Category Archives: 77th New York Infantry

77th New York Infantry

1863-4: Alonzo D. Bump to Mary (Richards) Bump

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The following letters were written by Alonzo D. Bump (1837-1905) of Co. K, 77th New York Infantry. Alonzo enlisted as a private in August 1862 at Saratoga Springs, New York, mustering into Co. K on 17 September 1862. At the time of his enlistment, he was described as standing 5′ 4″ tall, with brown hair and hazel eyes. He gave his occupation as “mill operator.” He was married to Mary E. Richards on 21 June 1853 at Argyle, New York.

Many of Alonzo’s letters are archived at the History Center at Brookside Museum and formed the basis for a book written by David Allen Handy in 2022. The book jacket informs us that Alonzo “lived in the thriving small cotton mill town of Victory Mills, the home of the Saratoga Victory Manufacturing Company where he was employed as a weaver. With the desire to “go down to see the world,” Alonzo left behind Mary, his wife, and his three-year-old daughter, Mattie. Private Bump’s letters were largely written to Mary, though a small few were sent to his mother, sister, mother-in-law, and his two sisters-in-law. His letters reveal a deep love shared with Mary. For Alonzo, composing letters served as the primary instrument whereby he maintained his emotional ties with Mary and had a powerful therapeutic benefit for the married couple.”

The following letters are all in private collections and it isn’t known whether they were included among the letters in the book, “Theas Few Lines.”

Letter 1

Camp near Culpeper
October 4th [1863]

Dear wife,

I now take my pen in hand to answer your kind letter that I received about 10 minutes ago and I sit right down to answer it. Well dear, I suppose that you want to know the news. Well our regiment hain’t a goin’ into cavalry for the Colonel wrote to Washington about it and they wrote back that they wanted regiments that had less than a year to stay for our regiment has got about 13 months months more to serve yet and then we shall be out of it I hope. But I think that this war will be over before our time is out for I don’t think that they can stand it a year longer. But still they may. But I think that if Old Rosecrans licks them at Chattanooga and Old Gilmore takes Charleston, that Rebeldom is about played out.

Dear, the order has just come again to move but we may not for the order may be countermanded for we have had the same orders twice before and we are here yet. Dear, I hope that you will get the money that I sent you by the time that you get this letter. But Dear, I hope that you won’t send my boots by mail for it will cost you so much for I could get a pair here for 9 dollars and if you send them by mail they will cost you most that.

Dear, you said that the girls had been over to Gailsville and there was some men a searching Mart’s house. 1 Well, dear, I hope that they won’t get Mart but if they do, they won’t shoot him for there has been an order read here through the whole army that there would be no more deserters shot but all back pay stopped from them But dear, when I was in Pennsylvania, I had all the chance to desert in world but I would not for when I come ome, I am coming home so I can stay with you in peace and not have to hide or anything else. Don’t you think that that is the best way, dear, for I know how how you would feel to have me come home and then have some man come in and take me. And I should feel bad too. But dear, I shall never desert my country and flag. But I am glad that they have got Nelse Harris. I hope that they will fetch him back.

Dear, take good care of little Mattie as you can and write often for I do too when we lay in camp, and when we are on the march, you must not expect to hear from me very often. Give my love to all the girls and here is a sweet kiss for you and one for your Mother. So goodbye for this time. From your husband, — Alonzo D. Bump

1 This is a reference to Martin (“Mart”) Davis who enlisted in August 1862 at Saratoga in Co. K, 77th New York Infantry. He deserted on 19 September 1862 at Albany, New York prior to the date of mustering in.

Letter 2

Camp on the Rapidan River
October 9 [1863]

Dear Wife,

I now sit down to answer your letter, No. 4, which I received today. It found me well and I hope that this will find you the same. I was glad to hear that little Mattie was better. I received a letter from Ell Richards the same time and I was very much disappointed to see them come and I received one from Lide and a paper the same time so you see that I had a handful of letters and I was gone when the mail come in over to the regiment to see Capt. Rockwell. He came back yesterday to settle up his business. He says that he has got his discharge and I am glad of it. He has stayed as long as I thought he would when he come away. But never mind that. I am willing to stay my time out if I can only have my health. That is all that I ask. I am willing to do my duty as a soldier.

