I could not find an image of Daniel but here is one of David Barlow of Co, I, 15th North Carolina (Photo Sleuth)
These two letters were written by 22 year old Pvt. Daniel Wilson of Co. H, 15th North Carolina Infantry. Daniel enlisted on 15 July 1862 at Raleigh and was with the regiment until September 1, 1862 when he became ill and was hospitalized in Richmond. Though one entry on the muster rolls of his regiment claims he died of his illness, another claims that his name was among the unwounded prisoners taken captive in the Battle of Crampton’s Gap on 14 September 1862 during Lee’s invasion of Maryland and later released at Aiken’s Landing on 6 October 1862. That same source suggests that he died of scurvy at about the time of his release from Fort Delaware prison.
Daniel grew up in the Northern Subdivision of Davidson county, North Carolina.
Camp Carolina Raleigh, North Carolina August 1st 1862
Dear Friends,
I write you a few lines to inform you that I am well at present. We arrived at Raleigh on Thursday about 9 o’clock in the morning and we came all the way in the rain….
Me and Spaugh’s boys are together and have left [illegible] for Constantine. It is supposed that we will leave in a day or two. The Forsythe Regiment [21st N. C.] came here night before last and left last night for to go to Richmond. Several hundred left yesterday.
I have not anything of any importance to write now for we cannot see anything for we are guarded all round. Last Sunday night about 150 run away and they only got four of them—that is captured. They send them to Richmond so fast. There is nothing here but conscripts and they are all calm so far as I have seen.
I want you to remember me in your prayers for you know I have a bad chance but I am determined to serve the Lord and if I never see you no more, I hope to meet you all in heaven. Please write to me when Henry Mock comes if Constantine [Hege] can’t come with him. Read this and think of me. Yours truly, — Daniel Wilson
Letter 2
Richmond, Virginia August 11, 1862
Dear Friend,
I again take my seat to write you a few lines to inform you that I am well so far and I hope these few lines may find you all well and serving the Lord and when you pray I will ask you all to remember me [illegible] till death, whether it be long or whether it be short. My determination is to serve the Lord while I live thought I am thrown into trials and troubles and difficulties here. But I know if we trust Him who has suffered and died for us, He will deliver me out of them although it appears with the most of them as if they had no God to serve, nor hell too, playing as much cards in one day I don’t before.
I tell you, a camp life is a hard life and nobody believes how hard it is until they try it. And if I had my time over again, I should stay at home just as long as I could. If I woulda just a stayed until Soloman and Constantine [Hege] woulda come, I would be better satisfied for I am afraid they wont get with us tho I hope they will. But if Constantine is gone and he don’t come to us and he writes to you, I want you to write to me where he is. But if he is at home, tell him to stay there just as long as he can for it is a hard change here.
We have left that camp near Richmond. We left last Saturday morning and marched 15 miles down on James River. We landed here last evening. We stopped and rested several times and yesterday morning we landed within a half a mile of this place and then we stopped there until evening. We had nothing hardly to eat all the time we were a marching and not much no time, but when we were in camp, we get flour enough but we have got meat half the time. The hardest work that I ever done is to march in this hot country and carry a load for the dust is nearly shin deep and you can hardly see one another for the dust.
We are now getting closer to the Yankees than I want to be. Last night after we got here, I saw the Yankees raise a balloon. 1 They were a spying when I saw it. It was a standing still a little ways above the tree tops. It waved about a little, then it went down. I don’t now how far it was but it didn’t look larger than a bushel basket to me and I saw the smoke boil up from the steamboat close to the balloon. We have got to throw up breastworks close to the James River. I don’t know how soon they will fight for we heard the cannons last night and this morning one after another and I don’t like to hear them.
I tell you this part of Virginia looks bad for everything is torn to pieces nearly. All along where we came, there is camps and the timber is destroyed and there is not many people settled but negroes—there is plenty of them. We are now in a field of about 20 acres that the wheat was not cut and it looks like as if it was good. There is a house close to the camp but the yankees taken [ ] and there is nothing there but negroes now and everything looks desolate. The water is tolerable good but it is unhandy to get. It is nearly a half a mile to carry and we have nothing to carry it in but canteens and it gets warm before we get it here. There is vegetables comes in camp but they are very large apples [and] 50 cent per dozen, butter 1.25 cents per pound, eggs one dollar per dozen, chickens from 1.00 to 2.00 dollars a piece, and other things in proportion. I don’t know how long we will stay here for I expect we will be bomb shelled before many days we have not got any guns yet and have not drilled but little yet. But I expect they will try to rush us in if we get guns and they do fight here. But I hope they may bring this war to a close before long for I tell you, I am tired already.
I have heard that Colonel [Zebulon Baird] Vance is elected in North Carolina. I hope that we will get some leading men that has got some respect for the people of our land though I don’t now what he is for. It is hard to trust any man these days for money is all they care for.
I should like to hear from you now. I must soon come to a close for my mind is bothered so that I cannot form a letter together, there is so much fuss in the camp and there is no shade—only in the tents, and we have not got any tents yet only we put up some of our blankets to stay under. But when it rains, they don’t do much good. All the volunteers went over here have got tents.
When this you see remember me though for away. I have wrote you two small letters and I hope I will receive an answer before I write again. Direct your letters to Richmond Virginia Company H, 15th N C Regiment, in care of Capt. Stone.
—Daniel Wilson
1 Daniel places this tethered balloon ascent on 10 August 1862. Thaddeus Lowe’s Balloon Corps were known to be deployed with the Army of the Potomac at Harrison’s Landing where the aeronauts operated from naval vessels along the James River in July and apparently August. McClellan’s army began departing Harrison’s Landing on 14 August 1862, just three days after this letter.
I could not find an image of Joseph but here is Pvt. Charles Bosher of Co. B, 125th New York Infantry (Photo Sleuth)
This letter was written by 19 year-old Joseph A. Alexander who enlisted at Lansingburg in August 1862 to serve as a private in Co. C, 125th New York Infantry. The 125th did not get off to a very auspicious start in the war. Rushed to Harper’s Ferry without much drill and preparation, they were among the 11,500 Federal troops surrendered to Stonewall Jackson in the Antietam Campaign. The men were then sent to Chicago under parole until they could be exchanged in November 1862 at which time they were sent to join the Washington D. C. Defenses and encamped near Centreville, which Joseph mentions in his letter.
During Lee’s second invasion of the North, the 125th New York had an opportunity to redeem itself in the Battle of Gettysburg where they lost 139 men killed and wounded, including their Col. George Willard. Mortally wounded in the fight was Co. C’s Orderly Sergeant, 28 year-old George S. Moss, who is also mentioned in this letter. Moss took a shell fragment in the groin, wounding his penis, scrotum and thigh. He wanted the fragment removed but according to nurse Cornelia Hancock, the delicate surgery was postponed until 8 August 1863 when the fragment was finally removed without much difficulty but the patient likely died from an overdose of chloroform. (see A Soldier’s Friend)
We learn from Joseph’s letter that he missed the Battle of Gettysburg due to an illness that resulted in his hospitalization but when they finally released him to the Convalescent Camp—where he had his money stolen out of his pocket while sleeping, he quickly decided he would rather return to his regiment than enter the Invalid Corps. Unfortunately for Joseph, he was captured again during the Mine Run Campaign in December 1863 and he died in Andersonville Prison on 27 June 1864.
Joseph wrote the letter to his father, William A. Alexander—a brush maker in Lansingburgh—and his wife Laura, both emigrants from Nova Scotia.
Transcription
Camp 125th Regt. New York Vols. Near Warrenton Junction, Virginia August 16, 1863
Dear Father & Mother,
I take my pen in hand to write a few lines to you to let you know how and what I am doing. I have got quite smart and have returned to the regiment. I got to it last Monday all safe. I have done no duty yet. I got paid at the hospital all in money. I did not get any allotment.
I went from there to the Convalescent Camp. They put me in the Invalid Corps. I could not get a chance to send my money to you so one night I went to bed with my money all safe and the next morning I got up and felt in my pockets to see if it was all right but it was all gone. It had been taken out of my [pocket] by some their and I was very sorry so I concluded to go to the regiment. I only stayed there but three days when I started off. I did not want to belong to that Invalid Corps. I want to be with the boys so that when. Come home, I may come with some honor.
The boys was glad to see me and they said I was foolish for coming but I don’t think so. We have got marching orders to have three days rations in haversacks to be ready to march at any moment’s notice. I don’t know where we are going to. Some say we are going towards Washington but I don’t know how true it is. Some say we are going to Charleston. I hope it is true for I would like to witness the fall of that place.
The weather is very hot down here and must be the same up your way but for [my] part, it is more healthier here in the open fields where we can get the fresh air than being in the close cities. I think I can stand it to go with the regiment for they (the old troops) say that this campaign was the hardest they have went through. They are going to fill up [the regiment] with drafted men up to its full maximum number.
There is a great cry down South for peace and I think it is time for them to look and reflect of what they have brought upon themselves.
I want you to send me some money and postage stamps as quick as you get this for I want it. James is well and with the company. He sends his love to you. I sent a company record to you at Washington. When you write, let me know if you have got it.
I have been informed of the death of Orderly Sergeant George S. Moss. He died from the effects of his wound received at Gettysburg. If this be true, the company regrets the loss of him for he was the best sergeant we had in our company. While we was in Centreville, Col. [George] Willard thought a great deal of him, His wound was very bad. That’s what the boys told me when I got to the regiment.
I received a letter from you when I was in the hospital but I did not get time to answer it. I must conclude by sending my love to grandfather and mother, and brothers and sister, and all enquiring friends. So goodbye.
From your faithful son, — Joseph A. Alexander
Co. C., 125th Regt. N. Y. V. 3rd Brigade, 3rd Division, 2nd Corps Washington D. C.
An unidentified Indiana Soldier (Indiana Historical Society)
This letter was written by Joshua Hickman Perfect (1843-1864), the son of Joshua H. Perfect (1815-1882) and Sarah Jane Shields (1822-1843) of West Point, White county, Indiana. Joshua’s mother died giving birth to him and not long after remarried his wife’s younger sister, Nancy Maria Shields (1824-1906). It fell to Nancy to raise her sister’s three children as well as the additional 12 children she bore of her own.
