Category Archives: Widow’s Pension Application

115th Pennsylvania Infantry, Widow's Pension Application

1862-63: William F. Carman to Emma Carman

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A tintype of William Carman, Co. A, 115th Pennsylvania Infantry, found in the Pension Office Records in Washington D. C.

The following letters were written by William F. Carman (1827-1863) of Co. A, 115th Pennsylvania Infantry. According to the pension application, he “died from wounds received at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863. He left a widow, Emma Carman, and a fifteen year-old daughter, Josephine Carman, of Philadelphia. “Mr. Carman was a shirt cutter. He was a respectable, active, and industrious man, and always took good care of his family.”

I have not been able to find a biographical sketch for William that tells us anything about his parentage but from what I have been able to cobble together, it appears he was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland. He was, it seems, the oldest child of William Carman (1785-@1855) and Susanna Townsend (1801-1862). The couple were married in the Methodist Church in Baltimore on 23 January 1825. William (the father) was a cripple and made a meagre living cutting hair. Besides William, there were two younger sons—John (“Jack”) F. Carman (b. 1835), and Thomas J. Carman (b. 1837). Thomas, the youngest, was the only son still living at home in 1862 when these letters began, though he enlisted in the US Navy in August 1862 and was assigned to the Steamer United States. Thomas must have been well suited for the Navy for he could apparently drink and fight with the best of the Baltimore rowdies.

An early-war recruiting poster for what would become part of the 115th Pennsylvania commanded by Col. Robt. Emmett Patterson (LOC)

“William F. Carman called his new bride ‘Emma’ when they were married in Baltimore, Maryland in May 1848. Their daughter, Josephine, arrived soon after. By the time the 1860 Federal census was taken, the family had moved from Baltimore to the 3rd Ward of Philadelphia. William worked as a shirt cutter before enlisting on April 2, 1862 to serve a three-year term in the Union army. This left Emma alone to raise their teenage daughter and eventually find a means of support as the Army was slow to pay the soldiers. 

William was devoted to Emma. Emma’s pension file contains thirty-two handwritten letters from William spanning eleven months, the earliest one dated July 1, 1862…The last from William letter is dated June 6, 1863 and appears to be the last one Emma received from him. His death came three days later on June 9. 

Emma’s pension file does not provide information on how – or even if – she and Josephine were notified of William’s death, but it does document Emma’s struggles to survive without him. As her mental state spiraled downward, we see her lose grip of William’s letters and his “likeness” in an effort to establish herself as his “legal widow” within the strict bureaucratic government system brokered by the Pension Bureau, only to be overturned in the end by a Special Agent with his ear to a churning neighborhood rumor mill.”

Jackie Budell, an Archives Specialist at the National Archives has meticulously researched Emma’s twenty-year struggle to obtain and maintain a pension for her husband’s service. It is far too long to repeat here so I will merely refer readers to her article entitled, “Why William Carman’s Tintype was in his Widow’s Pension File.”

Suffice it to say that Emma may have had a checkered past and there is evidence that the home William and Emma kept at No. 4 Bath Street in Baltimore before moving to Philadelphia may have been disreputable too. I was able to find an article published in the Baltimore Sun on 15 February 1858 in the “Local Matters” column that was titled, “Another Murderous Affray—Four Men Stabbed and One Shot” described as “one of the most sanguinary affrays without resulting in the death of either of the parties that has occurred in this city for some time.” The article describes the drunken attack and stabbing of William Carmen by his brother Thomas. “The house is occupied by a man named William Carman and his wife, and is notorious as a place for the resort of the dissolute.”

Letter 1

Camp Hamilton
Fortress Monroe, Va.
July 1st 1862

My dear and affectionate wife,

It is with pleasure I write to you to let you know that I am well at present and hope these few lines will find you the same.

We left Harrisburg about a week ago and [have] been traveling ever since. I arrived in Baltimore the same day and seen Tom Carman and George Elliott and Reddy also. Went and seen my mother. She didn’t know me. She took me for Jack and began to cry. But Tom knew me and told her that it was me. He has two fine children. I hadn’t many minutes to stop with them. I was on guard, We left Baltimore the next day in the steamboat for Fortress Monroe. Got there the next day and we have been busy ever since…

We were mustered in for pay today and soon as we get pay, I’ll send you some money. Tom and Mother send their love to you and Josephine. Write soon as you get this and let me know how you are getting along.

Direct your letter to Fort Hamilton, Fortress Monroe, Va.

— William Carman

Letter 2

Harrison Landing, James River
July 31, 1862

Dear Emma,

I received your letter last night and was glad to hear that you was well. I wrote two letters to my Mother and I got two. She says that she has received a letter from John. You know her John is the brother that was in Richmond. He has been a soldier in the Richmond army. He is married and got two children. Tom is enlisted in the Navy. You must write and let me know all that is going on in the city but don’t send me nothing—only what I write for.

We are under marching orders and now more boxes are received at the landing. You must tell me in the next letter whether the relief money has stopped or not and also send me a sheet of paper in the letter. I was very glad to find the postage stamps that I wrote for. The five cents I bought some tobacco with. I wanted it very bad.

I hope by the next letter I write to you that I will be able to send you some money and if they pay me all, I can send you a good sum of it.

I send my love to you and Josephine and Harriet and Sam. Tell Sam we expect to go to Washington. Give my love to all my enquiring friends. No more at present but remain your husband, — William Carman

Direct as before. William Carman, Co. A, 115th Regt. P. V., Patterson’s Brigade, Hooker’s Division, Fortress Monroe, or elsewhere.

Letter 3

Harrison’s Landing
James River
August 8th 1862

Dear wife,

Your kind letter come to hand last night. Was glad to hear that you was well. I also received one letter from my Mother. She says that she ain’t very well at present. Tom thinks he will come to Fortress Monroe. If he doesm he will have something to do.

On last Monday evening we had orders to march about half past four o’clock. We marched nearly all that night till we came to a place called Malvern Hill. Here we sat down and rested for an hour, then got ready for to go into the field for a fight. Our men marched up bravely. The fight lasted one hour. The artillery and gunboats done all the work. Our men were only drawn up in line. The shot and shell fell very thick for awhile [and when] the Rebels could not stand it any longer, they retreated. We took two hundred and fifty prisoners, five hundred head of cattle, killed and wounded about fifty. There was some of our men killed and wounded—about twenty-five. We stayed there all that day and all that night nearly when we took up the line of march for camp. We arrived next morning. There was nobody hurt in our regiment.

The men are all well except some few. We have the same Captain [Patrick O’]Murphy 1 yet. We are under marching orders all the time but don’t know where we will go but it makes no difference where I go. I will write to you if I live and when you don’t hear from me, you may just assure [yourself that something is the matter. I haven’t [received] no pay since I enlisted—that is the 4th of April. The pay master is paying off our division now. It won’t be long now before we get paid. When you write to me, always send me a sheet of paper and stamp and envelope.

I am well at present. Give my love to Mrs. and Mr. Wallis and to Fred and Frank. Tell them that I ain’t forgotten them. Also to Tom Richardson and also to you and to Josephine. No more at present but remain your husband, — William Carman

Send me twenty-five cents if you can spare it in your next letter but I hope to be paid before it reaches me.

