Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Monday, September 22, 1862

Knapsack drill to-day,—something new to me, though I am told it is to take place every Sunday morning when in camp. As we were not here yesterday, it was put off until to-day. We marched out to the drill ground with our knapsacks on, expecting to practice as usual, except that we were loaded that much heavier. As all our belongings were in our knapsacks, they were quite heavy. We formed in column by companies and were told to "unsling knapsacks." We all had to be coached, but we finally stood at attention with our knapsacks lying on the ground wide open before us. Then the colonel, the major and the captain of the company being inspected, marched along and with the tip of their swords poked over the contents, regardless of how precious they might be to us. And such a sight as they saw! Besides our extra underclothing, some clean and some unclean, there were Bibles, whiskey bottles, novels, packs of cards, love letters and photographs, revolvers and dirk knives, pen and ink, paper and envelopes and postage stamps, and an endless variety of odds and ends we had picked up in our travels.

As soon as the inspection was over with Company A, they were marched back to camp and so all along the line until Company B, the last of all, was reached. When we got back to camp some of the companies had been there long enough to get asleep. Nothing more was required of us, and we put in the time as we chose, provided always that we observed the camp regulations.

I may never have so good a chance, so I will try and explain some of the things we have learned to do and how we do it. Begin with roll-call. The orderly sergeant, Lew Holmes, has our names in a book, arranged in alphabetical order in one place, and in the order in which we march in another. If it is simply to see if we are all here, he sings out "Fall in for roll-call" and we get in line, with no regard to our proper places, and answer to our names as called from the alphabetical list. If for drill, "Fall in for drill!" and then we take our places with the tallest man at the right, and so on, till the last and shortest man is in place on the left. We are then in a single line, by company front. The orderly then points at the first man and says "One," which the man repeats. He then points to the second man and says "Two," which is also repeated. So it goes down the line, the one, two, being repeated, and each man being careful to remember whether he is odd or even. When that is done, and it is very quickly done, the orderly commands, "Right face!" The odd-numbered men simply swing on the left heel one quarter of the way around and stand fast. The even-numbered men do the same, and in addition step obliquely to the right of the odd-numbered man, bringing us in a double line and one step apart, which distance we must carefully keep, so that when the order "Front!" is given, we can, by reversing the movement of "Right face!" come to our places without crowding. When coming to a front, the line is not apt to be straight and the order "Right dress!" is given, when the man on the right stands fast and the one next to him puts himself squarely by his side. The next moves back or forth until he can just see the buttons on the coat of the second man to his right,—that is, with his head erect, he must look past one man and just see the buttons on the coat of the second man from him. That makes the line as straight as you can draw a string. "Left face!" is the same thing reversed. In marching, one has only to keep step with the one next in front of him. If this is done, the blame for irregular time all comes upon the file leaders, which are the two in front; they must keep step together. If Company B is going out to drill by itself it is now ready. If, however, the entire regiment is to drill together, as it has a few times, Company A marches out first, and as the rear passes where Company F is standing the latter falls in, close behind; and so each company, until Company B, which is the left of the line, and the last to go, falls in and fills up the line, Why the companies are arranged in the line as they are is a mystery I have so far failed to find out. From right to left they come in the following order: A, F, D, I, C, H, E, K, G and B. A is said to have the post of honor, because in marching by the right flank it is ahead, and meets danger first if there be any. Company B has the next most honorable position, because in marching by the left flank it is in the lead. There is a great advantage in being in the lead. On a march the files will open, more or less, and when a halt is ordered the company in the lead stops short. The other companies keep closing up the files, and by the time the ranks are closed "Attention!" may sound, and another start be made. The first company has had quite a breathing spell, while the last has had very little, if any. If I were to enlist again, I would try hard to get in Company A, for all the marching we have so far done has been by the right flank, Company A at the head and Company B bringing up the rear. When we reach the field we are generally broken up into companies, each company drilling in marching by the front, wheeling to the right and left, and finally coming together again before marching back to camp.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 34-6

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, January 11, 1863

To-day we have another beautiful Sabbath. The boys are engaged in cleaning up guns for inspection, and as we are not in the immediate vicinity of the enemy, and have no hope of marching orders, we may expect a day of comparative idleness, which is more to be dreaded than any hardship that could be imposed, as it disposes the men to immoral practices to kill time. In two hours at least half of us will be playing cards, while a few, true to the principles of religion instilled into their hearts in times past, will be reading their Bibles, or engaged in other devotional exercises. The news of the defeat of our army in Tennessee [Murfreesboro] has created quite an excitement in our camp, as nearly all of the soldiers here are from that State. We are impatient for orders to go to the defense of our own homes, and some of the men say they will go whether they get orders or not. As yet, however, good order and discipline have prevailed, and I believe will to the end.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 19

H. B., an Old Missionary to John Brown, November 28, 1859

New Haven, Connecticut, Nov. 28.

Dear Sir: Permit a friend of liberty and equitable law to address you a few brief thoughts, which I hope may be acceptable to you and your family. Prayer was yesterday offered for you in a colored congregation in this city, to whom a descendant of Africa, a son of Georgia, a minister of Liberia, and also the writer of this farewell letter, preached the true gospel.

You may be gratified to know that I remember with interest your interview, some two years since, with the cordial friends of Kansas in this city, while that injured territory of our common country was subject to the scorpion lash prepared for the honest advocates of the rights of man, and especially of that freedom which you struggled to establish. These, your New Haven friends, some of whom so ably and so kindly expostulated with our Chief Magistrate in reference to the wrongs of Kansas, remember you with Christian sympathy in your present sufferings.