Dear, I come out here for a soldier and I mean to be one as long as I can. I have been so far. I am on duty now most every day. Yesterday I was out with the prisoners a building rifle pits. Dear, we are down on the Rapidan now where we can see the Rebels as plain as you can see the mill from our house. But dear, we have got our quarters where the Rebs can’t hurt us. But I feel sorry for the poor boys that are out in front on picket. Dear, we had three Rebels came over last night and they said that there was lots more a coming but they have not come yet. But they may tonight.

Dear, I hope that you. will send me my boots by Express for they will come just as safe as they will by mail and it won’t cost you half as much. Dear, I was glad to hear Ell say that I need not worry about you or Mattie, I hope that when she begins to quarrel with you that she will think of me and what I have told her. Dear, have patience and not get mad too quick but think twice before you speak once. But I am a going to write to Ell just as soon as I get this done.

Dear, I think that we shall fall back from here in a few days for the Rebs have got too strong a position here for us. I think that Old Meade will fight them at Culpeper if he can get them this side of the river. We can lick them but still we may not fight at all. I hope not on the Boys account. Dear, I am a going to see the captain before he goes home and maybe I shall send you my revolver to keep for me. But then a great many times it comes in lay and it may save my life sometime if I keep it here and then if I should get taken prisoner, they would take it from me. I don’t know what I shall do with it yet. But go and see him when he comes…[rest of letter missing]

Letter 3

Addressed to Ell Richards, Victory Mills, Saratoga County, New York

In Camp near Brandy Station
November 13, [1863]

Dear Sister,

I received your kind letter last night and was glad to hear from you. It found me well and in good spirits and I hope that these few lines may find you the same. We have had another bloody battle here. We made a clean sweep of the Rebs. We took all that came over the river and I wish that it had been the whole of the Reb army. But dear, we cleaned the platter once and I think that we can do it again if they will only come out and fight us on good ground. But that they won’t do for they won’t fight unless they can get into their breastworks. But we drove them out of them this time and drove them into the river.

Well, Ell, I am glad that you have got those verses that I sent to you and I hope that you will get a pretty tune for them. Ell, give my best respects to all the girls in the Mill and tell them that Old Bump is alive yet.

Ell, I received that piece that you sent to me and it is a very good advice and I thank you for that. Ell, here is a sweet kiss for you and may it not be long before I shall be at home to press them to your cheek. So goodbye for this time. This from your brother. Love to sister, Ell. — Alonzo D. Bump

Letter 4

[The following letter is in the personal collection of Greg Herr and was offered for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.]

Headquarters Co. K, 77th N Y. Vol. Inf.
Camp near Brandy Station
December 21, 1863

Dear Wife,

I now sit down to answer your kind and welcome letter that I received last night. It found me well and in good health. But I was very sorry to hear that Ell was sick. But I hope that she is better before this. I hope that you or Mattie won’t have the sore throat for I should feel very bad to hear that you was sick and I could not get home to see you.

Dear, you said in your letter that you felt very bad to hear and see that I wrote home to Tipp to get me a bottle of gin but dear, I did not write to him because I did not think that you was willing to get it for me, but it was because I thought that you would not want to go to the tavern and get it for you know that it would look better for him to get it than you and it would not cost him any more than it would you. Now dear, you said that you began to think that I had forgotten you. But dear, I have not, nor I never shall as long as I live. But dear, I have been on duty most every day since I came back this side of the Rapidan and I have not had time to write to you. But dear, I wrote you a letter yesterday and now I am a writing again today.

You said that you had got my box ready to send and I hope that you have nailed it up well for they handle it rather rough when they are a coming on the cars and I hope that it will get here by Christmas or New Years. If it does, I will stuff my belly and you can bet on that.

Dear, give my love to all the girls and tell them to write to me and here is a sweet kiss for you all and I will write to you again soon. Write as often as you can and I will do the same, dear one. This from your ever true and loving husband, — Alonzo D. Bump

to Mary E. Bump

Dear, if you are sick, I want you to write to me and I will show it to the captain and maybe I can get a furlough first. So goodbye.