1 Patrick O’Murphy served as the captain of Co. A, 115th Pennsylvania Infantry from the time the regiment was mustered into service on 21 April 1862 until he was discharged on 25 June 1863. From William’s letters it does not appear that O’Murphy sent much time in the field with his company.

Letter 4

Alexandria, Virginia
Sunday, September 14th 1862

My dear and affectionate wife, Emma Carmans,

Your kind letter came to hand last night and I was glad to hear that you was well. We are still encamped near Alexandria but there are nothing new going on here at present. We don’t know how long we will stay here. I also received a letter from my Mother. She says things is very dull in Baltimore. She got a letter from Tom. He is on board the United States Steamer now laying in Norfolk, Va.

Dear Emma, I am very much obliged to you for sending me the silk and needles, Also the stamps and paper for I hadn’t none for to write on. Give my love to Josephine. Tell her that in 48 hours after the pay master comes, she will receive it. We are expecting him every day now.

Dear Emma, I send my best love to you. Also give my best respects to Mr. and Mrs. Wallis and to Fred and Frank. Tell them that I am well but I feel very sassy at present. No more at present but remain your affectionate husband, — William Carman

Please send me three envelopes as I haven’t got none. I have paper. Direct your letter as before.

Letter 5

Camp Hooker near Alexandria, Va.
September 23rd 1862

My Dear Wife,

Your letter I received this day after coming into camp after a week’s absence and was glad to hear that you was well at present but I was very sorry that I could not go to Philadelphia on account of having no money.

Dear wife, you speak about Fanny the dog. I suppose he thought he would see me for I ought to have been there at the same time because I had a furlough for one week and couldn’t get no further than Washington. There I had to stop on account of having no money. There I remained a week till it was time for me to go to camp.

The first day I got in Washington I come across my old friend, Robert Rainey, and I stopped at his house the whole time. He sends his best respects to you. When I was in Washington, I went three days to the General Paymaster Office for to see our paymaster and they told me he was paying our regiment but he ain’t come to camp yet. But I hope he will be here this week for I am getting tired of waiting for him.

I am very glad you seen Capt. O’Murphy. I suppose he told you all about the [Second] Bull Run fight. Give my respects to Fred and Frank. Tell them that I am well. Also to Mrs. and Mr. Wallis [Wallace?] and to Mrs. Laws. I don’t hear anything about the regiment that James is in at all.

Tell Josephine that I hope to send her present next week if the pay master comes.

Letter 6

Camp Hooker near Alexandria, Va.
September 24, 1862

Dear Wife,

After writing my letter, I received one from my sister bringing me the melancholy news of my Mother’s death. She died on Sunday, half past three o’clock which makes me feel very sorry. I was the only one she wished to see. My sister got a letter from me just in time to read it to her before she died for she was looking every minute to hear from me before she died. There wasn’t one of the boys at home to see her.

I send my best love to you and to Josephine. Also to Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. Also to all my inquiring friends. Give my respects to Harriet Laws and Ginny and Sissy. Don’t forget to give my respects to Fred and Frank. Tell them that they must write.

Dear Emma, please to send me a few postage stamps as soon as you can for I have none at present. I think we will be paid this week or the first of next. No more at present but remain your husband, — William Carman

Direct your letter to me, William Carman, Co. A, 115th Regt. P. V., Patterson’s Brigade, Washington D. C. , or elsewhere.

Letter 7

Camp Hooker near Alexandria, Va.
September 29, 1862

My Dear Wife,

Your kind letter dated 26th inst. came to hand on Saturday night and I was glad to hear that you was well but I feel very sorry to think that the people impose on you since I left. But dear Emma, try and keep quiet till I get paid and if I get all that is coming to me, I will send you the biggest half of it and then you be careful how you spend it because we don’t get paid when we want to.

Dear Emma, when I was in Washington, I didn’t enjoy myself one bit although I had all I wanted to eat and drink. But that didn’t satisfy me for I wanted to get home to see you and Josephine. If we don’t get paid this week, God knows when we will be paid. But anyhow, when I do get my money, I want you to buy Fanny as much meat as as she can eat.

Tell Josephine to have patience and wait a little longer for mine in nearly played out. You say that you wished that I had wrote for you to come to Washington but that would have been an expense for nothing. And besides, it would take a good deal of money and things is very dear in this place for they charge three prices for one. All strangers have to have a pass from the government to travel south while this war lasts. Some of the soldiers think that this war will be over this winter and God grant it may for I am got my full of it.

In your letter was five envelopes and three postage stamps and this sheet of paper. Also a ten-cent piece which I was very glad to see. It didn’t frighten me the least for I just wanted a plug of tobacco which made me very glad to see the ten-cent piece.

I wrote a letter to you to tell about the death of my mother which I don’t know whether you got it or not. It had no stamp on it. I have no more to say at present but I send my best love to you and Josephine. Also give my respetcs to all my inquiring friends.

Your husband, — William Carman

Letter 8

Camp Hooker near Alexandria, Va.
October 4th 1862

My Dear Wife,

The pay master has come and paid us and the men were all glad to see him but they didn’t get as much as they expected for they took some money to pay for the clothing they had drawn.

Dear Emma, I enclose you twenty-five dollars which five of it you must give to Josephine for the present I promised to her. I intended to send Josephine more but couldn’t. You can tell her [it was] on account of helping to pay the funeral expenses of my mother.

Dear wife, you must answer this letter as soon as you get it for I have a little more money to send you. I didn’t like to send it all in one letter for fear that it might not come to you. I want you to send me twenty-five cents worth of postage stamps and nothing else.

I had to send twenty dollars to Baltimore which leaves me five after I send you some more. We will get paid every two months now so the paymaster says and that won’t be long a coming now and I can send you more money. Don’t forget Fanny. Be sure to get some meat for her. I send my best love to you and Josephine. Give my best respects to Fred and Frank and to Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. You can tell them that I am well and if I live to come home, I mean to have a good time of it. No more at present but remain your husband, — William Carman.

Direct to me: Co. A, 115 Regiment P. V., Grover’s Division, Patterson Brigade, Washington D. C. or elsewhere.

Get your coal and wood for the winter and be careful that nobody cheats you in making change.

Letter 9

Camp near Alexandria, Va.
October 9th 1862

Dear Emma,

Your kind letter I received last night and was glad the money came safe to you. I was afraid that somebody might take the letter out of the bag before it did leave camp as there are a great many men goes to it for to put their letters in it. I knew that when it got to Mrs. Devine, it was all safe. The money I sent to Baltimore I have no answer yet but I hope it went safe.

Dear Emma, I enclose ten dollars more in this letter which I hope will reach you safe and soon as you get it, write to me without delay. I also send you six of them postage stamps back as some of them has been in use and the others have no gum on them for to make them stick. You go and take them back to the person that you bought them from and when you buy stamps again, go to the post office where you will get them right and you won’t be cheated.

Dear Emma, you needn’t to think of coming out here for we haven’t no accommodations here for ladies. And besides that, it is a good ways from Alexandria and none of our men are allowed to go to the town without a pass. If they do, they are picked up by the Provost Marshal and taken and put in the slave pen where they stay for two weeks before they get out.