During the Civil War, Joshua enlisted at the age of 18 in November 1861 in Co. G, 46th Indiana Infantry. It was while serving with that regiment that he wrote the following letter in July 1862 from Helena, Arkansas. He was discharged from the 46th Indiana after two years service, and enlisted again at Indianapolis in Co. K, 11th Indiana Infantry, on 29 March 1864. He died of disease on 24 August 1864 and now lies buried in the Chalmette National Cemetery in Louisiana.
Transcription
Helena, Arkansas July 31st 1862
Dear Father & Mother.
It is with great pleasure that I sit down to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well at present and hope that these few lines will find you the same. We have got in camp here and I don’t know how long we will have to stay here. There is some talk of us going to Richmond and some think that we will go to Little Rock and some to Vicksburg and there is no telling where we will go to as yet. But I think that we will have to do some good marching before long from the appearance of things now. They are putting out teams and everything looks suspicious to me. There is reported to be 60 thousand men besides the Negroes. There is some 4 thousand of them and I think that when we leave here that the bushwhackers will have to skedaddle for we oughta make breastworks of the Negros and take everything clean as we go.
There is nothing of importance going on here. We are drawing our [money] today and I am going to send mine home though I don’t think that I will have too much to send home for we have to pay for all our clothes this time and I expect that we will come out in debt. I want you and mother to get yourselves and the babies likenesses and send them to me. I want to see them and see what the babies looks like and I want you to tell me its name. You have not told me anything about it yet and I want you to send me some shirts if Capt. [Robert W.] Sill comes home. Send me 4 and don’t send white. [Send] some dark collared calico or something easy to wash for Uncle Sam is getting too poor to keep his family in clothes. We have to do all the fighting and pay all expenses and clothe ourselves and he furnishes us some shingles to eat so I think that Uncle has good bacon and he can carry on business fine. I wouldn’t give a cent if I could get to kill some few chickens.
So now I have put all that I can think of so I will have to close for the present hoping that the war will end sometime [soon and] we will all get home. So no more at present but still remain your affectionate son till death.
— J. H. Perfect
To his father and mother. goodbye for the present. Write soon and don’t forget.
Willie Compton of the Harris Light Cavalry (card on reverse of image reads, “late of Co. H, 2nd N. Y. Cav., Middleboro, Stone Fence fight shot head off his horse. Now sleeps in a Southern grave, place unknown.”[Image in Pension File]
These letters were written by William Compton (1839-1863) of Co. H, 2nd New York Cavalry (a.k.a. “Harris Light Cavalry”). He wrote the letters to his father, Terrick Timbrook Compton (1812-1897)—or to his brother Francis (“Frank”) Compton—of Fountain county, Indiana. After Terrick’s first wife, Mary Ann Barshier (1821-1846) died in 1845, he married Mary Ann Neal in 1846, and then Ruth Herrel in 1849.
According to muster rolls, William enlisted on 3 August 1861 at Chambersburg, Orange County, Indiana, as a private in Co. H, 2nd New York Cavalry, to serve three years. He was killed in action at Middleburg, Virginia, on June 19, 1863. Sometime prior to his death he had been promoted to a sergeant.
Poor Terrick Compton lost all four of his sons in the Civil War. They were:
Pvt. Richard Compton (1837-1863) served in Co. D, 63rd Indiana Infantry; he was discharged for disability, came home and died on 17 June 1863. Pvt. John Compton (1838-1862) served in Co. C 17th Illinois Infantry; he was discharged for disability, and died before he could get home on 11 May 1862. Sgt. William Compton (1839-1863) served in Co. H, 2nd New York Cavalry; he was killed in action on 19 June 1863 at the Battle of Middleburg. Pvt. Francis M. Compton (1842-1865) served in Co. I, 154th Indiana Infantry; he died of disease at Harpers Ferry on 29 July 1865.
[Note: These letters were found in the Pension Files of the National Archives and have never been previously published to my knowledge.]
Letter 1
Washington [D. C.] September 3, 1861
Dear Father and Mother,
I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am well at present and hoping these few lines may find you well. We are all here enjoying ourselves very well. We have to drill 5 hours every day and I hate about soldiering. They wake me up too soon. They wake us up every morning at five o’clock every morning. I dreamed last night that I was back in Old Fountain [County] a cutting around [with] my old gal. I will not tell you anymore about my dream.
We have plenty to eat.
I seen sixteen rebels at Columbus, Ohio, as we come through. They came in while we was there. They was hard-looking bats, They was taken up Virginia somewhere by scouts. We was out on parade last evening. There was about twenty regiments out or there was not one out.
No more at present for I have a very bad place to write. You must write soon. Direct your letters this way:
William Compton Harris Light Cavalry Camp Oregon, D. C. In the care of S. McIrving
D. C. stands for District of Columbus
Letter 2
Virginia October 13, 1861
Dear Brother,
I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am well and I hope these few lines may find you enjoying the same state of health.
Frank, I will tell you something about the times here. I have to go and let my horse pick for we have no feed and I will tell you something more when I come back. I have got back now and my horse got a good belly full of clover.
We moved yesterday and we are [with]in a half mile of Munson’s Hill where the rebels was drove from there about two weeks ago and we are [with]in about nine miles of Bull Run where we heard that the rebels was a driving our pickets in last night and we was ordered to saddle our horses. I was asleep when they hollered at me and I thought it hard to get up from there and thought whether I should get my horse or not. I got up, rolled my blankets, and put on my saddle and sabers ad spurs and we was out about two hours and we was ordered to unsaddle and then go to bed.
It looks some like fighting here but I think there is enough here to clean them out very easy/ We have not got anything to fight with but our sabers. When we get our arms, we will make a charge on them.
We have got twelve dollars, sixteen cents from Uncle Sam and he pays every month. We have plenty to eat. I send my overcoat home by John Clickner and told him to leave it with William Gross at Chambersburg and you can get it. It will make you a good coat if you want it….
You must write soon for I like to hear from Old Fountain [county]. I would write more if I had time. No more at present. You can direct your letter the same as you did and they will come.
Still remain your brother, — William Compton
To Francis Compton
Letter 3
Camp near Munson Hill October 26, 1861
Dear Brother,
It is with great pleasure that I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am well at present and hope these few lines may find you all well.
I received your letter this evening and was very glad to hear from you all. Frank, I would like to know what kind of a tale that Wilse Riley could make if he says that he got an honorable discharge. You must ask him to show his discharge [papers]. He got his discharge one morning after breakfast. They did not hunt for him much for they thought he was not worth hunting for. Well, I guess I have said enough about a deserter.
Frank, I will have to stop for tonight for it is roll call and I will finish some other time. So good night.
Well, good morning to you, Frank. I have been on guard yesterday and last night and I don’t feel very well but I will be alright when I get to take a nap. We are talking of moving today but I don’t know whether we will or not.
Frank, I will tell you what a time we had last Tuesday. It was a raining all day here and about the middle of the afternoon we was ordered to saddle up. Our squadron saddled up and we was marched about two miles off in the country and we found a a oats stock and we brought it in and then when I was about to go to bed, they called me out to go with the wagons after feed and I didn’t care much for I wanted to steal something. Well, I got ahead of cabbage and four nice beets and lots of turnips.
Frank, you said there was plenty of wild turkeys there and you killed two but if I was there, you would stand but little chance for I could kill one every time at a 100 yards with my revolver. I was out the other day a trying how well I could shoot. I think I could kill a man every time at a hundred and fifty yards.
Frank, you said they was plenty of parties there. I would like to be there and show them how I could shake my old foot. We have a dance here every night but it don’t go as well as if we had some ladies here. I think I will be at home this winter some time and I want them to prepare themselves for big parties.
Well, I must bring my scratching to a close. You must write soon. So no more at present but still remain your brother, — William Compton
to Francis M. Compton
Letter 4
Camp Palmer, Virginia November 17, 1861
Dear Brother,
It ’tis with the greatest of pleasure that I take up writing to you to inform you that I am well at the present and hope [when] these few lines comes to hand, they will find you all well.
Frank, I sent fifteen dollars home with Jake Dice and I want you to get it and write to me when you receive it. You can lend it to anybody that is good and will give their note and good security but if you can let it out, do it, if it will make anything for me. And if I never come back, you can have it. But there is no such good luck as me to never come back there for all thunder could keep me from there.
Well, I must tell you something about my horse. He is about seventeen hands high and he will be 5 years old next spring and he is all horse but the tail and it is a sprouting. His ribs would make good washboards from the looks of him. I gave him a good currying last evening and I think he will get fleshy now. I have been a wishing we would get in a fight so he would get shot and then I think I could get another better one. If we don’t get in a fight soon, I will gouge his eyes out and then I know that I will get another one.
I am on stable guard today but that is not very hard. The hardest work we have is standing guard. I must tell you what a glorious time I had standing guard the other night. I laid down on the ground to take a snooze and when I waked up, it was raining like all thunder and the water was running all over me. I got up and shaking [my]self and thought nothing of it. If I had exposed myself at home as much as I have since I came here, I would have been dead long ago.
There is a good many of the boys sick now. There are six of the boys out of this company has went to the city hospital. There is only one that you know—that is Joseph Shumaker. Them that went to town has got the measles. John Cooper and Dave has been very sick. They’re at the hospital now but they are getting a good deal better. I think they will be able to come back to their tent in a day or two. There is about sixteen on our company sick at this time. I have had good health ever since I have been here—only when I was vaccinated and then I was sick for a day or two.
Mary, I send you those feathers to show you what kind we wear on our hats. Id I had a chance to send you one of them, I would be glad for I know you would fancy one of them very much. Mary, I would like to be there and take another dance with you and that other girl. I hope that you had a better time than we had that night when I was at home. I want you when you have another dance to let me know and I will come over and stay a week or two.
I guess I have wrote all that is necessary for this time. You must write soon. So no more at present but still remain your brother, — William Compton
To Francis Compton
Letter 5
Camp Palmer, Virginia December 8, 1861
Dear Father and Mother,
I take this opportunity of writing to you to inform you that I am well at the present and hope when these few lines come to hand, they will find you all well.