Letter 3

In Camp near Brandy Station
March 19th [1864]

Dear Wife,

I now sit down to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope that these few lines may find you the same. I have enough to eat and drink and a plenty of work to do and when I am to work, I feel better than I do to lay around in my tent for then I don’t have any appetite to eat and now I can eat my allowance three ties a say.

Mary, yesterday we had marching orders, come to the ready to march at short notice with three days rations, and we packed up our haversacks with soft bread and hard tack, pork, coffee, sugar, salt, pepper, and was ready and a waiting for the order to come to start. But the order was countermanded so we unpacked again and went to sleep as usual. There was a rumor around camp that Old Ewell’s Corps was on the move so we was on the lookout for him but he did not come, nor that hain’t all. I don’t think that he dare come here to fight us on our own ground for we can whip them every day in the week on fair footing. But we have never met them only once on good fair fighting and that was last fall to Rappahannock Station and there they had rifle pits dug. But they dare not stick up their heads to fire at us so we took 16 hundred prisoners there and killed a good many besides.

And at Gettysburg we coppered their goose too. If they had only stayed there one day longer, we would [have] took the whole of Old Lee’s army. But they slipped through the hole and left, and maybe it was just as well for us that they did leave for our Corps would had to went in on the Fourth of July for a celebration. But I for one am satisfied. As it was, I saved my head once from a shell or at least it came as near to me as I wanted it to.

But dear, probably I shall weary your patience by telling over old times. But I must write something to fill up my sheet so bear with it.

Dear, I received a letter from you last night and was glad to hear that you was well. I found one in it for Harry and he said that he was a going to write to Ell and he said that he would never bring her out and he thought all the more of her for doing so and I told him before I showed him the letter that if it was a going to make any trouble for my folks, that I should not let him see it and he said that it would not for Dear, I know that you all have trouble enough without my making any for you.

And Dear, tell Ell that Harry thanks her for it and says that he will do her as good a favor if he can. Dear, I feel sorry for him. I hope and pray that I shall never have any such trouble—not as long as I am in the army. And I don’t think I shall for I believe that I have got a woman that is true to me for Dear, I am you to you.

But dear, sometimes I am tempted to take a little meat for my health for I think that it would do me good. But then I don’t like the kind so I let it alone and hope that it won’t be long before I shall be at home to take my rations regular. Give my love to your mother and the girls and tell them to write to me often for I like to hear from them. I wish I had been there last night to went to the blow-out dance. I will bet I should had a good time with you and the girls and if I ever live to come home, I will have one good time, you can bet your boots and shirt.

Mary, I got a letter from mother last night stating that she had sent me a box. Bully for her. May peace go with her and Joy behind her for that, and as soon as I get it, I will write what she sent. So good night, dearest, from your ever true and loving spouse. — Alonzo D. Bump

Kiss Mattie for me Mary 50 times.

This is answer to No. 7 and 8. I suppose you have got the letter by this time that I sent by Orderly. Probably he put it in the office to Troy or Albany. He is home on a 10 days furlough. He lives to Sarasota Springs.

77th New York Infantry

1863: Amanda (Angle) McPherson to James Bedell McKean

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The following lengthy letter was written by 48 year-old Amanda (Angle) McPherson (1815-1887), the wife of Peter McPherson (1814-1891) of West Milton, Saratoga county, New York. She wrote the letter to Colonel James B. McKean of the 77th New York Infantry, pleading the case of her son Edwin L. McPherson (1837-Aft1910)—a member of that regiment—who was arrested for violating his parole by returning home rather than to remain in the convalescent camp after he he had been released by the Confederates following his capture during the Second Battle of Fredericksburg on 5 May 1863. Sent to the convalescent camp while awaiting his exchange, Edwin believed he could go home since he had to remain a noncombatant until properly exchanged but his absence from the camp without a furlough resulted in his being declared a deserter.

The 77th New York Infantry, known as the Saratoga Regiment, was mustered into service in November 1861 and Edwin, aged 24 at the time of his enlistment, entered as a private. The regiment was a hard fought regiment which lost heavily at Antietam before the fight at Fredericksburg.

Where Edwin went after he deserted from the army is not known but he showed up in Adrian, Lewanee county, Michigan after the war, married there and remained there the balance of his life. Amanda and her husband Peter relocated to Adrian as well and were buried there in Oakwood Cemetery.