We are under marching orders and we don’t know how long we will be here but I hope they will countermand them for I don’t care about going to fight anymore this winter. I would like to stay here or somewhere about the neighborhood this winter.

I am very glad to hear that Sam Laws is well for he must have seen a hard time of it.

Now Emma, don’t you go and spend all your money in furniture that ain’t one bit of use to you. It will be six or seven weeks before I get anymore but soon as I get paid again I will send you some more. Send Fred and Frank my best respects. Also give my respects to Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. You can tell them I am well, I also send my love to you and Josephine. And tell Josephine I was very sorry I couldn’t send her more of a present that I did. I have no more to say but remain your husband, — William Carman

Direct your letter as before.

Letter 10

Camp Kearny, Va.
October 15, 1862

Dear Wife,

Your kind letter I received last night and was glad to hear that it came safe to you with the money. I got a letter from my sister at the same time and she says that she hasn’t heard nothing from Thomas or John but soon as she hears from them she will write and let me know. John is in Wheeling, Virginia, and is married.

Dear Emma, we expected the rebels last night. We had orders to lay by our guns all night but the rebs didn’t come. They must have gone some other way.

Dear Emma, I am very much obliged to you for sending me the postage stamps and envelopes and I am very sorry that I haven’t nothing for to send you in return but as soon as I get paid, I will send you some more money which I hope won’t be very long. I don’t want you to send me anything for I don’t want nothing at present, but I feel very thankful for what you have already sent me. I am well and I hope these few lines will find you the same. You must giver my kind respects to Mr. and Mrs. Wallace and to Fred and Frank if you see him anymore. And you tell Frank that he won’t find sailor life like home.

Dear Emma, I send my best love to you and Josephine. Is Josephine doing anything now or is she living home with you. Reason I ask the question, I seen her name in one of the Baltimore papers where she was to dance. I haven’t no more to say at present but give my respects to all my enquiring friends.

Very respectfully your husband, — William Carman

Letter 11

Camp Van Lear, Virginia
October 29th 1862

My dear Emma,

Your kind letter come to hand and I was glad to hear that you and Josephine was well. I am very much obliged to you for your kindness for sending me the postage stamps and paper. I have enough to last me some time and I don’t want nothing else now at present.

You say that you would like to come down here but you take a fool’s advice and stay home for this is no place for ladies for there ain’t nothing but men and boys down here and some of them ain’t got no manners about them whatever. Besides that, it would be a great deal of trouble and expense for nothing. You would have to get a pass just as a negro before you could go anywhere and there ain’t no accommodation whatever for there ain’t no place that you could stay at night at and it is very disagreeable weather just about this time of the year for the roads are knee deep with mud. We have had a very rainy week of it.

“You needn’t to take this likeness around for a show nor laugh at it for the man that took it [did] the best he could out here.”

Dear Emma, I can only send you my likeness but if there are any way of getting a furlough or [my] getting to Philadelphia this winter, I will try to come. You needn’t to take this likeness around for a show nor laugh at it for the man that took it [did] the best he could out here.

Give my respects to Mr. and Mrs. Wallace and to Fred. Also to Cody Carlson when you see him. I would like very much to see Fred and Cody. I haven’t heard nothing from Baltimore since I wrote you last. Don’t neglect Fanny.

We will be mustered in for pay in a week’s time. I send my love to you and Josephine and very much obliged to Josephine for her kind offer but I shan’t write for nothing at present. Write soon as you receive this. No more but remain your husband, — William Carman

Direct your letter as before. Let me know how Sam Laws is when you hear.

Letter 12

Virginia
November 22 [should be November 2], 1862

Dear wife,

Your kind [letter] I received this morning after three days marching in the rain. I am well at present but I am very sorry that you have been sick.

We are on our way to Aquia Creek. Our General [Frank] Patterson shot himself this morning about daylight. Nobody knows the cause of it. 1

No more at present but remain your husband, — William Carman

I send my love to you and all my enquiring friends. You must excuse this for it is raining and we have no shelter to get under to write. Send a few stamps for I have only one.

1 Patterson was at Catlett’s Station when he withdrew his brigade upon hearing unconfirmed reports of a Confederate troop presence nearby. Sickles accused him of retreating without orders and called for a military board of inquiry to court-martial him. However, on November 2, Patterson was found dead in his tent of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Initially it was not clear whether his death was accidental or a suicide. But an article in The Baltimore Sun from 29 November 1862 cites an eyewitness, Capt. Vreeland of the 8th New Jersey Volunteer Infantry who was with him in his tent at the time. Vreeland states that Patterson “committed the act while under a temporary insanity … so suddenly was the rash act committed that (I) could not stay his hand.”

Letter 13

Bristoe Station, Virginia
November 5, 1862

Dear Emma,

What is the matter you don’t write? I would like to hear from you.

We expect to have a battle soon. The whole army is moving towards Richmond. I am well at present and we will get paid in a few days. The weather is very cold and it is snowing very fast at present.

I send my love to you and Josephine and to Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. Also to Fred and Cody Carlson. No more at present. Your husband, — William Carman

Direct your letter the same as you always did and I will get them. I will send you some money soon. Find enclosed 3 stamps. They are damaged. Take them where you got them. Let me know how you like the likeness.

Letter 14

Virginia
November 15, 1862

My dear wife,

Your kind letter dated the 8th inst. came to hand and I am glad to hear that you are well. We have been on heavy marching ever since the first of the month. My instep hurt me very much. We have just camped. I don’t know the name of the place but it is in Virginia. I can see the Blue Ridge Mountains very plain. We won’t be here long.

Your letters I get sometimes on the road as we march along but we can’t answer them always. Direct your letter to Washington the same as you always do.

Dear Emma, I thought that you were sick or locked up in my imagination that I didn’t hear from you sooner. We expect to have one of the greatest battles that ever was but I hope it will be a failure for they won’t let us settle down nowhere and I am tired for I want to go into winter quarters.

We expect to get paid this week. I will send you some money. Do you get the relief money yet? I send my love to you and Josephine and to Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. Also to Devin and all his children.

Give my best respects to Fred and Cody Carlin. Also don’t neglect Fanny if you have moved. No more at present but remain your husband till death. — William Carman

I am glad you are fixed for the winter. Send me the number of the house. Captain O’Murphy is in Philadelphia yet.

Letter 15

Camp near Fredericksburg, Va.
November 30, 1862

My dear wife,

Your kind letter dated the 20th inst. came to hand this morning and I am glad to hear that you are all enjoying yourselves. We have been on the march ever since the first of the month. We are near Fredericksburg, Virginia. Here we expect to have a great battle before long. I think they will shell the city before they can take it. The rebels are on one side of the river and we are on the other.

The weather is very nice but I don’t think I can get home for some time yet for our pay master ain’t made his appearance yet. I wish he would come so I could send you some money before Christmas.

Dear Emma, I wish you would send me twenty-five cents and soon as I get paid I will send you some money.

Our pickets talks to one another across the river. There are three hundred thousand rations drawn here every day for the soldiers.

I send my best love to you and Josephine. Also to Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. Give my best respects to Fred and Frank. Also to Cody Carlin when you see him. I haven’t hear nothing from Baltimore yet.

