 12th
We were all mistaken yesterday. That was not the mail steamer but she is hourly expected and I hope that your long looked for letter ay arrive. It is rumored now that we will sail by the 7th of next month which I hope may be true as I am getting tired of lying here doing nothing and I think that time passes away more rapidly when we are on the move.
Yesterday afternoon I was out with a party of the men fishing or hauling a seine. We were only tolerably successful but I had quite a nice mess of fish for my supper. I was in the water constantly for nearly three hours and must confess that I do not feel any better for it this morning. While we were away, Mr. [Gustavus V.] Fox, Assistant Secretary of the Navy, came into Port and there was considerable noise made over him in the way of burning gunpowder. The news has reached us of the fall of Richmond. God grant that the war may be speedily closed. My dearest wife, the mail has come and no letter for me. I am sick at heart and can write no more. Goodbye. Kiss my boy for me. Is it any use to ask you to write soon to your attached husband, – Lewis
Letter 24
U. S. S. “Juniata“ Port Royal. South Carolina April 26th, 1865
Your letters of the 10th, my dear wife, enclosed to Mother has just been received and I will not delay a moment in answering it. I feel very much concerned in reference to Carter’s health, but hope now that he has recovered from the measles that he may become more settled as regards his constitution. I hope and trust that it is only a Mother’s fears that make you think him delicate. I am glad he was pleased with his letter and will try and send him another before I leave. I sent him some time ago a little hymn book and by the same mail with this send him a Little Prince. Tell him he must know how to read before I come back and he must learn the hymns I marked so as to say them off by heart.
I do not know what to think about your losing all your teeth. You must find out what a good false set cost and I will do my best to send on the money for them as soon as possible—even if it should come by driblets. There will be no necessity of the half pay being stopped as I am ahead on my accounts & nothing but the most unwarrantable extravagance on my part could reduce them so as to make such a thing necessary. Southwest Missouri has always been the place where I have longed to settle down in and when I return, I shall wend my steps in that direction if nothing occurs to prevent. They tell me that in Brazil there is a splendid opening for Civil Engineers, the salaries amounting to 4 and 4 thousand dollars a year. As this is my profession, I shall look into the matter and it it proves favorable, we may go there to live. But of this, more anon. How would you like to be transferred into a Spanish domaine? It is very probable that three weeks may yet elapse before we sail and I shall write by every mail.
Dearest, you told me not to send you my grog money fearing that I might stint myself. This is like your generous disposition, but I feel happier in sending it to you than in keeping it myself. I get my board, such as it is, and the few luxuries that I would buy would not be any compensation. It has been a long time since I have seen your dear handwriting and your letter has been read more than once. Forgive me if I have written anything that may seem harsh.
The death of the President is a hard blow to all—both North and South—as I believe that he was the right man in the right place and was doing all in his power to alleviate the sufferings of all. I hope that the murderer may be caught and dealt with as he deserves and I pray that the South may not be dealt more harshly with on account of the action of one man who could have been little better than a maniac.
Orders may arrive to prevent us from our cruise but of this I have little hope and have about settled down to the conviction that I must go. You must cheer up, dearest, for when I come back, I want you to look as handsome as ever for I shall come back to stay—that is, we are not to be separated again. In reference to the likeness, I am sorry to say that there is no chance about here for such a thing but I will certainly send you one just as soon as I can. Kiss Carter for me and write soon to your attached husband, — Lewis
Goodbye.
Letter 25
U. S. S. “Juniata“ Port Royal Harbor May 24th 1865
It really seems to me, my dearest Lib, that I am keeping up a one-sided correspondence, as your letters, like Angel’s visits, are few and far between. I am constantly expecting letters from you but when they don’t arrive, I console myself with the idea that you have had no chance of sending me a letter. Father is East now and the last letter that I received from him he says that he is about to try and procure my discharge from the Navy. I truly hope that he will succeed for I am daily becoming more and more tired of wandering around and feel that I ought to be settled down somewhere with my wife and child. I do not build my hopes much upon his success but would be overjoyed should he succeed. If I am discharged, it is my firm intention to settle down somewhere out West on a farm and there establish a home for us. I presume that I ought to hear something in refernce to this matter by the first of next week but I am patiently waiting the result. Do you think that you could forgetting the past thus settle down with me in love and peace? and tell me truly do you love me as much as you did when we were first married? Dear little Carter, I hope, has fully recovered and is as good and sweet as ever. How I long to hear his childish prattle. What did you think of the likeness? I was almost ashamed to send it but was afraid that I could not get another so concluded that it would have to go. Did you receive the last five dollars I sent you?