Father, I must tell you about our Grand Review that we had last Thursday. Uncle Abe was out to see us and he presented the Stars & Stripes to our regiment and we was very thankful to have them. we do nothing but go on reviews here. For my part, I would rather go into a fight than to go to a review. I don’t know whether we will get in a fight this winter or not but I don’t think we will. But when we get out on picket, maybe we will have a chance to get a shot at some rebel.
There was three of our boys out the other day on picket and one of them shot two men but they happened not to be rebels. They was Union men that went to try their sentinels. They let on like they was rebel cavalry [and] as they come up, it was very dark and our boys could not see who they was. They stepped to one side and said [they’s] shoot if they came any closer, so they Coe up a little closer and our boys let slip at them and shot one of them through the arm and hurt him very bad and the other one did not get hurt very bad. And when they come ups they said they had done wrong. When they fool with the hoser [hoosier?], they will run against a snag.
Mother, I was very sorry to hear that Mary had left you for I know you have too much work there to do yourself and I think Mary is as good a girl as you could get. I hope you will get one as good as Mary. Frank said that Naomi Beals was gone to live with you. I guess she is a very good girl for work.
Frank, I want to give you a little advice. I heard that you was a running with Lames’ girls and if you want to go in decent company, you had better not let anybody see you with them. I want you to go wit somebody better than them for I know you can, or I think you could if I was there. If you hear from John, you write to me.
I guess I must bring my few lines to a close for it is a getting near roll call. You must write soon for I like to get letters from home every week. So no more at present but still remain your son till death, — William Compton
Letter 6
Camp on the ford near Fredericksburg May 13, 1862
Dear brother,
John Cave, Co. C, 2nd New York Cavalry (LOC)
I seat myself down to write you a few lines to inform you that I am well at present and hope when these few lines come to hand, they will find you well. I just received your letter and was very glad to hear from you. Frank, I suppose you have of the little fight we have been in. It was on the 17th of April. We marched from Catlett Station to Fredericksburg, Virginia, and we drove the rebels before us for about twelve miles and we took several prisoners and we got one of our Lieutenants killed. We followed them till dark and then we camped till about one o’clock in the morning and then we was rousted up and we got our horses and started after the retreating rebels.
We went about five miles and we was fired into. by the rebels and we made a charge on them and they made their bullets fly pretty thick around our heads. They was several fellers shot right by the side of me. I thought I would be shot but I come out safe and sound.
Frank, I will give you the list of the killed and wounded:
George Weller killed, from Osborn Prairie Josiah Kiff, killed from Newtown Cyrus Romaine, wounded James Baker, wounded William Ranken, wounded Patrick Ambrose, wounded Lewis Crane, wounded Jacob McClean, wounded
This is the list of the killed and wounded in our company. Frank, you said that you was a going to lend my money out. I want you to keep it and don’t lend it out for I think I will be at home in a month or two and then I will need it. I set fifteen dollars more too but you you was gone and so old Josey Bever has got it for me and he will keep it till I come home. Frank, you can spend some of my money if you need it and then you need not take up your wages till you get done working and then it comes all in a bunch—that is, if the man is good that you work for, and I suppose he is from what you say. I don’t think wages is very high there this spring. I get fourteen dollars a month and then I make right smart a [ ]. We got paid a two weeks ago and I sent fifteen dollars to you and I have got about twenty dollars yet and they is about three months pay a coming to us yet. We are going to get paid in a day or two.
Frank, you must write soon and tell me about John and how he is and whether you have heard from him. Well, I guess I have wrote all I can think of at this time. So no more at present but still remain your brother, — William Compton
Write soon.
Letter 7
Sunday, June 29, 1862
Dear Father and Mother,
I once more take this opportunity of writing you a few lines to inform you that I am well and hope when these few lines comes to hand, they will find you all well. Father, the reason I did not write soon, I was waiting for an answer from you and I though that I would write again to you and see if you had. Well, I must tell you what a good time I have had. I was up at Alexandria and Washington and I got to see [brother] Richard and all the rest of the boys from around Old Fountain [county]. I was glad to see the boys. They all look well and I think they will make good soldiers. They all think they see hard times but I think that [if they] would come out and travel through the Virginia mountains awhile, they would think of hard times.
We have got back to Fredericksburg and I think we will go into Richmond or that is the talk now. We are seeing very good times. We don’t have to do everything now. We don’t have to drill any. WE don’t do anything but tend to our horses. Well, I must tell you about the crops. The corn is only about ankle high. They are cutting their wheat around here. The wheat is very good wheat, There is [lots] of it.
Well, I must bring these few lines to a close. You must write soon. So no more at present but remain your son, — William Compton
Letter 8
Camp near Fredericksburg, Va. July 24, 1862
Dear Brother,
I seat myself to write you a few lines to inform you that I am well at this time and hope when these few lines does to hand, they will find you enjoying the same health. Frank, I have not received any letter from you for a good while and I think you might write as often as I do. This makes the third letter that I have wrote and I have not received any answer yet.
Well, I must tell you a little about the times here. Everything is still here but the cavalry. We are scouting every day. We started out on the 19th and we was gone thirty hours and we went eighty miles in thirty hours. And we went [with]in thirty miles of Richmond and we tore up the railroad and burnt up what they call Beaver Dam Station and took several prisoners.. You better believe we had a big fire there. There was several barrels of powder in the depot and there was several boxes of cartridges in there two and a good deal of other stuff. You will see it I the papers better than I can tell you.
We just got in last night about twelve o’clock. We was on another railroad yesterday. We burnt up Hanover Station and done them a good deal of damage. We had several skirmishes with the rebels. We killed four of them. We had none of our men hurt. We burnt a rebel camp and took about forty horses and several prisoners.
Well, Frank, I want you to keep that money that I sent last for I am coming home the last of next month—that is, if I can get a furlough, and I think I can. It will cost me about fifty dollars there and back. Frank, I want you to write a little oftener than you do. So no more at this time but still remain your brother, — William Compton
Write soon.
Letter 9
Camp near Fredericksburg, Va. July 29, 1862
Dear Brother,
I once more seat myself to write you a few lines to inform you that I am well at this time and hope when these few lines come to hand they will find you enjoying the same health. Frank, I received your letter this evening and was very glad to hear from you. You say you have not heard from John since you left home. I received a letter from home a few weeks ago and they stated that John had got his discharge. I was very glad to hear that he has got out of the service. Frank, if I was out of the service, I think the government would have to be in a very bad fix if I went to help save it although I am here and I am a going to do the best I can.
I am a coming home next month—that is, if I can get a furlough. I heard from Richard last week and he was well. You said you did not know his captain’s name. His name is Johnson.
Frank, I would like to be there to some of them dances that you was speaking about. You must give my best respects to all of the girls around there. If I get to come home next month, I think I shall see some of them myself. I was glad to hear my money had got home safe. So no more at present but remain your brother, — William Compton
You must write as soon as you receive these few lines. So goodnight.
Letter 10
Harwood Hospital [Washington D. C.] October 1st [1862]
Dear Brother,
I once more seat myself to write you a few lines to let you know how I am a getting along. I have been sick for four weeks. I am a getting about well now except I am very weak yet. I think I will be able to go to the regiment the last of the week or the first of next. I am in the hospital at Washington. It is three weeks ago last Saturday since I are here and it seems like a year to me for it is very lonesome here and I hope when these few lines come to hand, they will find you enjoying food health.
Frank, I wrote you a letter the day before I came to the hospital and ain’t received any answer yet, but I expect there is a letter at the regiment for me. I ain’t heard from the regiment since I have been here. I wrote a letter to the Orderly last [week] and told him if there was any letters come for me, to send to me and I am looking for one today.
Frank, I will give you a little of my opinion of the war. I think the war will come to a close in less than three months. It is the report now that here is commissioners from the South that came as peace makers and I hope they will come to terms. For my part, I have seen fighting enough, but I think if they don’t come to terms, we have got men enough in the field to whip the hell out of them. The rebels thought they was sure of Washington when our army was a falling back [but] they did not know they was a running themselves into a trap. When Gen. McClellan got after them, he showed them where they was.
Frank, I have said enough about the war for this time. I want you to write as soon as you receive these few lines and I don’t want you to wait a week or two, and I shall be very prompt in answering yours. I want you to write every week and I will do the same as near as I can. You can direct your letters as you have heretofore. I want you to tell me all the news about the draft and how you are a getting along and whether you are working at the same place.
So no more for this time but still remain yours, — William Compton
To Francis M. Compton
Letter 11
Camp Manassas June 16, 1863
Dear Father & Mother,
I seat myself to write you a few lines to inform you that I am well at the present [time] ad hope when these few lines Coe to hand, they will find you all enjoying good health. I received your letter and was very glad to hear from you.
Well, Father, we have got back to the Army of the Potomac. We was in a fight on the [June] 9th at Brandy Station. It was a very hard cavalry fight. We had it hand to hand with the rebels. Our regiment made a charge and we had cutting and slashing. The fight was mostly done with the saver. The rebels is a marching to Maryland and we are after them. You may hear of some hard fighting soon.
Father, you say the Copperheads is plenty back there. I think if they would hear a few bullets whistle about their heads, they would think war was not the thing it was cracked up to be. You told me to not get discouraged. That is not my gripe. We lost five men out of our company, 2 missing, 2 wounded and Wheeler Mallett was wounded in the back and left on the field and we suppose him to be dead. If not he is a prisoner.
Mother, I am very sorry to hear that you are crippled. I would like to been there to that show you had there. Although a battlefield is a bigger show than all the shows that you can have there but maybe not such a nice sight.
Mother, I want to know who is doing your work. I must bring my few lines to a close for it is a getting night and we are expecting to move so no more but remain your affectionate son, — Wm. Compton
Write soon. Direct this way. Co. H, Harris Light Cavalry, Washington D. C.
William Compton
2 New York Cavalry, Company H Widow’s Certificate Pension 230113
RG 15
Records of the Department of Veteran’s Affairs
I could not find an image of John but here is a CDV of Fred Gilbert of Co. A, 17th Illinois Infantry (Photo Sleuth)
This letter was written by 23 year-old John Compton (1838-1862) of Delevan, Tazewell county, Illinois. According to muster records, John enlisted at Joliet in Co. C, 17th Illinois on 25 May 1861. At the time of muster, he was described as a single, 22 year-old farmer with light hair, sandy complexion, and grey eyes. He stood a little over five and a half feet tall. He claimed Hillsboro, Fountain county, Indiana as his place of birth.