Write soon as you get this and don’t forget to send me twenty-five cents for I want to get some tobacco. No more at present. Your husband, — William Carman

Direct your letter as before.

Letter 16

Camp Front of Fredericksburg, Va.
December 7, 1862

Dear Emma,

Your kind letter I received this morning and I am very sorry to hear that you were sick. The papers all came to me and the stamps. Please send me one small piece of tobacco in the next papers you send me so I get it this day week.

There is a young man in our company named Allen who told me that his son would come out with Captain O’Murphy in about two weeks and his name is Allen. Lives at 505 Catherine Street. He will call to see you. You can send me one pound of chewing tobacco by him so I get it by Christmas and two handkerchiefs of cheap cotton. That is all. I will send you the money U get as soon as I get paid.

I am very glad you are fixed comfortable and I would give most anything to be home for this kind of soldiering is enough to kill the Devil. We have nothing comfortable whatever. It is very cold, snow on the ground, and nothing but a blanket to cover with, hardly any tents. My fingers is very cold writing this.

I hardly know what to say. Don’t forget to send me a piece of tobacco in the next paper.

Dear Emma, I am well at present and I hope when these few lines reach you, that you will be the same. I send my love to you and Josephine. Send me a small piece of tobacco every time you wend me the newspaper. Put it inside so it won’t be seen.

Letter 17

Camp near Fredericksburg, Va.
December 25, 1862

Dear Wife,

I was glad to receive your kind letter and paper. Also the letter paper and stamps you set to me. And I feel very glad you have seen Captain O’Murphy and Tommy Allen wrote to Captain O’Murphy and told him in his letter that he wasn’t in the battle. That is all true enough for he was with the doctor about three miles from our line when we were under fire and had to retreat back. It was one of the hardest fought battles we have had yet. Men that had been in all of the battles said it was—-just at this moment the Sergeant brought me another letter dated the 22nd inst. from you. Don’t send me no gloves for I have got a pair from the government. Don’t rob yourself to send me anything. You can send me a pipe as I lost the one you bought me and the handkerchiefs. Don’t send me any more papers that cost 8 cents for it is too much to pay for them.

I have been very sick since I wrote to you last but thank God, I have got well once more. This is Christmas Day and all we have for breakfast is one cup of coffee and hard crackers is all we got. It is a very poor Christmas for the soldiers. They can get nothing for love nor money for there are no places to buy anything.

You can give my best respects to Captain O’Murphy when you see him. The men would all like to see him. Our Col. [Robert Emmet] Patterson ain’t been with us for some time and I don’t think he will be with us anymore. Our Colonel’s name is [William] Olmstead now. 1

I send my love to you and Josephine and soon as I get paid, I will send you some money. There is four months pay coming to us and I think if we stay here we will get paid. I hope we will. Give my respects to sister Wallace and to Mr. Wallace for I think often of them. Give my best respects to Fred and tell him I hope I will see him some of these days. The weather was coudy this morning but it has turned out to be a fine day and I hope you all had a happy Christmas. Goodbye till you hear from me again, — William Carman

This is some of the paper you sent me.

1 Lt. Colonel William Omstead commanded the 115th Pennsylvania at the Battle of Fredericksburg due to the absence of Col. Patterson.

Letter 18

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
January 10th 1863

My dear wife,

Your kind letter I received about a week ago and one paper and a plug of tobacco you sent me and it was very good. The only thing the matter with it was it didn’t last long enough. You said that you would go and see Capt. O’Murphy that the relief company had sent you a card to be signed and if he didn’t sign it, you would send it to me. But I suppose he signed it. I would have wrote to you sooner but I was waiting to hear from you about the card. You must try and learn when Capt. O’Murphy is coming out so I will get the tobacco he has. I don’t think he will be out here for some time and if he don’t come soon, you can get it and send it by Express if they will bring it. Also send me a pipe to smoke.

Our lieutenant is sick and he is going for to leave us and go home. I think he got enough of soldiering. 1

I wrote in the last letter to send me the Inquirer or the Sunday Dispatch whenever you could. They are cheaper than those other papers and just as much news in them. I send you a letter I got from my sister which you can read, Fred Edwards is very lucky in getting home.

I am well at present and we expect to get paid soon and I will send it to you for I know that you must want some money. I send my love to you and Josephine and to sister Wallace and to Mr. Wallace. I think of you all every day and night.

Mrs. Devine is very good to you in answering your letters. Give my best respects to her. Please send me a postage stamp in your next letter as I haven’t none. No more at present but remain your affectionate husband, — William Carman

1 Probably 2nd Lieutenant William H. Lechler who was discharged on 30 January 1863, although 1st Lieutenant Michael J. Dunn was also discharged on 11 February 1863. John Blair was promoted to 1st Lieutenant from Commissary Sergeant on 1 May 1863.

Letter 19

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
January 16, 1863

My Dear Wife,

Your kind letter dated the 10th inst. I just received this morning and I was very happy to hear that you was well. I received the tobacco you sent me and was very glad of it. We are now building our log cabins for to go into winter quarters but I don’t think we will remain in them very long.

Dear Emma, I know it is very hard to get money and it seems harder to me that they don’t pay the soldiers so they could send their money home to their wives. But as soon as I get paid, I will send it to you for I know you must want it now. It is nearly five months since they paid us and I think it is pretty near time that we were paid as they promised to pay every two months which they don’t.

Don’t forget to send me the pipe. If Capt. O’Murphy don’t come out soon, you send it by mail in a paper. Get a nice light one like the one you got before and I am a thousand times obliged to you for sending me the twenty-five cents and four postage stamps for I had none.

I am well and send my love to you and Josephine…No more at present but remain your husband till death, — William Carman

P. S. If Captain O’Murphy ain’t out in ten days time, you will please send the pipe to me by mail and fill it full of tobacco so I will have a nice smoke when I get it and be thinking of home at the same time and the one that is so dear to me.

Letter 20

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
February 9, 1863

Dear Wife,

Your kind letter reached me this morning and I was glad to hear that you were well. I also got the paper and tobacco and the postage stamps and I am very thankful to you for sending them to me. Our pay master ain’t paid us off yet but soon as he does, I will send you some money for I know you want it.

Dear Emma, it is very hard to get a furlough in our company as we have no captain or lieutenant—they have all resigned—and we have nobody to command us now. I don’t expect to see Capt. O’Murphy out here anymore. The only ones that get furloughs is those that are sick in the hospital and only one man out of every hundred is allowed to go home. I would like very much to come home for about ten days but I don’t think I can at present. I think we will go to Washington very soon as the army is moving every day and if we go to Washington, I will let you know. There might be some chance of getting home then.

Dear Emma, give my best respects to Samuel Laws and tell him I am glad that he got home and I would like to be home to see him but I hope it won’t be long before the war is over now.

I got a letter from Baltimore telling me that Tom was in the Navy Hospital at Portsmouth, Va. [N. H.] sick. I meant to send it to you but I lost it. I send my love to you and Josephine…No more at present but remain your husband, — William Carman

Letter 21

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
February 17th 1863

My dear wife,

Your kind favors came to hand this morning and I am always glad to hear from you and to know that you are well and also I hope that Josephine will take good care of herself and save her money and not spend it foolish for money is very hard to get now—even when earned. For my part, I think they treat the soldiers very bad for they only pay the men when they see fit where they ought to get paid every two months. However, don’t send me anything more that will cost so much postage till I send you some money which I hope won’t be very long.