Did I tell you that we are having blackberries, green peas, and new potatoes? I am somewhat afraid that our new President will precipitate this country in a war with France before long. Jefferson Davis was in this harbor after his capture and stayed about 12 hours but I did not see him. I presume that times are getting brighter now that they have been for some time. Try and write just as often as you can. Kiss Carter for me. Goodbye. Your affectionate husband, — Lewis
I enclose you some stamps.
Letter 26
U. S. Steamer “Massachusetts” at sea June 14th 1865
My dear Lizzie,
I am on my way to Philadelphia and am once more a free man. My discharge came yesterday, I shall make only a short stop anywhere until I see you, just long enough to settle about the future. Keep this news to yourself. Don’t be surprised but hold yourself in readiness to join me at a moment’s notice. I will write again from Philadelphia. I don’t know that you need write until you hear from me as I am not certain that I will stop long enough to receive a letter. You will not of course receive the June half pay but me instead. How do you like the change? Don’t let anyone see this letter. Keep mum. A kiss for Carter and love for you from your fond husband, — Lewis
The following letter was written by Canadian-born Owen Miles Higgins (1840-1913) who came to the United States with his parents, Miles Higgins (1820-1894) and Mary Devitt (18xx-1890) in 1849. During the Civil War, Owen volunteered to enlist in February, 1862, with a company of marksmen recruited at Detroit known as “Brady’s Sharpshooters” named after a Frontier General. It was organized by Captain Kiniston S. Dygert who had served under that General. On the records of the adjutant General’s office the company was designated as the first independent company of sharpshooters and they were attached to the 16th Michigan Infantry (previously known as “Stockton’s Independent Regiment“). Brady’s Sharpshooters or “Dygert’s Sharpshooters” as they were alternately called, served with the 16th Michigan Regiment until the close of the war. Although they were issued standard military rifles (Prussian Lorenz and Schuetzen Rifles, we had 1861 Springfields and 1853 Enfields), many of the volunteers brought with them their personal customized target rifles, often equipped with telescopic sights, which were used in local shooting competitions. The special mission and origin of these sharpshooters helps to explain the strong esprit de corps of the unit, and why, throughout its service, no draftees were ever included; all of the Brady’s Sharpshooters were volunteers, and though casualty rates were high, there was only one desertion in the field.
The 16th Michigan regiment and Brady’s Sharpshooters would first see action in the Siege of Yorktown and were soon assigned to the V Corps, as part of the 3rd Brigade of the 1st Division.
A portion of the letter was penned by Charles McCormick whom I believe was the infantryman by that name who served in Co. D, 4th Michigan Regiment. He was in a different brigade than Owen but both brigades were in Fitz John Porter’s 1st Division of Heintzelman’s III Corps during the Peninsula Campaign. As such, they were probably camped near each other.
The letter was addressed to Beeri B. Noyes (1841-1924) of Macomb county, Michigan. He was married to Jerusha McCormick (1842-1905) so he would have been Charles McCormick’s brother-in-law.
Transcription
Patriotic stationery used by Owen Higgins
West Point Virginia, May 12th 1862
Friend B. B. Noyes,
I have sat down to write you a few lines to let you know where & how we are. We are at West Point. We left Yorktown the 6th after the evacuation & sailed up the York river on the United States Steamship. There had been a fight the day before we landed here by our troops & the Brigade of Texan Rangers, 1 Negroes & Indians & two regiments of ours drove them with quite a loss, but they took some of our men prisoners but said they showed no quarters nor asked any, so they killed all of our men that they took by cutting their throats from ear to ear & cutting their tongues out of their head so they can’t ask any quarters nor we won’t give any. We will kill every Negro that we get our eyes on hereafter. Some of our boys have killed five or six now within a day or two for their barbarity by cutting their throats or hanging them up by their heels.