He died of consumption on 11 May 1862 near Shiloh, Tennessee, just after he was discharged for disability.
John wrote this letter to his father, Terrick Timbrook Compton (1812-1897) of Fountain county, Indiana. After Terrick’s first wife, Mary Ann Barshier (1821-1846) died in 1845, he married Mary Ann Neal in 1846, and then Ruth Herrel in 1849.
The regiment’s history, from the time of organization up until the time of this letter is as follows:
Patriotic image on John’s stationery
After spending about one month at Peoria, engaged in drilling and making preparation for service, we were moved by steamboats to Alton, Illinois, where we went into camp and spent another month in drilling. About the middle of July we were transported by steamers to St. Charles, Missouri, thence by railroad to Warrenton, where we spent a week. The regiment was then ordered to St. Louis, where it became a part of the command of Gen. Fremont; and accompanied him August 1 on his expedition to Cairo via steamers. August 3 it went into camp at Bird’s Point, Missouri, and was engaged for about two weeks in building fortifications; was then ordered up the Mississippi to a landing about thirty miles below St. Louis, known as “Sulphur Springs”; thence by railroad to Ironton, Missouri, where the regiment was encamped for a short time. While here the officers of the regiment, about August 20, had the pleasure of meeting for the first time Brig. Gen. U. S. Grant, who had recently received his commission as brigadier general. From Ironton the regiment was ordered to move to Fredericktown, Missouri, and garrison the place, where it remained about a week; when, being attached to the command of Gen. Prentiss, moved under that officer to Jackson; thence to Cape Girardeau, reaching the latter place September 2, 1861. About September 10 the regiment was removed to the Kentucky shore opposite Cairo and aided in constructing Fort Holt. By this time Gen. Grant had established his headquarters at Cairo. From him came orders to Col. Ross to take his regiment, the 17th, the 19th, Col. Turchin, and the 7th Iowa, Col. Lawman, and a section of artillery and occupy Elliott’s Mills, a place about half way between Fort Holt and Columbus, Kentucky. This place, about twelve miles from Columbus, was named Camp Crittenden, and was held only four days when the brigade was ordered to fall back to old Fort Jefferson and soon after to Fort Holt, where work was resumed on the fortifications. This proved a very unhealthy location, and a large portion of being attached the regiment was very soon in the hospital.
[Note: This letter was found in the Pension Files of the National Archives and brought to my attention by Anthony Meeks.]
Letter 1
Peoria, Illinois May 27, 1861
Dear Father,
I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am well and hope these few lines may find you all in the same health. I have neglected to write until now. There is a regiment of us at this place all sworn in service under the United States. We are in camp at this place & ready for service at any time we may be called upon. I like soldiering very well. Peoria is a nice place. I wish you would come out to Peoria and see me. It would be a nice visit for you. If you can’t come, let William come. We may be [here] some months. we can’t tell how long. If you can come, do so. If you come, enquire for John Compton, a member of Captain Rose’s company. Please write soon as possible and let me know how things are going.
Direct your lettres to Peoria in care of A. D. Rose by this means our captain get s the letter for the company/
Your affectionate son, — John Compton
to T. T. Compton
Letter 2
Camp Mather 1 June 6, 1861
Dear Brother [William],
I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am well. I like to be a soldier very well. We have very comfortable quarters at Camp Mather. Discipline is very strict. We drill 3 hours in the morning, 3 in the afternoon. Tattoo is at nine o’clock—that means go to bed. Reveille is beat five o’clock in the morning—that is to get up. I don’t care about leaving this place until we get drilled some more and then let us speedily march to the enemy and wipe them from the face of the earth. Let the American flag never be hauled down by a set of rebels.
[Stephen A.] Douglas’ funeral will take place tomorrow and we will have a grand parade to be expected. 2
Francis or William, if you can come out and see me drill, [I would] be glad. Or any of you. We will not be apt to leave this place soon so try and come and see me. Please write anyhow and let me know how you all are getting along. You might write to me as well as not once a week.
Direct your letters in care of A[llen] D. Rose, Captain Company C. No more at present but remain your brother, — John Compton
to William Compton
1 Camp Mather was a temporary Civil War encampment established on Peoria’s Fairgrounds in 1861, Camp Mather was most probably named for Thomas S. Mather, the Illinois adjutant general.
2 Stephen A. Douglas of Illinois died on 3 June 1861.
Letter 3
Fort Jefferson Ballard County, Kentucky September 21, 1861
Dear Father & Mother
I once more take the pleasure of writing you a few lines to inform you that I am well and enjoying myself as well as could be expected. I received your letter of the 1st of September and was glad to hear from you all. I think you might write to me as often as once a week. I should like to write oftener but we are moving so much that I have not had much chance. The last time I wrote, I was on Bird Point but since then we have has a long and tiresome march through the State of Missouri and did not accomplish much. We are now in Old Kentuck within twelve miles of Columbus where there is a large rebel force and we expect to see actual service at any time. We will give them the best turn we can. I have no fear of getting killed although it may be my lot to be the first one. But if so, the cause is good.
You stated that William has enlisted to fight for his country if needed. I think it is the duty of everyone that can to go forth and fight for liberty. You spoke of someone going to bring the name I could not make out. I want you to write and tell me what regiment and the letter of his company he belongs to. We have had plenty of peaches to eat this season. We have always enough to eat when it can be had.
I have to go on guard so I will close my scribbling hoping you will write soon. Your son — John Compton
[to] T. T. Compton
Direct your letters to John Compton, Cairo Illinois, in care of A. D. Rose, Captain of Co. C, 17th Reg. of Illinois Volunteers
This letter was written by Joshua Piles (1823-1898) who served in Co. A, 168th Pennsylvania Infantry. The men recruited into this regiment rendezvoused at Camp Howe near Pittsburgh during the latter part of October 1862 where they were organized and mustered into service as a 9-months regiment. Muster rolls indicate that Joshua entered on 16 October 1862 with other members of his company under the command of Capt. Hiram H. Cree. He mustered out on 25 July 1863.
After service around Suffolk, Virginia, the regiment was sent to New Bern, North Carolina, in December 1862 where they remained until June 1863. During this time, they participated on the expedition to Little Washington to provide relief to the beleaguered Union force under siege there. This letter was penned in Little Washington while encamped there in May 1863.
Prior to his enlistment, Joshua and his wife Margaret Henderson (1830-1913) and their two children lived in Perry, Greene county, Pennsylvania, where Joshua worked as a semi-literate laborer/farmer. He was still residing there at the time of the 1890 Veterans Schedules, suffering from a disease of the kidneys and bladder.
Transcription
Washington, North Carolina May 8th 1863
Dear Wife,
I take this pleasure to write you a few lines to let you know that today find us all well and hearty and sincerely hoping that these few lines may find you all embracing the same blessing. Also to inform you that I received yours which was written April the twentieth and was very glad to hear from you all so to hear that you was all well and a getting along as well as what you are.
We have left New Bern. We left on the twentieth of the month or about that time. for the present time we are at Washington, North Carolina. It is the head of tide water navigation about the mouth of the Tar River about one hundred miles from New Bern but the way of water and about forty by land north. This is a very nice place here. We are the best situated here that we have been since we left home. We are encamped on a high piece of ground. Also we have got more tents and there ain’t so many in a tent which makes it more comfortable. There is only three and four in a tent.
We are a faring sumptuous for grub, the plunkiest that we ever had since we left Camp Howe. We don’t get much soft bread. The flour is here for us but we ain’t got our bakery fixed yet. We will get it done in a few days. We get plenty of coffee and bread, meat, beans, and rice, and sugar and plenty to wear—more than we want—and have plenty of money and no fast friends and White women plenty. This war is a perfect feast. Uncle Sam is able to feed and clothe us and we won’t grunt at it, and able to furnish enough good Union men to whip the South and be enough left to come home and hang all the Copperheads that is back there, if they don’t all go blind in dogs days and bite theirselves. They are so poisoned that their bites will be certain death. Their days will soon be done for they are a living on cornmeal which is ground cob and all together this is a true bill for we have been out on picket where they was and where they done their business. It just looked like hog dung—just about as course. And the cavalry took four of them. They had nothing in their haversacks—only meal cob and all.
We have to do picket duty one fourth of the time. We go three miles from cap and stay three days and nights.
For the want of paper, I must close. Write soon and give us the news.
These letters were written by George West (1857-1877), the son of Francis (“Frank”) Henry West (1825-1896) and Emma Rittenhouse (1829-1896). Those who follow Spared & Shared will likely recognize George’s father as the author of numerous letters I have transcribed and which can be found posted elsewhere on this website at:
It seems that young George West was a chip off the old block, perhaps inheriting his father’s restless spirit but not his physical prowess. He was described as a “handsome, intelligent boy,” whose father had no doubt impressed upon him that to be a successful, self-made man, one had to take risks. “The bigger the risk, the greater the reward,” he told himself. Despite his mother’s objections, 21 year-old George joined a party of men from Milwaukee going to the mining fields in the rugged Red Mountains of southwest Colorado. This area was only recently settled as described in the following brief summary of the early history of Ouray, Colorado:
The first mines were discovered at the Ouray site in 1875, and an initial settlement and mining district named “Uncompahgre” were established. The box canyon at Ouray was deemed an ideal town site, being spectacularly beautiful, relatively flat, sheltered from the worst of the winter weather, and warmed by numerous hot springs. The initial settlement was small and only a few men stayed for the winter of 1875-76. Transportation routes were not established at this time and the poorly-equipped miners almost starved before supplies arrived during the spring of 1876.
By early 1876, the town name was changed to Ouray and a permanent town started to take shape. Numerous businesses were started like hotels, stores, a blacksmith, and of course the center of every mining town – saloons. Many of these early businesses operated out of tents and log cabins and only lasted that first summer. Ouray was incorporated in October of 1876. In January of 1877, Ouray County was carved out of existing San Juan County, and Ouray became the county seat.