We are still in our log houses yet. We expect to move shortly. We have very little time for ourselves as our company is very small—only 12 men. I heard from Capt. O’Murphy yesterday saying that he would leave on Monday night at 11 o’clock for to take charge of his company but I don’t think he will. The weather is bad for it is snowing and I got to be out all night.

Dear Emma, I’m very much obliged to you for sending the handkerchief but I would [have] liked it much better if it had been colored. But it is a good handkerchief.

You give my respects to Sam and tell him I am very glad he has got home.

I send my love to you and Josephine…No more at present but remain your husband, — William Carman

Letter 22

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
March 1, 1863

Dear wife,

We got mustered in for pay yesterday and we will get paid about the middle of this month and then I will send you some money so you can get what you would like. I dreamed the other night that [our dog] Fanny came running into the tent to me and I couldn’t get her out. I got a letter from sister which I enclose to you.

Dear Emma, please send me an envelope and a sheet of paper in your next letter. I am well and I hope these few lines will find you the same. You must excuse me for not writing more for I ain’t got time for we have to go out on picket and it will be four days before we get back to camp again.

I send my best love to you and Josephine…No more at present but remain your husband, — William Carman

Letter 23

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
March 14th 1863

Dear Wife,

Your kind favors I received and was glad to hear from you and all of my friends and would like to be at home for to see you all once more but we have no captain and we have no chance to get a furlough at present. But soon as we get paid, I will try to get one for ten days. There are very few men get furloughs in our regiment. They are most all officers that get them.

Dear Emma, I heard from [brother] Thomas. He has got home but didn’t get no pay yet. He says he is going to work. He sends his best respects to you and Josephine.

I think we will move soon as it is all the talk but we don’t know where. We are kept very busy. Hardly any time to wash a shirt. We are all the time doing something. The roads is very bad. I will have to stop for I got to go after wood. I send my love to you and Josephine. I will send you some money next week if the pay master comes. Give my best respects to all my friends. I’m very sorry that Frank Spicer drank himself to death. If he had been out here, he might have been living yet. I don’t drink any more. No more at present but remain your husband, — William Carman

I think you may look for some cash in your next letter.

Letter 24

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
March 23, 1863

Dear wife,

I received your kind letter and was glad to hear from you and all my friends and to know that you are well.

Captain [Patrick] O’Murphy is out here but hasn’t taken command of his company yet. He come on the 14th of March. His leg is very bad. I don’t think he ever will be able to take command of us. I would have wrote sooner but thinking the pay master would be here every day so I could send you some money. I hope by the time this reaches you that I may be paid for it has been seven months since I got any money and I know that you must stand in need of some. No more at present but I send you my love to you and Josephine….Very respectfully your husband, — William Carman

P. S. I also send my best respects to Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. Some of the soldiers is betting that the war will be over in two months but I hardly think it will. Write soon as you can and let me know how the times is in Philadelphia. No more. — William Carman

Letter 25

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
April 11, 1863

Dear wife,

It gives me great pleasure to have the chance to write to you and let you know that I am well at present, hoping these few lines will find you the same. I haven’t much to say but I would like to be home and see you for it seems to me a long time and it will be as long again before I get my discharge.

Our regiment has been just eighteen months in service but I will try to get a furlough soon as the pay master pays us. He ought to have been here long ago but hasn’t come yet. They will owe me eight months pay this month and I think it very hard that we don’t get paid. But I hope they will pay us soon now as they say they will.

Mr. Allen’s little boy is out here with Capt. O’Murphy and will leave for home next week and will call and see you.

Dear Emma, please send me two or three postage stamps as they are hard to get here and as soon as I get paid, I will send you some money for I know you want it for it vexes me every day for to think that they don’t pay me. I only can send my love to you and Josephine and all my enquiring friends. No more at present, but remain your dear and affectionate husband, — William Carman

My letter hereafter will be directed to you as Mrs. William Carman.

Letter 26

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
April 17, 1863

Dear Wife,

I received your letter with the likeness last evening as we were getting paid and was glad to hear you are well as I am to be able to send you some money. I send you $30 by Adams Express which you will call and get at the Office as soon as you receive this. I would have sent you more but we did not get paid in full. We are to get paid every two months from this time.

We are to march every hour and know not where we are going to. I am on guard and cannot get a chance to write myself.

I cannot send it by Express so I will enclose it in this letter. I am well as usual. Yours, &c. — Wm. Carman

Write soon. Very seldom I get ink.

Letter 27

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
Monday morning, April 27, 1863

My dear wife,

Your kind letter I received and was glad to hear you got the money I sent you. They didn’t pay me only one half that was coming to me. If they had paid me all, I could have sent you seventy-five dollars but as it is, I couldn’t. They say they will settle up with me the first of January but if I live I will be home before that. I didn’t keep no money for myself for I knew that you must stand in need of all I sent…

We have got to go on picket this morning at 7 o’clock and it is near that time. Now write soon as you get this. No more at present but remain your husband, — William Carman

Thee is no news yet but expect to mover every hour.

Letter 28

Hospital 2rd Division, 3rd Army Corps
Potomac Creek
May 16, 1863

Dear Wife,

I received your letter of the 30th yesterday. I was wounded in the Battle of Chancellorsville on the 3rd of the month by a gunshot in the left hip besides three slight wounds on the same leg. I am in no danger and not much pain. I expect this hospital will be broken up and we will be sent to our respective states in a short time.

You mention that you sent me a handkerchief and some papers, I have not got them yet.

Out of our company we lost 2 killed and three wounded and two missing. I will close by sending my love to you and Josephine. I hope to see you soon. I remain yours, — Wm. Carman

Write soon. Direct to the regiment. I will get it.

Letter 29

[written by some hand other than William’s]

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
Hospital about a mile from camp
May 29th 1863

My darling and affectionate wife,

I received your letter this day by my friend Thomas K. Allen which I am glad to hear that you are well and in good health. Thanks be to God, I am in good spirits myself. My wound is getting better. We expect to be going to Philadelphia in a few days. They say that the regiment will be going home to recruit again and take the sick to Philadelphia where they will be treated better than they are here.

We expect to be paid 3 months pay on Monday. I will send you some home then…I have no more to say to you at present but I hope that I will be home soon. Mr. Allen is well and all the boys—only the two that was killed—[Patrick] Ward and[Richard] Thunder. God be with them.

I am your affectionate husband until death, — William Carman

N. B. Goodbye but not for ever. Kiss this in memory of me.

Letter 30

[written by some hand other than William’s]

Second Division, Third Corps Hospital
Near Aquia Creek, Va.
June 6th 1863

Dear Wife,

I write these few lines to you hoping to find you in good health only I am not out of bed yet. My furlough I have ready to put in and I hope to get home in a few days. There was two of our regiment went home this day. I have not received them handkerchiefs. I do not know what is the reason, I do not know. Thomas K. Allen is here doing duty at the Provost Marshall’s. He is a great comfort to me. He comes twice a day to see me. Tell his wife he is here and tell her to direct her letter as the directions of mine. I have no more to say to you at present. Hoping to be able to see you before long. Give my best respects to Mrs. Diven and all friends.