A big thing—we caught a spy during the recent skirmish at this place that owns this plantation. He was down at Halls Hill, Va., selling songs & you probably have heard one of them—the new Dixie that Fred Smith sent back & he used to get up on stumps & sing. But he will learn to dance now on a swing. He went by here under guards & the boys commenced singing some of his patriotic songs to him as he went marching along. We are now under marching orders with three days rations for Richmond. Well, I guess I will bring this letter to a close & let Charley have a chance as he is here. Please write. From O[wen] Higgins to B. B. Noyes
Direct the same as usual. Stockton’s Michigan Regiment, Brady S[harpshooters].
West Point, Va. May 12, 1862
Dear Brother,
As I am here & Owen is a writing, he wants me to write a little but I don’t know anything to write. I wrote a letter home yesterday. We are a having the nicest weather that I ever saw. I wish that you could be here a few days to see how we get along. We have a having good times.
I went to drill this forenoon & we went down on the shore & went in a swimming. We stayed in the water till our time was up and then we went back to camp so I think that we had a good drill—just the kind that I like. Owen sits here with his hands on his knees a thinking about something, I don’t know. No more at present, so goodbye. This from your brother, — C. McCormick
1 It was not the “Texas Rangers” but men of John Bell Hood’s Texas Brigade that advanced on the Union troops near Eltham’s Landing near West Point, Virginia. The battle was really nothing more than a heavy skirmish. There were 194 Union casualties and 49 Confederate. There were no Indians or Negroes assisting in the Confederate attack and no instances of brutality that such was suggested in this letter than I could find in the literature—not even period newspapers.
Patriotic letterhead on stationery using by Conkling in 1861
The following letter were written by David Watson (“Wat”) Conkling (1835-1904), the son of David Conkling (1806-1881) and Almira Ann Watson (1810-1865) of Rensselaerville, Albany county, New York. Wat wrote the letters to Louisa (“Lou”) L. Randall (1841-1903), the daughter of Andrew Jackson Randall (1815-1879) and Juliette King (1815-1892) of Union, Monroe county, New York. The letters were written in the days ahead of Wat & Lou’s marriage on 19 June 1861.
Letter 1
New York May 28, 1861
My own darling Lou,
Again I am seated to have a nice chat with you, although this talking all to ones self is not always pleasant, for this is the fourth letter I have written you dear and have received but one in reply. I did hope that I should have a letter from you while I was here but as yet have not heard one in two weeks. Yet I hope I may have a letter tonight. Have you been sick darling that you have not written me! or are you so busy you can not get time.
I left home last Thursday and have been here since Friday. I have enjoyed my visit very much although my time has been occupied with business. I have completed my purchases today. We have been buying your Bridal Presents and I think they are splendid.
Col. Elmer Ellsworth
New York is all excitement about the War. Every day the booming of cannon announces the departure of some regiment for the seat of War. Last Sunday there was a grand procession in honor of the late Colonel Ellsworth who was assassinated at Alexandria by a secessionist named Jackson. Ellsworth was a fine officer and commanded the Chicago Zouaves.
Soldiers are to be seen marching the streets and occasionally you meet a company drumming up recruits marching around the streets with martial music and colors flying. Saturday there was a grand display of military forming a column of five miles in length and four men abroad.
The weather is very fine, being just warm enough to be pleasant.
I shall return home tomorrow which is Wednesday and if I do not get a letter from you before I leave here, I hope to find one on my return home. I sent you a list of friends that I wish you to invite [to our wedding] with their mail address and I wish you to mail them. I will send you an extra 50 for your own use. Invite whoever you think best of your friends and neighbors. Uncle S[tephen] V[an] R[ensselaer] Watson and sister Mollie and Aunt Charlotte from Buffalo and Uncle Williams people will be all of my friends that I think will attend the wedding. The Complimentary Cards I will bring when I come out. I will express the cards to Holley to your father and he can send by the Kendall Stage for them if he chooses to. I will express them Wednesday the 29th instead. I think they will be at Holley on Friday of this week.