Early in 1877 the population of Ouray was reported to be over 400 residents. The town contained over 200 structures including log cabins, two blacksmiths, a school, a post office, a bank, two hotels, and too many saloons to count. The first newspaper in town, the Ouray Times, was published in June of this year. The population of Ouray had doubled to around 800 by early 1878. The 1880 census reported a population of 864. At this time the town boasted a water works, street lights, plank sidewalks, and graded roads.
The tragic tale of George’s adventure and of his demise is captured in this series of letters—four of them written by George himself, and the last five by others who lived in the area during the winter of 1877-78.
Ouray as it looked in 1877 (Ted Kierscey Collection)
Letter 1
Denver, Colorado April 13 [1877]
Dear Mother,
We arrived here last night after being on the road 60 hours—3 days and 2 nights. We put up at the Merchant’s Hotel where we shall remain until tomorrow morning when we take the train for LaVeta. We are getting a part of our outfit here but we shall get our provisions and mining tools at Del Norte or Saguache.
We do not know as yet whether we shall have too buy burros or go through with the freighters but we shall do the latter if possible. I enjoyed the trip across the plains immensely. They exceed in vastness anything a person ca conceive who has not seen them. The fences end about 100 miles west of Kansas City and after that there is nothing but an immense treeless plain, almost destitute of water. There is no one living along the line of the railway except a few herders who look after the large droves of cattle who roam over the vast country.
We had immense [fun] shooting at antelope from the car windows when we reached their range about 400 miles west of Kansas City. We saw them continually in herds from 5 or 6 to 40 or more. They would start up alarmed at the sight of the train and seemingly become confused and would [run] along parallel with the train, sometimes as near as 150 yards but usually ay from a quarter to a half mile distant. They ran with tremendous speed, easily keeping up with the train going about 30 miles per hour. I shot away about 60 cartridges from my rifle with a gross result of none killed as the distance and jolting prevented an accurate aim. I made some very close shots, however, and could have shot several had the train been stationary. I succeeded in shooting, however, a jack rabbit on the dead run before he reached his hole. We also saw a large colony of prairie dogs and several prairie wolves and deer. I will write again probably from Del Norte before we go into the mountains.
Your affectionate son, — George West
Letter 2
Ouray, Colorado May 14, 1877
My Dear Mother,
We arrived here last Thursday night after having been 19 days on the way from Del Norte and just one month out from Milwaukie. Our journey was one which for the latter part I have no desire to repeat. We left Del Norte on Saturday noon and reached Saguache the next day from which place I wrote home. From there out it was almost a continual pull over roads of whose badness you can form no conception unless you can imagine hills so bad that the horses could not pull the empty wagon more than 15 or 20 feet at once and so so muddy that we frequently had to dig out the horses to prevent them from miring in the mud out of sight. It was a constant state of unloading the wagon, and packing everything on our backs up steep hills and over muddy roads, often for a mile or more at a time. As we had about 2800 lb. on the wagon altogether, you may imagine what kind of a time we had, sometimes not making over one mile per day, making during one week over the worst roads only 7 miles.
When the wagon got stuck we would all get hold of the wheels and if we could not start the wagon and keep her agoing in that way, we would have to unload and carry everything on our backs and come back to help the empty wagon along until we struck better roads. We were twice snow bound by severe storms—once for a day and a half at the old Indian Agency at Los Pinos Creek near Cachetope Pass, and again for the same length of time at what is known as the Middle Cabin. During the latter stoppage we had a very exciting hunt after a panther or mountain lion as they are called here. The beast had killed an ox belonging to a freighter and the following morning we started on his trail through the deep snow coming twice in sight of him but were unable to get close enough to kill him as the snow—in many places 4 or 5 feet deep—made walking, much less running, nearly impossible. As it was, however, he exceeded anything I have ever seen in the shape of a wild beast.
We have walked about 300 miles since we left La Veta and have travelled about 700 miles in all. A person could easily have gone from Milwaukie to any prominent city in Europe and returned during the time it has taken us to get here. The weather with the exceptions of the snow storms has been very fine and although freezing hard every night, we have experienced no inconvenience in sleeping under our light tents or in the open air. It has been my province to do the cooking for our mess and I have done very well, the menu being of the simplest order—coffee, bacon & bread being the staple articles of diet with an occasional variation of beans. We have an iron bake oven resembling a flat kettle in which I bake the bread for which we use baking powder, setting the oven down on hot coals and covering the lid with the same.
We passed through the new Agency coming through the Indian Reservation and saw the Ute Indians. They are the finest looking aborigines I have ever seen, dressed in gaudy blankets and beads and painted with gay vermillion, passing their time in hunting and horse racing and in drawing their supplies from the Indian Agent. We passed the large mineral spring a short distance below here on the Reservation and had a refreshing bath.
I went to the Post Office as soon as I arrived here and found letters from both you and Father to my great delight. They had got here the same day as our arrival, and nearly all our party found letters awaiting them. There is only one mail per week here now but we shall have a tri-weekly or daily mail during the summer. This letter which I am writing will go out tomorrow morning (Tuesday).
I find Ouray the [most] beautifully located little town it is possible to imagine, shut in on every side by lofty cliffs and mountains that almost keep out the sun. With the Uncompahgre river rushing through the town, it seems a perfect paradise after our long journey. We have camped at the upper end of the town in a beautiful little grove of trees near the river and are about as pleasantly located as it is possible for me to imagine. Everything is animation here and the town is building up rapidly although the houses are all small frame or log structures as yet.
I enclose a letter to Father by this mail which will probably reach you at the same time this will. I have not got his letter directed to Lake City as we did not pass there but have written to the postmaster for it and I shall probably get it in a few days. I am delighted with the country so far as I have seen it and I have no doubt but what I shall so well from the beginning. I have much better prospects before me than I expected to find so soon as you will see by my letter to Father. I have enjoyed excellent health thus far and think we have the finest climate in age United States for invalids.
I shall expect to hear from you every week. Also from the girls. Tell Bennie and Grace to write to me and I will answer the letters. I want R to tell me how he is getting on at school and I will tell him an adventure one of our men had with a cinnamon bear. I shall write again next mail. Your affectionate son, — George West
P. S. Our writing facilities are very limited at present. I shall write in ink as soon as there is a bottle to be bought in town.
Letter 3
Ouray, Colorado May 14, 1877
Dear Father,
I found your very welcome letter here on my arrival last Thursday and have very impatient to send you a letter before this but there is only one mail at present per week which leaves tomorrow morning.
I have found Mr. Gooding to whom I had the letter of introduction and have nearly closed with him for the purchase of a half interest in 3 mining lodes he owns here and in a ranch on Cañon Creek 3 miles above the town. The mining lodes are without exception the best or among the best located claims in the district, being entirely within the town limits of Ouray on the Uncompahgre river within 200 yards of the proposed mill site for lixiviation works to be put in by an English company immediately. They have already begun making brick for their works in a brickyard below the town. The lodes are respectively, the Goodfro, the C. H. Weston, and the John Bull, for which he asks for one half interest $1,000.
The Goodfro he has been tunneling during the past winter and has taken out some fine pieces of ore. The vein is about 3 feet in width and seems from all indications to be a true fissure vein. He has just taken 8 tons of ore from this lode down to the smelter for a mill assay and will know in a few days how it runs. A small lot of the best ore, a few hundred pounds which he sold at the mill, ran 148 ounces to the ton. They are offering to buy 40 ounce ore at the smelter this summer. This he thinks can be readily taken out with a very little selection. The C. H. Weston is a large vein of about 6 feet in width. He has 2 men at work on it all along, running a tunnel to where it intersects the John Bull. The tunnel is already driven about 40 feet and there are very good indications of a paying ore in 15 or 20 feet more work when they strike the union of the two veins. The John Bull he has worked from the surface sinking a shaft a few feet but will work it from the tunnel below when they strike the intersection. These 3 lodes are close beside the well known mines—the Trout and the Fisherman. For these two lodes $30,000 was refused last summer. They are ranked among the best mines in the district and have been worked to a good profit from the beginning.
The ranch is located 3 miles above the town half way between Ouray and Mineral City. This M. Gooding wants to put under cultivation this summer for vegetables for the mines, with the exception of one other ranch which adjoins it below, it is the only tillable land between Ouray and Mineral. He has 4 men at work now clearing the ground and getting ready to put in the seed. I think we can get 15 acres under cultivation without a dollar of expense save for labour and provisions for the men. We need no machinery nor implements of any kind and with a force of about 6 or 7 men to clear the land, 2 men after that would be all the help needed. I think $800 or $1000 would be a large estimate for the expense of breaking in 15 acres.
Letter 4
Red Mountain Valley Sunday, June 24, 1877
My Dear Mother,
I received your very kind letter last Thursday and hasten to reply. I was very glad indeed to hear from you as I have received so few letters from home. We are very pleasantly located in a very beautiful little park known as Red Mountain Valley. It is about six miles south of Ouray on Red Mountain Creek and takes its name from a long mountain at the head of a valley which is of a dark reddish color caused by the stains of iron ore of which the mountain is largely composed. The valley is about a mile and a half long and a little over an eighth of a mile in width and is surrounded and whose tops are covered with snow, forming a strange contrast to the brilliant green of the vegetation in the valley below. We have embarked as you will have seen in my letter to Father last week in the agricultural line having agreed to occupy, build a cabin, and fence a portion of the valley which has been staked for a hay ranch by a man from Lake City who is unable to occupy it himself. We are to have a half interest in the ranch for making it our headquarters and cutting the hay this summer which e shall pack to Ouray in bales upon burros. We have got a very good thing and I believe we can make quite a little stake out of it as hay is in very good demand here and is selling at very high prices. We have also preempted a ranch of 160 acres adjoining the hay ranch which is about one half timber and half a perfectly clear and nearly level portion of the valley. Our ranch and the hay ranch comprise about all of the valley, as above us and nearer Silverton the valley becomes narrow again and ends in a very deep cañon.
The burros trail from our valley down to Ouray is at present very bad but will be much improved during the summer by the miners of this district who will use the trail and the travel from Ouray to Silverton which comes through the valley.