Transcription

West Milton, Saratoga County, New York
August 10th 1863

Dear Sir,

I should not have troubled you with this letter was it not for something that lays near my heart, and that the Colonel in his letter which you will see, saying let your husband call on Adjutant General Sprague, relate the facts to him & money is wanting with him to come and see you. I told him I would write & tell you just as it is, and I thought your kind heart would lead you to render assistance to your fellow beings. A friend in need is a friend indeed.

Col. James Bedell McKean, 77th NY Infantry

Now I will tell you in the first place how I came to write to Colonel McKean. The next night after we came from visiting our sick son in Albany, while I was praying for our bleeding country & that the Lord would take care of our son and preserve him still from death, or anything that blame could be attached to him, he has often wrote that did not approve of desertion. It seemed as if something said to me, write to Col. McKean & tell him how he is situated & about his health & his eye & he will help you to [obtain] a discharge for your son. So the next day I sit down to write him & here is his answer.

Now I will give you my son’s history from the time of his enlistment—two years it will be this fall. He enlisted in the 77th [New York Infantry] & left his friends & home to fight for & preserve the Union as far as laid in his power. He has stayed with his regiment, been through all the hardships and perils and long marches & has faced death while his comrades have been cut down on every side. Still the Lord has seen fit to spare him.

At the Battle of Fredericksburg, he with 1700 others were taken prisoners, were marched a hundred and thirty miles—I think he said it was—through Richmond to Belle Island where they were paroled & then marched back with a cruel man for a driver. They came to Annapolis, stayed there four days, then the New York soldiers were sent to Camp Convalescent. My son as well as others was anxious to come home and make a visit, seeing they could be of no service until they were exchanged. I do not know whether he asked for a furlough or not, but he said some of the boys asked for one & the commander told them he could not give them one, but said if they was not smart enough to get home without a furlough, they wasn’t much of a soldier. So they took it for granted that if they could get out of the lines, they might come home. So my son and another fellow got a pass to Washington & came home.

He got here Saturday & on Monday or Tuesday, he sat down & wrote to the commander at the Convalescent Camp giving him the name of the place & post office address saying, “Please let me know when we are to be exchanged & I will be on hand,” or something like that. I am not positive just the words, but I think those were the words. His father and he thought being he was a prisoner and under that man’s control that that was the place he ought to report to. But imagine our feelings & surprise when a week from the next Friday, on come the Deputy Provost Marshal and arrested my son for a deserter.

I shall leave to your honor to say if you think he meant to desert to come home & stay openly & boldly & write back, which he would not have done if he had meant to have left for good. Well, they took him to Albany & from there to Schenectady & locked him up. How it starts the tears from my eyes when I write this—to think that our only son—all the son we have—should enlist without those large bounties that some have got since he enlisted, & go for the defense of our country & go through what he has, & I think his health is ruined for life. He has such a pain in his right side & when he had been home a day or two, has spoke of his stomach swelling. When I come to look at him, it was swollen near as large as a quart bowl. His father asked him how long it had been so. He said some 5 or 6 months. I think those long marches & those straps across his breast is the cause of it. He said he has had his feet wet for ten days and nights & not had his boots off in the time. All those things has tended to undermine his health.

As I was going to say, when I think of what he has went through, and to think he was took off like a felon & put in jail. Do you think I could tell you how we felt? If you have an only son, you can imagine better than I can, I tell you. But there is a day a coming when all that do right will be treated accordingly. A private there will receive as much praise for his good behavior & honesty & for doing to others as he would wish others to do to him, as though he were a king. It is that alone that keeps us from sinking beneath our feelings now.

To continue, his father went with him when they took him away. Mr. Butler told him he would leave Schenectady Monday afternoon so on Monday a.m. we went to see him & carry him some clothes. When we got there, we found him sick. His father stayed with him that night to see what the doctors thought of him. He said he was a going to have a run of fever & he must be taken to a hospital. So Mr. Butler wrote a letter to Major Townsend & Mr. McPherson took it to him. He read it, wrote another, sent the two to Major Wallis which he read, then told my husband to fetch him to the hospital for two weeks. He was very sick. Then he began to mend. We went to see him twice while he was there. When we were there the last time, which will be three weeks tomorrow, we talked with the clerk, Mr. Cogswell, to see if he could not be taken into the Invalid Corps. The ward master took his name for that the week before but the clerk said he would have to go back to Convalescent Camp. He told him he wasn’t able to go then so when we left him from the camp, I told him we should look for a letter from him on Saturday or Tuesday at the farthest.