Only three short weeks will elapse, darling lover, before you will see me again and then we will not be separated, will we darling Lou? The time seems so very long—does it to you, dearest? I have thought of you almost constantly of late. Do not work too hard, darling girl. I should have sent you some music but I know you have not the time to learn it now. I sent you some papers. Did you receive them? And now, goodbye with one sweet kiss. I will write you Monday if I receive a letter from you this week. Good night dearest Louisa.
The following letters were written by James E. Weir who mustered in as a private in Co. C, 5th New York Infantry on 9 May 1861 to serve two years. He mustered out with company on 14 May 1863, at New York city. The regiment—also known as Duryée’s Zouaves—were moved to the Virginia Peninsula with two weeks of their mustering into service and encamped near Fortress Monroe, and then at Newport News before leading the force at Big Bethel in mid-June 1861. Following that they were sent to Baltimore to protect the railroads and the city. They garrisoned an earthen fort at the summit of Federal Hill.
Duryea Zouaves, Adjutant General Regimental Mess, Fort Schuyler, May 18, 1861. Metropolitan Museum of Art
Letter 1
Camp Hamilton June 26, 1861
Dear Father & Mother,
I write you these few lines to let you know that I am in good health as I hope you are at present. We are very busy here at present digging trenches and building batteries. We are building four batteries about a mile apart. We work at night time so they cannot see us working. Last Sunday we went over to Hampton—40 of us—and got a flag pole, the first one that ever had a secession flag on. We dug it up and brought it over here to camp and we expect to raise it on the Fourth of July and have a good time over it. I send you a piece of the pole as a relic. It is the same pole that we took the secession flag from that was sent down to the city last week.
We have got two pieces of artillery—one a Howitzer, and the other is a rifled cannon and we expect some in the course of a week or so.
The sergeant that got shot last week is getting along very well. I just came in from picket guard. We have ben away for two days. We have to march 10 miles before we get to the place where the guard stops. It is very hot out here. There is not a man out here but is sun burnt and the skin is pealing off their face. I forgot to tell you that every regiment takes turns once a week. We all get along very well here—only for the sun.
Robert Williams is a disgrace to his company and the regiment. I suppose that he will get drummed out of the regiment so if he comes home, you will know the reason. On Monday when we were on drill, there was a pair of pantaloons hanging up in one of Company A’s tents and there was some letters and money in them and when the man came after them, he swore he did not see them and he had them on him at the same time and he was the first one to open his knapsack and let them search it. He lost his own and that [was] the reason he took them, because he thought that he was going home so let all the boys know it. He is inn the guard house now waiting to be court martialed.
I sent a letter to James White but did not get an answer yet. There was one of Company A men died yesterday and was taken to the City. Give my best respects to all my friends and all the boys and girls. Send word how the children is. I hope they are getting better again. Remember me to William Henry. So no more at present. From your affectionate son, – James E. Weir
I wish you would send me a couple of envelopes. I have only a few. Goodbye. Write soon as I am anxious to know how you are all. Tell John Bolen to write soon.
Letter 2
Camp Federal Hill July 30th 1861
Dear Father & Mother,
I write these few lines to let you know that I am in good health as I hope you are at present.
On Thursday we got orders to strike tents and get three days rations ready for a march to Fox Hill and then from there to Yorktown. But the order was countermanded and then the orders was to march on to Washington. So we started about 10 o’clock the next night and embarked on board the steamer Adelaide for Baltimore, then to Washington, but instead of going to Washington we encamped on Federal Hill, Baltimore, near Fort McHenry. It is a splendid place. We have a splendid view of the City of Baltimore. It looks more like being home.
Last night we had a long roll and every man was in line in less time than could be thought of. Then there was four companies picked out for to go to President Street Railroad Station to quell a riot. But when we got there, it was all over so they had no fun as they call it. We had crowds of visitors every day coming to see us. I sent you a Secession envelope which I got in the City of Baltimore.
Robert Williams 1 received his sentence last night. His sentence was to have his head shaved and receive no pay and a board hanging around his neck with the word “Thief” printed on it and be drummed out of the regiment for stealing a pair of pants from Private Wams [?] of Company I. Also stealing a sash from Private [Charles E.] Ellis in the same tent with himself, and third stealing a pistol from Private [William] Potts, also in the same tent with him. There is not a man in the company sorry for him but they pity his father and mother as I do myself. Some of the boys says he run the guard. I have not seen him since last night so I cannot tell.