The weather is very clear and bright during the day but sharp and cold at night, ice forming to a thickness of about a quarter of an inch very often. It does not affect the vegetation, however, as the air is so dry that the cold is not felt when sleeping here in the open air every night. Our cabin which we have nearly completed, we shall move into in a few days. At present we are camped in our tent which we have pitched in a little grove of spruce and evergreens beside the creek.
We have the burros which we have got the use of for the keeping of them. One a lank, long-lipped and vicious Texan burro and the others shaggy, long-haired, and docile Mexican animals. One of them is a little fellow about two months old. The funniest and sweetest looking little burro I have ever seen. The very sigh of him makes me laugh.
We have been here about two weeks now and as soon as we have finished and moved into our present cabin on the hay ranch, we shall build another on the opposite side of the creek upon our own ranch as it is necessary to build and occupy a cabin upon preempted government land in order to hold it.
I have had some little experience already in San Juan life, having been twice without food for 24 hours in the past fortnight. the first time Cope and I had came up to look at the valley and staying until nearly dark, we lost the trail when about 4 miles from Ouray and were compelled to camp under a rock. Cope being nearly exhausted from hard climbing in the morning and being unable to walk a step further. It was then about 10 o’clock and we prepared to pass the night as comfortably as possible, cutting a pile of pine boughs to sleep on and building a large fire. During the night it began to rain which turned to a drizzling snow towards morning which completed our misery compelling us to crowd around the fire to keep dry and warm. As the first streak of dawn, about half past three, we gathered ourselves together and were rejoiced to find that we had camped within ten feet of the trail but were unable to see it in account of darkness the night before. We struck out for Ouray which we reached about 5 o’clock after twenty-four hours fast.
On the other occasion I had been down to Ouray with the burros for the remainder of our camp effects and had started for the valley about 4 o’clock in the afternoon, the burros were heavily packed and were unable to reach camp that night. As I unpacked them and lying down upon the burros blankets before a large fire, I passed a very comfortable night. In the morning I packed up and proceeded on my journey. After I had gone about one mile, one of the burros, in going up a steep side of the mountain, slipped and fell upon her knees. In trying to recover herself, the tail gave way and she went plunging over the cliff down a steep incline for about 150 feet, bounding over rock and trees and bringing up against the side of a large rock. I hurried down by a round about way expecting to find her dashed to pieces, but was surprised to find her alive and to all appearances unhurt. I assisted her to rise and found she had sustained no serious injuries although pretty well cut up about the head. Her pack alone had saved her life.
After a considerable delay, I got him upon the trail again and reached camp about 2 o’clock in the afternoon after another 24 hour fast. I shall expect to hear from you oftener hereafter. Also from the girls and Ben too whom I shall soon write. Tell Grace that I have not yet received a letter from her which I have been long expecting.
From your affectionate son, — George West
Letter 5
This letter was written by Perry Lamb Hubbard (1841-1912), the son of Chester Lymon Hubbard (1801-1859) and Emily M. Dasiley (1811-1882) of Atchison, Kansas. He married Ellen Rosaline Smith on 13 April 1865. He died in Denver, Colorado, in 1912 at age 70.During the Civil War, Perry served as a lieutenant in Co. C, 1st Michigan Infantry. He was taken prisoner at the Battle of Gaines’ Mill in June 1862 and exchanged in August 1862 for William Fields, 1st North Carolina Cavalry. He mustered out of the service in November 1862. He was an attorney by profession.
Ouray, Colorado December 29, 1877
Lyndon Redwood Hubbard My very dear little son,
I wanted to write to my little Paul boy today but as I cannot do so I thought I would write to my Lime boy. I am well and hard at work and hope soon I shall make money enough so I can come and see my little family for there is no one that thinks as much of his home as your Father does, ad if I could only step in and spend even one day, it would be to me a day of great rejoicing for when I am not engaged I think of nobody else by my family.
For a mining camp, this far outstrips any in the West for refinement and good society and I attend all the dances, balls, parties, &c., and anyone would think by my appearance that I was a gay young man of 21 like your uncle Did, but it is quite a mistake for such places have no charms for me. We are still getting things up to the Virginians and hope soon to commence work on this wonderful mine and hope some day it will make us so well off that we can all live together. But mining is a hazardous business and we must watch and wait. The Virginians is up about 12, 000 feet and when you get up there in very cold weather, you can hardly hold your eyes open. You will want to go to sleep so bad and many people who go up there fall asleep and freeze to death.
I have a sad story to tell you of a little boy who would not mind his Mother, and last spring left a good home in Wisconsin, and came to Ouray in search of Gold & Silver. His name was George West and was about 20 years old. His Father was a rich grain merchant in Chicago and his parents did everything they could to have him stay at home, but when he determined to come, then his folks thought they would not send their only son any money and he would get sick of the country and would come home. But he was not made of that kind of material. He was a splendid, bright-looking boy and had been brought up as tenderly as a house plant. Your Grandfather knows him well and can tell you about him better than I can write.
He found mining a hard occupation so he with two other young boys went up to Red Mountain Park which is almost up to timber line and (where your Father has a quarter section of land) and they took them up a ranch, built them a nice, snug little cabin, and commenced cutting hay which is worth up there about $100 per ton. They succeeded in getting about 70 tons of hay and when others saw that they were succeeding well, they tried to take away from them their little farm, and at the same time they had no money and were badly in debt and they commenced attacking their hay. The poor boys did not know what to do so they came to me and wanted I should help them out of their trouble but said they had no money to pay me. I told them it made no difference, and I took hold of their case and helped them all out of their trouble, but before we could sell all of the hay, the snow came and they were still in debt, but had hay enough to more than pay all they owed, and had their ranch left. This was in the last of August and before your Grandfather left for home.
George was to small to work and was only about as large as Cliff Holbert so he did the errands and had a little burro which had a small colt, and came down here almost every day and would get what few things they needed and would pack them on her back and then she would climb up the frightful mountains where you could not possible go. George was a good boy and worked all summer as hard as he could although he [had] never done a day’s work in his life. I thought everything of him and I can’t help crying when I tell this terrible story.
So about the time your Grandfather left, one of the larger boys went home to get some money so they could pay their debts and thought when spring opened, they could sell the balance of their hay, and then they would cut some more, and then expected soon to be as rich as their fathers, and could say that they made all of it themselves. George, however, would not go home. He was a little spunky because his folks would not send him some money to relieve him from his present embarrassment so George came down to Ouray to spend the winter while his companions went East. But his rapacious creditors still continued to dun him for thier pay, until they drove the poor boy almost crazy.
Finally last Sunday, Mr. Peterson—Mr. Alling’s clerk—told the little fellow that if they had the steel yards they sold to him, they could sell them again. This was more than he could stand as they told him they must have the money or the steel-yards. Sunday was a warm, pleasant day down here, so he started on foot and alone for Red Mountain Park. When men start for the mountains, they can’t wade in the snow with an overcoat on, but take blankets. The snow is dry and runs just like quick sand, and you go in up to your neck every step. George, however, had neither overcoats or blankets. Night came and we could hear the wind howl and roar on the mountains, which was more terrible than I can describe, but poor George had not returned, and no man on earth could get up there in the night. So we waited until morning half hoping he might have found his way to some cabin. Then four of the best mountaineers in this country started, each with a blanket and a shovel, to find this good boy.
They found his track about 1.5 miles this side of his cabin where these valuable steel-yards were. There he seemed to have given up his journey and started back and came about 100 rods and sat down on a log where they thought he found out that his feet were freezing and had tried to pull off his boots but could not do so. He continued along a little farther and then took his knife and cut his boots so he could get them off. Here he left his boots—also his socks. This will seem strange to you but this was the only way the little fellow could save his life as old travelers always take off their boots when their feet are in danger of freezing, but the case is very desperate when they will take off their socks and he must have heard some person say so or he would not have thought of it.
He then went down to the Uncompahgre River. This frightful stream jumps down the mountain from two to three hundred feet at a bound and there are chunks of ice, from two to ten times as large as our house by the thousand. In getting down to the stream he went over a steep bluff of one hundred and fifty feet where it seemed almost impossible for any human being to go. Here the hunters could not tell whether he had become bewildered and lost his mind or whether it was in the night and he could not find his way on account of the darkness as on either side he could have gone down to the creek without much difficulty. Here they found where he had sit on the bank of the stream and soaked his feet in this icy stream as his last desperate chance for an existence. They then followed him down the steam about 300 rods and came to an immense snow drift more than a 100 feet deep. No human being could get through or over it. They could not trace him any farther. The hunters, weary and exhausted, on the 2nd day came back to Ouray where they found a thousand hearts beating with hope and fear.
The next day nine of the best men that could be found went again to this place and last night returned, having found nothing but poor George’s boots and socks, so poor George—a handsome and intelligent boy, sleeps beneath that mountain of snow. He suffered, he was crucified and is dead and buried, but is now, I trust, happier than the Shilock who so unnecessarily caused his destruction. Mr. Peterson is a ruined man in this Bailiwick.
I enclose a New York Draft for twenty dollars for your Mother. I know all of you children will be good to your mother as she will have a pretty hard time to get along without me. I hope the disagreement between you and your Grandmother will soon be arranged.
Your affectionate father, P[erry] L. Hubbard
Mr. Fogg says you look like Frank P. Blair
Direct to Mrs. P. L. Hubbard, Atchison, Kansas
Letter 6
Ouray [Colorado] December 30, 1877
My Dear Brother,
I left L. City last Thursday ,morning, came across the range on snow shoes, arriving here yesterday at 4 p.m. The first news I heard was of the lost of George West. He left town a week ago this morning to go to his cabin in Red Mountain Valley to get some scales which he had got off a Hardware firm here and had been made to pay for. The firm agreed to take them back if he would bring them back. He expected to get back the same day but did not and nothing has been seen of him since by anyone in town.
Wednesday morning, Will G., Martin Shultis, John Merrie and James Mair (men who came from Milwaukee with George last spring) started to hunt him up. They followed his tracks from where he left the Mineral trail to within a mile of his cabin where he had evidently made up his mind that he could not get through, having no snow shoes and the snow was about two feet deep, he turned back for one half mile and then turned off down to the creek bottom and went down the cañon 100 yards and there all trace was lost.