I have no more to say to you at present but I remain your affectionate husband until death, — William Carman

10th Missouri (Union) Cavalry, Widow's Pension Application

1864: Dennis Beale and Jacob Shofler to Susan (Reese) Parker

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An early war image of Joseph Edward Parker
(provided by Tim Parker)

When looking for information about your Civil War ancestor, do not overlook Pension Records. Not only can they often provide vital information such as marriage records, names of children and their birth dates, death records, &c., but if you’re lucky, they might even include letters that were written by the soldier himself or by members of his company who wrote of his death. But why would a grieving mother or spouse part with original letters (in the days before copying machines)? Sometimes they were necessary to prove a marriage to the Pension Bureau, or that the death occurred while in the performance of official duties in the service, or that the family relied upon the soldiers wages.

Little was known about the death of Sergeant Joseph Edward Parker of Co. D, 10th Missouri (Union) Calvary when his descendant, Tim Parker, went searching in the Pension Records of his ancestor. But what he found more than answered his questions.

Born about 1830 in White County, Tennessee, Joseph was the son of Thomas Parker and Lucinda Satterfield. He came with his parents to what is now Reynolds County, Missouri, by 1832 and the family settled near present day Bunker. He was married to Susan Reese on 8 March 1849 and by the time of the Civil War, the couple had several children.

Joseph served throughout the war and reenlisted as veteran in January 1864, serving most of his time in Tennessee and Mississippi. He was known to have been killed by a rebel guerrilla on 4 August 1864 by the Wolf River near Memphis, Tennessee, but the particulars of his death were not revealed until the pension records were searched and the following two letters were found—one written by Sgt. Dennis Beale, and the other by his tent mate Sgt. Jacob Shofler. 

Dennis Beale (1838-1928) was a native of Pennsylvania. He enlisted originally at Chicago to serve in Bowen’s Battalion of Cavalry and was attached to the 13th Illinois Infantry. He later transferred to the 10th Missouri Cavalry and mustered out on 11 October 1864 at St. Louis.

Jacob Shofler (1839-1917)—(or “Jake”) was a native of Ohio who served as a sergeant in Co. D, 10th Missouri Cavalry.

Letter 1

Camp of 10th Missouri Cavalry
August 6th 1864

Mrs. Joseph Parker,

Madam, it grieves me to inform you of your husband’s death. Day before yesterday morning, he with several more of the company went to the river to water horses and while watering, a Rebel who had evidently been in ambush shot him in the right side, killing him almost instantly. It surly is a sad occurrence and the company mourns his loss. He was a good and brave soldier, ever ready and willing, and in him [we] lose one of the best soldiers. His final Statement will be forwarded to Washington D. C. as soon as the captain returns from the scout. His effects here also will be sent to you upon his return to camp. You will have to apply to the 2nd Auditor at Washington D. C. to obtain his arrears. Any information you may want in the future in regard to his effects, etc., will be cheerfully given at anytime.

Respectfully your obedient servant, — Dennis Beale, Sergt. Commanding Detachment Co. D, 10th Missouri Cavalry

Letter 2

Memphis, Tennessee
August 30, 1864

Mrs Susan Parker,

I seat myself to answer your request of me as a friend. Your request was to know all about your husband’s death. I will inform you all I can.

Mr. Parker and I staid in the same tent and in the morning, I and Mr. Parker went to wash saddle blankets at Wolf River. And after he was done washing blankets, he went to wash his horse and I went to wash my handkerchief. [I was] sitting on a log by the side of him and a Rebel came on the opposite side of the creek and the first word he spoke, he said lead that horse out, and Mr. Parker said, “For God sake, Jacob, there is a Rebel,” and I cast my eyes up and I saw him with his gun up to his face. And [when] Mr. Parker started to run and the Rebel shot, I said, “Don’t run, the Rebel is gone,” and the only words he spoke was, “I am dead.” After running some 30 steps after being shot, I went to him as soon as I could and I told him to raise his head, and I saw he was very weak. I said to him. “I will go to camp and get the boys,” [so we could] carry him to camp and he was so weak that he could not speak. And then I started to camp and I met two of the boys coming to water. I sent them to camp and I staid with him till the company came and took him to camp. The creek was so deep that the Rebel could not cross it. We had him well taken care of and nicely buried. Mr. Parker was liked by all of the boys in [the] company. That is all I can tell you of his death.

No more. — J. Shofler

to Mrs. Susan Parker

Widow's Pension Application, Widow's post-war struggles

1868: Louisiana (Wilson) Nunn to Alexander Turney Stewart

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This poignant 1868 letter was written by 42 year-old Louisiana, or “Lou”, (Wilson) Nunn (1826-1910), the widow of Sgt. Daniel Lafayette Nunn (1827-1862) who died of typhoid fever in the hospital at Cairo while serving in Co. G, 63rd Illinois Infantry. In her letter to Alexander Turney Stewart (1803-1873)—the American textile merchant whose dry-goods store grew in to a giant wholesale and retail business in New York City—Lou shares the saga of her efforts to provide herself with a livelihood for herself and two daughters, Harriet N. (b. 17 Oct 1849) and Ida M. G. (b. 18 July 1854) since her widow’s pension of $8/month had proven woefully inadequate. Military records reveal that Sgt. Nunn entered the service on 1 December 1861 at Robinson, Crawford county, Illinois, and that he was mustered in on 10 April 1862 only to die some ten weeks later on 21 June 1862. See letter 1 in Pension File pertaining to Daniel’s cause of death written by Lou Nunn.

“I have worked almost day and night, saved and economized every way in the world, sometimes I give up in dispair but ralley again.” — Louisiana Nunn

From the pension file we learn that Louisiana and Daniel were married on 3 January 1849 in London, Laurel county, Kentucky. Daniel was a carpenter by trade and just prior to the Civil War, had his own wagon and carriage shop in Somerset. Kentucky.

In March 1879, Louisiana married a harness maker named Cornelius Holden (1806-1898) and took up residence in Humbolt, Coles county, Illinois. The couple later purchased land in Whitley county, Kentucky, where they farmed on 200 acres. After Cornelius died in 1898, Lou was able to reinstate her monthly widow’s pension which she had lost upon her 2nd marriage. Her monthly pension of $20 was finally terminated in 1910 when she died.

To his credit, the wealthy Alexander T. Stewart gave handsomely to benevolent causes but his public notoriety most likely made made him a target for thousands of letters of this nature.

Transcription

Champaign County, Illinois
October 10th 1868

Mr. Alexander Turney Stewart
Sir,

You will be very surprised to receive a letter from a total stranger on such business as this in on. But I hope that you will have patience to read it over carefully.

In the first place, I will tell you who I am and what I am. Then if you look favorably on my wishes, I can give you the best references our place affords. I am the widow of Daniel L. Nunn of the 63rd Regiment Illinois Volunteers who died at Cairo June 21st 1862. We come from Somerset, Kentucky October 1st 1861, forsook home, property, friends, and every comphert for our Country & its cause. My husbon had a wagon and carriage shop, and a grocery store all in full operation. He had ben raised a farmer but he had the head and ability for a business man. He was also raised a Democrat but I had no trouble turning him to the right side. I never dared argue a point with him but I would argue with others in his presence—in that way kept him all right, for a good woman can always have a good influence over a man.