We expect to go to Washington as soon as some regiment relieves us as we had to relieve the 18th Pennsylvania Regiment. But not until then.
Give my best respects to all my friends and all the boys and girls, Remember me to the children and to William Henry. Tell Albert Buschman he must excuse me for not writing as we have been very busy ever since I received his, but I will write as soon as I get time. Sergeants [George E.] Hager and [Galbreath] Mathews send their best respects to you. When you write, direct your letter to Camp Federal Hill, Baltimore, instead of Camp Hamilton. No more at present. From your affectionate son, — James E. Weir
Write soon. Goodbye.
1 Robert H. Williams was 19 years old when he enlisted in April 1861 at New York City to serve as a private in Co. C, 5th New York Infantry. He deserted on 31 July 1861 at Baltimore, Maryland.
Letter 3
Camp Federal Hill November 3rd 1861
Dear Father,
I received your letter of the 1st inst. and was glad to find you well as I am very well myself. We have got done working on our battery and have 36 guns mounted on it. We also raised a large flag pole about 150 feet hight and hoisted the Stars & Stripes on it last week. The flag is 36 x 20 feet wide—one that was presented to us by the people of Baltimore, Maryland.
An unknown soldier in the 5th New York Infantry (LOC)
We drill about twice a week on the guns. I wrote to James White and have not received any answer yet and a couple from Albert Buschman. I am glad that you had such a good time on hallow eve. I wrote to Johnny McGrayan about 3 weeks ago and have not got any answer. Tell him I would like to hear from him very much. I heard that all the boys and girls has moved away from around there.
I would like very much if you would send me the Weekly instead of the Ledger for there is a man in our tent that gets it. Then we could have two papers instead of one.
Sergeant [Norman H.] Camp has got a commission in a New Jersey Regiment as 2nd Lieutenant. 1 The men is very sorry for him leaving us.
I send you a piece of stone that came from a battery of six guns which sunk the English fleet when they were bombarding Fort McHenry in Baltimore. There was a large swivel gun mounted on this stone of which this is a piece of.
I suppose that it is very cold in New York now. It is very nice weather here. There was talk of building barracks next week for winter quarters.
Give my best respects to Henry and give my best respects to the boys and girls. No more at present. From your son, — James E. Weir
Write soon. I received the papers you sent.
1 Norman H. Camp was promoted sergeant in Co. C on 28 October 1861. He was discharged on 29 October 1861 to accept a commission and 2d Lieutenant of Co. K, 4th New Jersey Volunteers.
Letter 4
Harewood Hospital October 8, 1862
Dear Father,
I received your letter of the 5th and was glad to find you all in good health. I still continue the same way. I am sorry that I did not see Mrs. Gibson. There is a great many ladies comes here to the hospital to give any little nourishment that the sick like to have. I got a letter from Johnny McGray on the next day after I received yours. He says that Jim is in business in King Street, Alexandria. He wrote about the marriage and said they had a good time of it.
It would be a great deal better for Robert Gibson to get home if he could for he is hardly able to stand it. But he has stuck it out pretty good since he has been in the army. There is no such thing as getting a furlough to go home. Those that is home has skedaddled from the regiments when the fighting was going on and got home.
I have been expecting a letter from one of the boys in the regiment but I believe they have not got any mail yet. But they expect it every day [or] so one of the boys that has left the regiment lately says.
I wish you would tell John Hamilton to write a little oftener. Do not be so long in answering my letters for I feel very bad when I do not hear from home. You might try and see if you could not get me a furlough. If it is any trouble to get it, you need not trouble yourself about it for I am not very anxious to get home for it would be just as bad leaving again as it was when I first left. I will try and see if I cannot get out and see Anthony for I would like to see him very much.
Those men that has deserted ought to be sent somewhere and made [to] work all the time they were away from their regiments.If they cannot stay long enough from home until they serve their time out [that] they swore in for, they ought not join the army but stay home and go and starve. If they do not think enough of the country, they ought to leave it.
Give my respects to all the boys and girls. Also remember me to William, Henry, and the children. No more. From your affectionate son, — James E. Weir
Spared & Shared 23 