There was another party went out Friday on the search and Will went again yesterday. They went to every cabin in the vicinity whether occupied or not but no trace of him could be found. When he went down to the creek, he left one of his boots (which he had cut some to get off) and Will thinks he had nothing inside his boots but cotton socks and had nothing over them.
The probabilities are that he froze his feet and becoming stupid, laid down and died and was buried by the drifting snow as there was quite a storm on Tuesday last. I understand that another party gone on the search today. They may find his body and that is about all the hope there is left. Will thinks he did not even have a match when he left town. No blankets or overcoats, so it is not at all likely that he lived through Sunday night. It will be a hard blow on his parents and I leave it with you, Edwin & Amanda to apprise them of it as you think best. Mr. Singer will write to his father about it today but we think it would be best for you to inform them yourselves.
I do not know that Amanda is acquainted with Mrs. West but if she is, it would be advisable for her to see her so that it may not come upon her to sudden.
I came here for several reasons. I wanted to find something to do which I could not in L. and the prospects are slim here. I am going to try to get some of our goods (which are here) over to L.
Much love to all from your affectionate brother, — N. S[inger]
Letter 7
I was not able to identify the authors of the following letters in the Singer family though I believe they have a connection to Milwaukee.
Ouray, Colorado December 30th 1877
Dear Father & Mother,
This old year is dying out very fast now and we will soon welcome the new one of 1878. The time passes away rapidly and in writing 1878, it brings to my mind that I was born in 1838 so that I will be forty years old this coming year. Why, I am getting to be quite an old man. But the time seems very short when I look back to when I was a boy and we were all together in the old home and we are scattered almost from one end of the country to the other and we do not know whether we will ever meet together under the old roof again or not. I hope we shall but fortune seems to have played sad havoc with most of us the fast few years, and still holds us so that we cannot always do as we would like. But Have great hopes of doing better soon.
Last spring the were quite a party of men came to this place from Milwaukee. Among the number, a young man by the name of John Lawrie. About three weeks ago, he started from this place to go about twelve miles. It was very cold, he lost his way, and wandered about most of the night, finally found a cabin of some settlers that he got into. His feet were badly frozen so that he has had to have all the toes of one foot amputated. He is now doing pretty well.
Another one of the party that came with him in the spring, a young man by the name of George West has been working most of the fall about six miles from here up in the mountains in a place called Red Mountain Park cutting hay. One week ago today, Dec. 23rd, he started from here to go up there to bring down a pair of scales he had been using, expecting to return the same day. He did not get back the next day. Monday and Tuesday passed away and he did not return. On Wednesday, a party of four men went to look for him but during the time it had snowed a little and his tracks were almost filled. The snow up there is about four feet deep. They found one of his boots that he had evidently cut off and traced him from that down to the creek, then down the creek about a hundred yards where a snow slide had come down and there his tracks were lost.
On Friday, a party of five went up again and searched all day but could find no farther trace of him. His Father’s name, as near as I can find is F. H. West, and has an office at No. 15 Chamber of Commerce, Milwaukee. There is very little hope of his ever being found alive unless he might have got bewildered and wandered off up the river farther and got to some cabin, but it is a week today since he went out and we would most likely have heard of him if still living. I wish you would go and see his father and tell him what I have written. The snow is very deep up in the mountains and at the place where the last trace was found very dangerous on account of the steep canyon and heavy snow slides and it is very doubtful about the body being found until spring and is liable to be washed away then if near the creek. I have understood that his father was president of the Board of Trade in Milwaukee a year or two back so you will have no difficulty in finding him if you do not know him. I have been requested by parties here that have been searching for him to write this so that his father might know of it and I thought it best to send it through you than direct to his father. Tell Mr. West he can write me and I will give him all the information I possibly can.
Wife has been home now about ten days. She came through very nicely. Caught cold the last day and was a little sick but all right now and we are both happy in being together again. We both send kind love to you all, Mother, Ella Lin, and yourself. Your affectionate son, — A. L. Singer
Letter 8
Ouray, Colorado January 6th 1878
Dear Father,
I wrote you last week about George West and his disappearance. Will now give further particulars which I hope you will communicate to his Father. He started from here on Sunday, Dec. 23rd, to go up Red Mountain Creek about seven miles where he had been living during the summer to bring down a set of scales he had been using to weigh hay with. He had bought them here but had not been able to pay for them. The party of whom he got them told him if he would return them, he would give him credit for them, so that was the object of the journey.
In going up there the first four miles is up the Uncompahgre River over what is called the Mineral Point trail which was well broken. From that point he had to leave this trail to go up Red Mountain Creek where the trail had not been passed over since the snow came and there was about four feet of snow and the crust not being hard enough to bear a person, it was very hard traveling. He not returning in three days, a party went out to look for him and followed his trail as far as they could. They found he got within about a mile of his cabin, then turned and came back following his tracks. Still they found, after coming back about a half mile, where he had sat down and cut off one of his boots which was found there. From there he went down to the creek as if to bathe his feet which probably were frozen. The tracks then went down the creek for about two hundred yards where all trace was lost in a snow slide so they came back.
Then another party started but with no better success. On Tuesday, January the 1st, another party went out and followed up the creek. They found the body near the foot of a fall in the creek which is about sixty feet high. In coming down the creek he must have been out of his mind for he must have known the trail well having passed over it so often and must have known that the creek was a succession of falls and cataracts, and the trail kept away from the creek on that account. He evidently lived after going over the falls as it looked as if he had attempted to crawl still farther but there he was found buried in the ice and water.
The body was brought down and an inquest held. The jury returned a verdict of death from going over the falls and exposure. The body was thawed out, dressed, a very good coffin made, the body put in and carried to the church where the Episcopal minister read the burial services and made some very good remarks. It was thenn taken about three miles below town and buried. I have written out all these particulars thinking his parents would feel an interest in knowing that all was done for the remains of their son that could be and that he had a christian burial. Should they wish anything further down they can write me.
We have had the coldest weather here the past two weeks that I have known since being here. The thermometer has been down to zero every night and most nights two or three below. During the day it was clear and bright and about twenty to twenty-five above zero. It is not bad weather for work here in town but too cold to go into the mountains. Wife and I are both well and have nothing to do but try and make ourselves as comfortable as we can. The party who are working my mine are getting on pretty well and it looks well. About March, if the weather is mild enough, I shall get out and do some prospecting. There is too much snow now. We both unite in sending love to all at home. Your affectionate son, — A. L. Singer
Letter 9
Ouray, Colorado January 16th, 1878
F. H. West Dear Sir,
Your telegram of the 8th reached me today. I wrote you through my Father two weeks ago the full particulars of the search for and finding of the body of your son. The verdict of the coroner’s jury, also the care and attention given to the remains, the funeral services being conducted at the church, and the proper christian burial.
Now I would like you to understand the position we are in here. Then give your wishes to us and we will cheerfully comply with them as far as practicable. We are about two hundred and fifty miles from the end of the railroad across the main range of the Rocky Mountains. The roads are very poor at the best [and] at this season almost blocked with snow. Although there are a few teams passing each way, it is difficult to get anything carried except by paying high prices for it. It would be necessary to enclose the body in some kind of metallic coffin—a regular burial case cannot be had here. We have a tinsmith here. I have been to him to see what he could do. He said he could line an outside box to put the coffin in with tin or zinc at a cost of about thirty dollars. Then we would have to wait until some freighter that was going out would take it to Garland or Cañon City. It would take about twenty days to either of the above places. The cost of this I cannot tell now. It would depend upon what bargain we could make.
Your son at his death had no money. In fact, for some time has been in very straightened circumstances—much more so than even his acquaintances knew of. He led a very isolated life up in the mountain all the fall, only coming to town occasionally for his mail so I did not see him often and did not know how he was situated and he never spoke of his circumstances to me. There has been some expense accrued already and the taking up of the body, the metallic coffin, and sending to Garland I think would cost from one hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars. In compliance to your request to send the body, you see we will have to wait until we can get some person to take it and the means for doing so. Whatever I can do for you, command me.
Kindly yours, — A. L. Singer Ouray, Colo.
George’s death announced in the Denver Times Weekly on January 16, 1878, among some of the more unusual news.
Col. Isaac Dyer, 15th Maine Infantry(Digital Maine)
The following letters were written by Isaac Dyer (1820-1913) while serving as the Colonel of the 15th Maine Infantry. He entered the service as the Lt. Colonel of his regiment on 17 December 1862 and the following year, after the regiment’s Colonel resigned in disgrace, Dyer was promoted to Colonel and led his men in operations in Louisiana and Texas, and in Virginia in 1864. He was brevetted Brigadier General, US Volunteers on March 13, 1865 for “meritorious services,” and was honorably mustered out on 13 September 1865.
Isaac was married to Lydia Emery in 1851. Their son Albert, mentioned in this letter, was born in 1856. Prior to the war, Isaac was a druggist in Skowhegan, Somerset county, Maine.
It’s humorous to find the Colonel writing details of troop strength and movements to his wife while acknowledging at the same time that this information is forbidden to be communicated.
Some of the Colonel’s traps sold at Heritage Auctions
Letter 1
Headquarters, 15th Maine Volunteers August 12, 1863
My Dear Wife,
I was glad to receive a letter from [you] of July 27 & 27. It seems as though you were about a 1,000 miles nearer than you have been for the last 8 months. Now if you will only write every week and be sure and put the letter in the office as soon as written, I shall get one every week.
Maj. Drew will start for Main tomorrow after conscripts. I have to stay by the craft. Col. Murray has gone home on a furlough so I am along in my glory. Perhaps I may get a chance some day. My health is very good and courage as usual. I have good quarters in a nice large two-story house close by the river. Plenty of trees and shrubbery and flowers. The weather is pretty warm but we are getting along very well indeed. Some few are troubled with chills and fever.
I am in hopes I shall be allowed to come home this fall but it will be uncertain. I want you and George to do the best you can and settle up all accounts you can. But I don’t want you to worry about matters at all. There is enough to pay all bills and something for a wet day. I want you to dress first rate and go where you please. I don’t believe anybody will thank you for borrowing any trouble. Be careful, be courageous, be spunky.