But I have aggressed from my object. When the Union men of Kentucky was forbiden to drill on Kentucky soil by Governor McGloflin, my husbon was among th first to go over the line to Indiana to Camp Joe Holt. He drilled there three months. The day that they was sworn in to Government service, his captain gave him a discharge on account of bad health so as soon as he come home, he was elected captain od a company of home gardes. They was talking of organizeing a camp at our place (which they did in a few days after I left. I left the day before the Wild cat Battle was fought; Zolocougher fought his next battle with Hoskins across the Comberlain river, right over my house). Judge Bromlet—afterwards Governor Bromlet—had organized Camp Dick Robinson in opposition to Governor McGloflin’s orders. Then next they was talking of organizing one at our place, a little town (Waitsborough) on the river, which they afterwards did.

They designede giveing Mr. Nunn a Loutenant’s place in the company to be raisede there. Some advised me to leave there but others to remain. Our Sherif was a strait out Reble. Mr. Nunn & him had always been good friends. So he sent me word not to let any one perswaid me to remain for we would have as hot times their as any where: so we did, and that, I had taken too decided a stand not to be made a target for some villion. I knew that it was so. We had the Post Office, and while Mr. Nunn was gone, I had the full charge of it. I would allow no man to speek a word of treason in the office and had made some 3-4 men leve the office. So I left. Mr. Nunn remained under promise that if he got sick before he was sworn into government servis that he would come to this state; then go from here if he was needed. He did so. The result was that he died in the Illinois servis. We sacrafisede or left every thing that he had in Kentucky and by the time that my hunbon died, I was out of money.

Mr. Nunn volunteered in the Southern parte of the State but he was not willing for me to live there. So to plea him, I movede to the northern parte of the State. I failed to receive the sympathy of the people as I would have done had he volunteered here. They acted as if they thought us a Humbug because we come from the South.

I studyed money plans to try to make a living for myself and children. I finaley seteled on keeping a millinary store but I had no capital to invest and it made it slow work, having to depend almost entirely on doing repairing work and never failed when the season was at its hight to give out, and be down sick the balance of the season. So I worked for three years trying all the while to find someone to let me have seven or eight hundred dollars to build me a neat little house. I wanted to get the money and give a mortgage on the house until it was paid for. But no. I went to a Mr. Harris, the welthaest man in Champaign County, said to be worth between two and three hundred thousand dollars. I told him that I wanted to find someone that was willing to let me have the money without interest if I could and give them a mortgage on the house and obligate myself to pay it as fast as I drew my pention for that was my only chance. My pention was not anough to pay my house rent but I knew that if I once got it into a home, I then could begin to enjoy the good of my pention which is the price of the life of my dear husbon. But he would not tuch, unless he knew that the whole world could have known of it. Then he would have let me had it.

I then went to the different lumber yards to see if they would let me have lumber and pay for it as I drew my pention. But no. I then got a friend to write to a lumber merchant at Chicago stating my case and see if he would let me have lumber on them terms. So I sent a bill for lumber. The very next day I was taken sick and lay sick for nine months; not able to earn anything and no one helping me. But I never suffered for there was a poor grocer keeper that knew me and let me have everything that I wanted on a credit. There their was a pay day comeing some day. The next thing was where was the money to come from. The lumber was only a small item. I sent for one of our hardeware merchants, told him how the matter was, and what I wanted of him. He let me have all I wanted from his establishment on time. I then sent for a glasier with the same success. Next came lime sand and workmen. After I had tried several other places, I thought of a Mr. [Frank] Finch that owns a flower mill in Champaign—a man worth 40-50 thousand dollars, a bachelor supporting a widowed mother , a widowed sister and two children. I sent for him, stated the case to him. He said that one of the mill hands was building a house and had been disapointed about money. He had told him to go ahead. He should have money untill his house was ready to live in. Now he said to me, go ahead, I should have money untill my house was ready to live in and I did. But when the house was so that a familey could live in the lower parte of it, I was not able to be movede to it. So it was rented for 4 months. But I never got my rent.

I am in the outskirts of the town where I can raise my chickens, pigs, and garden which brings its own labor for I found myself nearly 1 thousand dollars in debt—grocery bill, doctor bills, and all. In the last three years I have worked almost day and night, saved and economized every way in the world, sometimes I give up in dispair but ralley again. I have heard so much of your generosity that I have been tempted a number of times to apply to you for help in the way of a few hundred dollars. Then I would get afraid that you would not help me. (Then [I thought that] I would ask your wife for a few of her cast off garments for myself and children, for I have cut over everything for the children until I have nothing hardly left for myself—garments thrown to one side, worked over here would look quite nice) for I would suffer, even perish before I would ask alms, or even hint that I needed, to those that are bound to know how I have to struggle to live. Fer I have a proud, high-minded, enterprising spirit.

“I am 5 feet high, waying 100-106 lbs., so you see that I have not got an iron constitution. But I have got an iron will—a determination to conker every difficulty and ride triumphant over every foe. The neglect that I feel on account of my poverty seems like an iron heel crushing out my soul.”

—Lou Nunn, 10 October 1868

I am 5 feet high, waying 100-106 lbs., so you see that I have not got an iron constitution. But I have got an iron will—a determination to conker every difficulty and ride triumphant over every foe. The neglect that I feel on account of my poverty seems like an iron heel crushing out my soul. But I am determined with God’s goodness and will to ride triumphant over every slight.

I have two children—girls, both emerging into womanhood. The oldest one is in her eighteenth year with misserable health for 4 years past. She is the image of her Father, tall and a beautiful round form and full face that sickness does not affict much only by taking away the colar. She has a natural tallant for music and ough to go to a Musical Colloge. I have given her two terms of lessons on the piana. She can compose beautiful tunes. She has composede two this week. I think one of them as prety a thing as I ever herd. She calls in Grant’s Victory Waltze. Both are good. If I had the means of educating her, she could soon support herself.

The other is 14 years old with little or no education. The education of both is quite limited for I have had to keep them at home sometimes to help me. But most comonley for the want of proper clothing and books. We are a spirited high-minded set. If they can’t feel that what they have on is half way deacent, they won’t go. By that means they don’t often get out. A strainger to see my girls out would take them to be highley accomplished and educated for the ability is there, I asshure you, if it is never cultivated. They will soon be too old. I have been trying for the last two years to go South and see if I can’t gather up something of our lost estate. But I can never command the money for my honor is out for my pention to go on my debts and I lack about three hundred dollars of being out of debt.

Now I have got a plan for a big speckulation in my head. There is a thirty acre track of land that my house is on joining the town plot. I think that it can be bought for ten thousand dollars. The new rail road runs close too it. Now if I could borrow the money of you and give you a lean on it to secure you, then throw it out in too town lots and sold immediately out, which I think could be done right away, it would rase me above want the ballance of my days. I have been on the point of writing to you to see if you would not fit me up with a dry good store on commishion. I have got to strike some kind of a breese so that I can get along without so much harde labor. People tell me that I look 20 years older than I did six years ago. I can realise it myself. But I have had to go through hardships anough in that time to make anyone look old, much less a frail being like myself. Therefore I should love o get something that I could find rest for my poor wearied boddy and brain.