We sent to the [post] office Saturday & no letter. And on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, & Thursday—by that time I go to uneasy about him, I was afraid he had gone on and was taken worse. So on Friday I wrote a few lines to the lady of the hospital telling her we wee afraid he was down sick again seeing we had had no letter from him since we were there. The next Tuesday, which is last Tuesday, I received a letter from her saying that his health had continued to improve since we were there and that last Wednesday he left there & they had not seen him since. It was three days then.

I think he had not the least idea of leaving in such a way when we were there for if he had, he would have said something or hinted it to us. But if there is any truth in man or woman, I can assure you that we had not the least nor distant thought of his leaving—only to go to the camp. We would be very glad to know how he came to leave. The only thing that I can bring up in my mind is this. When we went to Schenectady to see him while his Pa had gone after the doctor, he said to me, “Now you can see how a man is used for reporting and trying to do the fair thing.” “Never mind it,” I said, “Perhaps the Lord has taken this way to fetch it about so you will get a discharge or be put in the Invalid Corps.” That was all the conversation that passed between us on that subject, except he said, “What do the neighbors say about their taking me off?” “They think,” said I, “that the commander at the camp might have wrote to you as long as you was honest enough to tell him where you was and then if you had not have went, they then could have sent for you.”

I will assure you, he is marked where he is known for his truthfulness & steady habits & I think if you wanted any proof of his habits or character, more than taking my word for it, if you would draw up a paper & send it to us, if we don’t get 10 signers enough to it here ot to his regiment to satisfy you of what I have written to be true, then I will ask help of no one.

When I spoke to my husband about writing to you, he said it was of no use, it will not do any good. I must confess my faith has wavered until Friday all at once, while I was at work, it came to me like a flash. Why should I doubt. The Lord is not slack concerning His promises as some men count slackness but is not willing that any should perish—that all should come to the knowledge of truth. Said I to my daughter, “I believe if I should write to you & tell you that that our hope & trust is in God & you to contrive some way that [our son] may be honorably discharged, I cannot bear the thought that he should leave in such a way but think probably after we came away he thought like this.

Now I came, it’s true, like a great many others and reported as I thought to the right place & must I be arrested when I told him where I was, took and locked up, then have a bill of twelve dollars and a half sent in for taking me when perhaps there will be two or three more sent for taking me back, which will take four or five months of my wages to pay while the other fellow that came with me is taken in the Invalid Corps, when three cents [the price of a stamp] would have saved all this? Or perhaps he seen others taken off handcuffed & chained together. I have heard that’s the way they do it. But remember, I only guess at this. But I have no doubt but what those were his thoughts & that he had no way to remedy it now. But his feelings were hurt to the quick for it was something he wasn’t expecting.

Now, for our part, I would like to ask your excellency this. Is there an honorable way that you can devise or cause to be done so that my son could be discharged provided we could by any means get a clue to where he is and have him come back to Albany. If you can & will assure us that he shall have a discharge, he is deserving of it, don’t you think so? For one, he has but one eye & that is his left one. If you can, please let us know and how long a time you will give us to find him. It will probably take some time & money for we can form no idea where he is now or in what direction he has gone. I think his health would not admit of his going far on foot. He has friends living in different states. He might have taken the cars and we should have to write & get an answer. But if you can do it, you shall be paid for your trouble for we all do something for the pay if it cost us 50 dollars or a hundred to have him to…P. S. If I have written any[thing] that is not becoming or has any sound like disloyalty, I take it all back.

N. B. If he should have been out in the Invalid Corps, he would have been satisfied. I heard him say so when he was first taken sick & I think perhaps Major Wallace would have done it if my husband could have seen him while he was sick at Albany.

…home once more as he once was. We are patriotic, I’ll assure you. My husband offered himself last fall but they would not take him & was my son, what he was 18 months ago & subject to military duty, I should not plead so for him. I have wearied your patience long before this time so I will close hoping and praying for the result.

Yours with respect, — Mrs. Peter McPherson