Maj. Drew and Lady will call and see you so you must put on the best of smiles and that new dress that you are going to get for my benefit.
Well, hoes does Master Albert and his dog Victor get along? Which gets tired first? How tall is Albert? Is he 8 years old this fall or 7? I have forgotten. I expect he is a great boy and can read smart. Can’t he write me a letter? Can he print letters?
But the post master is waiting for this letter and I must close. Be a good girl and keep up the best of courage. I sold a horse for 300. The man could not raise the money as he expected so I had to take him back. I hope to save something by my horses yet. I have been pretty lucky in that direction. Kisses for you and Albert. Goodbye, — Isaac
My regards to my friends.
Letter 2
New Orleans [Louisiana] September 4, 1863
My Dear Wife,
I have just returned from Carrollton from witnessing a review of the 13th Army Corps (Gen. Grant’s). I assure you, it was a big sight. (There [were] 47 regiments infantry, 15 batteries, and a lot of cavalry, but this you must not mention as it is against regulations).
Look out for big news in a few weeks. The 9th Connecticut, 12th, 13th, and 15th Maine, and 1st Louisiana are to take charge of the City of New Orleans and suburbs, so we shan’t see much fighting at present. (Now, while I am writing, steamboats loaded with soldiers are pushing down by. This also contraband).
I am I hopes we shall all be allowed to go home by next spring for it looks as though the rebels would be cleaned out this fall.
Well we all want to see the end of this business for our New England has attractions superior to the Sunny South. We love civilization to barbarism and the luxuries of the North are far superior to the South.
I have not time to write much now. I suppose you have seen May Drew before this time. I have received the box of boots and box of pants all right. All has been received except the box lost on the Marion.
These two letters were written by Frederick Erasmus Underwood (1841-1889) the son of Albert Underwood (1810-1881) and Susan Moulton (1821-1891) of Brimfield, Portage county, Ohio.
I could not find an image of Erasmus, but here is one of William E. Carlton of Co. B, 42nd OVI (Cowan’s Auctions)
According to muster records, Erasmus entered the service on 20 September 1861 as a private in Co. A, 42nd Ohio Volunteer Infantry (OVI). He mustered out of the service in 20 September 1864 after three years.
Events described in these letters correspond to the following two paragraphs from the regimental history”
On February 1, 1862, the 42nd boarded boats and sailed up the Big Sandy River to Pikeville, Kentucky. On March 14, 1862, the regiment with other Northern units seized Pound Gap, Kentucky. The Union force spent the next few days skirmishing with Confederate guerrillas, before marching for Louisville, Kentucky on March 18. Upon reaching this new location on March 29, 1862, the 42nd entered camp.
In May 1862, the 42nd boarded railroad cars and traveled to Lexington, Kentucky. The regiment then joined Brigadier-General George W. Morgan’s command and marched to Cumberland Ford, where officials brigaded the organization with the 16th Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry and the 14th and 22nd Regiments Kentucky Infantry. On May 15, 1862, the brigade crossed the Cumberland River and entered camp at the junction of the roads leading to Cumberland Gap and to Rogers’s Gap. On June 5, 1862, General Morgan led his troops against Confederate troops at Rogers’s Gap. The 42nd participated in several skirmishes upon reaching this location. On June 18, 1862, the Northerners attempted to strike a Confederate force at Big Spring, but the enemy withdrew as the Union soldiers approached. Morgan ordered his command to Cumberland Gap later that same day, with Confederate soldiers again withdrawing as the Federals approached.The 42nd Ohio entered camp near Yellow Creek and spent the next six weeks participating in various expeditions.
Letter 1
Camp Buell February 9, 1862
Yours of the 14th inst. by some unaccountable blunder came to hand but few days since but notwithstanding its tardiness, I was the no less gratified & overjoyed to receive it.
I was much pleased to hear that Mother’s health was good and Father’s improving. I also understand by a letter of later date to Mr. Hastings that Adaline and Josie have been sick.
There! Hark! I hear our captain’s voice. Listen to what he says, “Co. A, up, up instantly prepared to go to Piketon. Be ready within two hours.”
Now all is bustle again and I shall have to postpone writing for the present to finish in the future. Good night. — F. E. Underwood
Camp Brownlow February 11, 1862
Again, dear parents and sisters, after 50 miles ride on a steamboat and after the confusion which ever and eternally accompanies the setting of tents, I find myself settled again and conversing with you.
We are now situated very pleasantly at Piketon—a small town in the Big Sandy about 35 miles from the Cumberland Mountains. We have now cleaned out every vestige of secession in Eastern Kentucky. The rebel regiment under command of Col. Williams have left the state entirely and marshal force have disbanded. How long we shall stay here, I know not but hope that the next move we make will be down the river.
I regret much to inform you that my health has been quite poor for the last three weeks. I am troubled with the dysentery and rheumatism. I am getting to be quite poor. Oh! Mother, I would choose you in preference to a thousand regimental doctors for a nurse. I think though that I shall get along without going to the hospital. I hope so at least. The captain is now administering to my wants. He has given me two doses of “Hygean’s Pills” which sicken me to an alarming extent. I was sent yesterday to see the doctor and in so doing, exposed myself with many others from our company to the “mumps.” I have forgotten whether I ever had them or not. If not, I will consider myself “elected.”
Tell Adaline and Josie to write just how many such sutlers as that last one [ ] there are “amignto.” I shall always receive them with great joy and delight. I am heartily sick of our “stuff” on which we subsist. If I could only have a little potato [and] some soft bread, it would be such a help. I don’t know if we shall be paid as soon as I expected when last I wrote you. The paymaster hasn’t shown himself yet and not much prospect of it. If I had money, I might buy milk, bread and butter, but I would not ask you to send me any for it might not reach me.
Why don’t Lavina and Ellen write to me? I have not hear a word from them since I came to Kentucky. All write and oblige your son, — F. E. Underwood
To Father, Mother, Addie, Josie, and Sumner.
Letter 2
Camp Virginia Cumberland Gap July 4, 1862
My dear parents,
Sadly and with a sorrowful heart do I sit down to reply to yours of the 2nd that came to my perusal yesterday. Glad indeed was I to hear from you for my mind—-since I learned of the irrevocable rent so suddenly and unexpectedly made in our dear circle—has been in a state of continual agitation searing, lest the deep affliction so suddenly brought upon you would crush the already bruised and mangled heart of my dear mother.
It is now nearly two weeks since I was appraised by Alice Savina and Ellen of the death of Josie. 1 Could I? Must I believe it? That she whose quick perceptibility’s and bright and untarnished intellect was seldom equalled; whose nature ever seemed to be inspired with the love of truth and acted accordingly, must be so rashly stricken down in this, her life’s springtime. But dear parents, I will cease to agitate your already turbulent ocean of trouble.
When I wrote you last we were encamped in Tennessee on the old Rebel camping grounds. But in consequence of the unpleasant, as well as unhealthy odor that constantly arose from the very earth so long polluted by their foul footsteps, Gen. Morgan gave our officers leave to seek a more congenial atmosphere which was done by moving over into the valley on the Kentucky side and pitching our tents in a beautiful grove of pine about 2.5 miles from the Gap. We shall probably stay here through this month although there is one regiment in our Brigade to be sent as provost guard to Frankfort, Louisville, and Lexington. The rumor through camp today intimates that our regiment is th one detailed. We all hope and trust it is.
The boys are all well from Brimfield with the exception of Jim who I think is threatened with a fever though he tells me today that he feels better.
Write to me often and tell me all the news connected with home and vicinity. And now with a hope that God will level his mighty power in bringing about a speedy restoration of peace that we may once more return to our homes and loved ones, I will close.
Your obedient son, — F. Erasmus
Cumberland Gap via Lexington, Co. I, 42nd OVM
P. S. Tell [sister] Adaline to write me a good long letter and [ ] that I could with my presence console her in her deep affliction. — F. E. U.
1 Mary Josephine (“Josie”) Underwood (1849-1862) died on 11 June 1862.
This letter was written by Lyman Henry Wood (1840-1914), the son of David Wood (1804-1877) and Lucretia Baldwin (1815-1851) of Tompkins county, New York. He wrote the letter to his older sister, Frankes (“Frank”) Woods (b. 1836) who in 1863 still lived with her father in New York State. Just prior to his enlistment, Lyman was residing in Bath township, Greene county, Ohio, working as a carpenter.
Lyman served in Co. I, 44th Ohio Volunteer Infantry (OVI) which organized at Springfield, Ohio, in the fall of 1861. After spending the winter in West Virginia, they were ordered to Kentucky in the fall of 1862 and spent the winter near Richmond and then Danville, Kentucky, where this letter was written on 4 January 1863. One year later to the day, 4 January 1864, the regiment was changed to the 8th Ohio Cavalry.
“Three pretty little Kentuck girls went to work and got us a first rate dinner.”
Transcription
Camp near Danville, Kentucky January 4th 1863
Sister Frank,
I received your letter last evening ad this dreary, rainy morning I will try and answer it. You see by the heading of this that we have moved from Richmond. I thought once that we would remain at Richmond through the winter but I begin to think winter quarters for our Brigade is played out and it suits me for winter quarters won’t end this war and I want to be at home next 5th of July if not sooner.
Yesterday the news of Murfreesboro fight came to us. If the report only turns out to be true that Gen. Rosecrans has gained a complete victory over the rebel force, I think it will have a great deal to do towards ending the rebellion.
I must tell you what a good time I had yesterday. A squad of 31 men went out to guard a forage train and while the train was loading, four of us went to a house and what do you think we saw there? “Why” three pretty little Kentuck girls. They went to work and got us a first rate dinner—the best dinner I have had since I have been in the service. After dinner we had a good chat with them and before we was ready to go, one of the boys came and told us the train was ready to start for camp so of course we had to leave though not without being invited to call again. And if it should be my luck to go with the train again, think I will accept the invite.
I suppose you had a good time during the holiday. We put our timer in at marching & building entrenchments.
I can’t think of any more to write so I will close promising to do better next time. Write soon.Your brother, — L. H. Wood
Spared & Shared 23 