Now I have given you a small sketch of myself or history so that you can form an ideah of woman that applies to you with perfect confidence for help, beliving that she will get it in some form or other. I wish you to bair in mind that I feel that it is no desgrace to work at any kind of labor that is honest if I am onley able to doo it. In short, I think it an honor for people to know that poor people to work for what they get for they have to have a living—honest or dishonest one.

If I could be contented to live like a hethan, I could get along. But I can’t. I would have went raving mad if I had not succeeded in geting me a home. I had always ben uste to a good home.

My mother was killed when I was 4 years old. My first step mother was an amicablem good woman. The second was as mean as the Old Nick would have her. Se married my Father for his money, then led him a miserable life. He went security for a man that took the benefit of the bankrupt lone and then left my Father the debt to pay. In the heat of it, my Father died and by rascality his property all passed from us. The property is now worth over one million of dollars. That is harde to bare. Still we must bare it.

Please to answer this immediately if you possabley can and let me know in what way you are willing to help me. I would rather have the money to buy the land if agreeable. If your wife has cast off garments, they would any and [all] be acceptable as we have got almost out of everything that is to ware or keep us comphertable. Hopeing to hear from you soon, I am very respectfulley, — Mrs. Lou Nunn

1 The following letter was found in the Pension File, written by Lou Nunn at the time she was attempting to prove her claim in August 1863.

Campaign Cty, Ill.
August 17, 1863

Mr. [Joseph H.] Barrett, [Commissioner of Pension Office]
Sir,

It is impossible for me to send you a Certificate from any of the surgeons in the hospital for Capt. Stanford wrote me tat all the surgeons and physicians that was connected with the regiment at the time of his death have all left the regiment long ago. And I know not where to find them.

As to the disease he died with, if you will take the trouble to go to the hospital as I did, and see the poor boys brought their, emaciated from a diarrhea, brought on by drinking all kinds of miserable stuff at Cairo (and the whole city under water except the barracks and grade) then brought to the hospital, and stuff Quinine down them until they loose their hearing, turn people, have a burning fever, and suffer a great agony for a few days and die. I should like to see the doctor that could five it a name. And still such is the disease that 5 tenths of our poor boys die with. I could find none in the hospital of a different cast to that and I have seen a great many set home, all with the same disease, far away from those that love them, and would take care of them to be neglected by those that have the care of them them. Such is the poor soldiers’ lot. Still our Government must stumble over such trifling points and let the widdows and orphants suffer and starve for their just rights now the Husband and Father can no longer assist them.

I lay sick last winter for a long fever and lingered a long time. I had to borrow money on my government prospects to live on so that when I got my money from the auditor which was $128.90, it was all gone in 36 hours to lift notes and it will take 50 dollars out of the pention that is due me to clear me of debt. (Their, I have added it up—it is 70 dollars). So you see my [ ] will be small, but it is better to have it in my hand than to pay interest on borrowed money.

As to the marriage certificate, it answered the auditor’s purpose. I can’t see why it won’t yours. It ust be an over sight in the new clirk, not to attack the county seal. I will send back to Kentucky for another copy. It is doubtful a bout my getting it soon as the Rebbles are in that parte of the State almoste constant. It frets me constant to think here, I am so dependant on others. When I had a comphertable little home in Kentucky it it is not destroyed. But the Union Army, or the Rebble Army are one or the other their almost constant around it. I fear that their is not much of it left being right on the ferry where the cross the river. Excuse my long preamble.

Respectfully, — Mrs. Louisiana Nunn

16th Massachusetts Infantry, Andersonville Prison, Widow's Pension Application

1865: William Johnson Dale to Albert H. Blanchard

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This letter was written by Dr. William Johnson Dale. Born in 1815, he was sent to North Andover, Massachusetts—his mother’s ancestral home—for schooling at Franklin Academy. He later went to Andover and graduated from Harvard in 1837 and then Harvard Medical School. He married Sarah Frances Adams. A physician in Boston, he was significantly wealthy by 1860 when he was practicing medicine in Boston. During the Civil War, he joined the service, rising to the rank of Brigadier General where he served as Asst. Surgeon General of the US, and following the War, became Surgeon General of Massachusetts. For these services he held the title of General for his lifetime. After the war, he returned to his ancestral roots of North Andover, purchasing the old Johnson farm, which had been in his family since 1637. Here he developed a model farm specializing in milk production.

William Johnson Dale

Dr. Dale wrote the letter to Dr. Albert H. Blanchard of Sherborn, Massachusetts.

The letter pertains to an apparent attempt by Abbie M. (Leland) Taber (1839-1926) of Sherborn, Massachusetts, to obtain a widow’s pension for the service of her husband, Thomas Taber (1835-1864), a corporal in Co. E, 16th Massachusetts Infantry when he was taken a prisoner-of-war on 26 November 1863 during the Battle of Mine Run. . The pension file shows evidence that Thomas enlisted as a private on 13 July 1861 and that he died at Andersonville Prison on or about the 9th of October, 1864 from “scurvey and want of food and proper treatment” while in the hands of the Rebels. Abie was married to Thomas on 18 October 1858 at Sherborn and together they had two children, Frank (b. 1859) and Willie (b. 1861).

Thomas’s death seems to have been confirmed by a statement given by a comrade who was confined in Andersonville Prison named Michael Brady. His sworn testimony is presented beneath the transcribed letter in the event anyone is interested in the details of Thomas’s death.

This short note to the Pension Office which was included in Abbie’s application hints at the frustration, anxiety and anguish she must have experienced in the long silence from her husband: “It may not be necessary but I will add this statement—that my husband Thomas Taber volunteered for three years in August 1861 (in 16th Mass. Regt). He was a prisoner of war eleven months—the last five of which he was at Andersonville, dying there October 10 or 11, 1864, about three months after the regiment was mustered out. For the last seven months, I knew nothing of him.” [Widows Pension File]

Transcription

Commonwealth of Massachusetts
Office of Surgeon General, Boston
January 7, 1865

A. H. Blanchard, Esq.
Sherborn, Massachusetts
Dear Sir,

I have the honor to inform you in answer to your communication of December 14, 1864, a memo of which we put on file, that we have a report of the death in Rebel Prison at Andersonville, George, of Thomas Tarbox, Co. E, 16th Mass. Vols. October 19, 1864. We have examined the muster in rolls of Co. E, 16th Regiment on file in the Adjutant General’s Office and find that there is no such name as Tarbox on those rolls. we regret to inform you that in our opinion this name is wrongly reported by the exchanged prisoners who furnished our agents with the information and we think the report may mean Thomas Taber instead of Tarbox.

we asked the Editor & Reporters of the Boston Herald (which paper published an account of Taber’s death) where they obtained the information but were unable to ascertain that fact. We would recommend that you address Lieut. Col. Gardiner Tufts, Mass. Agent at Washington D. C. who perhaps mat be able to furnish you with some additional information.

Very respectfully your obedient servant, — Wm. J. Dale, Surgeon Gen. Massachusetts