Take it to your heart that a God of Justice and of Mercy rules, and the Deliverer of Israel from their bondage in Goshen, has mercy in store for a greater number of bondmen and bondwomen, truly as wrongfully oppressed. He has not granted you the full measure of your wishes, but he has allowed you the opportunity of conspicuously and emphatically showing your sympathy for the injured Slave population of our otherwise happy country, and of preaching the duty of giving "them that which is just and equal."

Forty years ago I went among the savages of Polynesia, and preached the gospel of Him whose office it was to proclaim liberty to captives. I plainly taught kings and queens, chiefs and warriors, that He that ruleth men must be just, ruling in the fear of God. I freely exhibited the opposition of God's law and our Saviour's gospel to oppression and every sin found to be prevailing there, and aided my associates in giving them the entire Bible in their own language, and in teaching their tribes to read it and use it freely in all the ranks of life.

Though I labored with them a score of years, and have corresponded with them a score of years more, I have not, lest I should damage my mission, ever told them that I belonged to a nation that deprives three or four millions of their fellow-subjects of Jehovah's Government, of their dearest rights which God has given them one of which is the free use of his own Holy Book.

But when the story of your execution shall reach and surprise them, I will no longer hesitate to speak to my friends there of your sympathy for four millions of the inhabitants of our Southern States, held in unchristian bonds in the only Protestant country on the globe that endorses Slavery.

I can, next week, well afford to endeavor to give them an echo of that protest against the whole system of American Slavery, which on and from the day of your execution, will be louder in the ear of High Heaven than its abettors have been accustomed to hear; rising from the millions of freemen in this noble cordon of Free States, and other millions of now slaveholding freemen, and some slaveholders themselves, in the Slave States.

Have you a kind message to send to the Christian converts at the Sandwich Islands, or to the heathen of Micronesia, a month's sail beyond, where my son and daughter are laboring to give them the Bible and the richest blessings of Christianity? I would gladly forward it to them if you have time to write it.

And now, dear sir, trust in your gracious Saviour; forgive those that have trespassed against you; leave your fatherless children, God will provide for them, and tell your widow to trust in Him, in His holy habitation. "The hairs of your head are all numbered," and not one "shall fall to the ground without your Heavenly Father." Should a lock of your hair fall into my lap before the execution shall help you to shake the pillars of the idol's temple, it would be valued. The Lord bless you, and make your life and death a blessing to the oppressed and their oppressors. Farewell!

Yours faithfully,

H. B.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 403-5

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: January 19, 1862

HATTERAs Isi.AND AND INLET.

Witnessing boat collisions and wrecks is getting old, and the boys are amusing themselves by writing letters, making up their diaries, playing cards, reading old magazines and newspapers which they have read half a dozen times before; and some of them are actually reading their Bibles. Of all the lonely, God-forsaken looking places I ever saw this Hatteras island takes the premium. It is simply a sand-bar rising a little above the water, and the shoals extend nearly 100 miles out to sea. The water is never still and fair weather is never known; storms and sea gulls are the only productions. Sometimes there is a break in the clouds, when the sun can get a shine through for a few moments, but this very rarely happens. The island extends from Cape Henry, Virginia, to Cape Lookout, North Carolina, with occasional holes washed through it, which are called inlets. It is from one-half to two miles wide, and the only things which make any attempt to grow, are a few shrub pines and fishermen. I don’t think there is a bird or any kind of animal, unless it is a dog, on the island, not even a grasshopper, as one would have to prospect the whole island to find a blade of grass, and in the event of his finding one would sing himself to death. The inlet is very narrow, not over half a mile in width, and the channel is still narrower, consequently it makes an indifferent harbor. Still it is better than none, or as the sailors say, any port in a storm. But as bad as it looks and bad as it is, it is, after all, a very important point, perhaps as important in a military point of view as any on the coast. It is the key or gate-way to nearly all of eastern North Carolina, and places us directly in the rear of Norfolk, Va. This island is not without its history, if we may believe all the fearful and marvelous stories that have been written of it, of its being the habitation of wreckers and buccaneers in ye good old colony times.

THEATRICALS.

The boys are up to all sorts of inventions to kill time. In the amusement line the officers have started an exhibition or theatre up in the saloon. It is a clever device to break the dull monotony; to cheer up the loneliness and homesickness which seem to prevail. The exercises consist of recitations, dialogues, singing and music, and make a very good evening's entertainment. A limited number from each company are nightly admitted, and I can see no reason why it will not prove a success, as there seems to be no lack of talent, music or patronage. For a comic performance, one should be down in the after-cabin of an evening, especially about the time the officer of the day, who is a lieutenant, comes around to silence the noise and order the lights out. This after-cabin is a sort of independent community, having its own by-laws, and throwing off pretty much all restraint and doing about as it pleases. The officer of the day is pretty sure to keep out of the cabin during the day, but comes to the head of the stairs in the evening, and gives his orders. Very little attention will be given them, until finally he will venture down stairs, when he will be greeted by an hundred voices with, “Officer of the day! turn out the guard!” And a hundred more will respond, “Never mind the guard!” and this will be kept up until they finally drive him out. Sometimes, after the officer of the day has sailed to restore order, the colonel will come to the stairs and say, “Boys, it is getting late; time to be quiet.” That is the highest known authority, and order will come out of confusion immediately. Without any disparagement to the lieutenants, the boys have a great respect for Col. Upton; he has only to speak and his wishes are cheerfully and instantly complied with.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 23-4

John Brown to John F. Blessing, November 29, 1859

To John F. Blessing, of Charlestown, Va., with the best wishes of the undersigned, and his sincere thanks for many acts of kindness received. There is no commentary in the world so good, in order to a right understanding of this blessed book,¹ as an honest, childlike, and teachable spirit.

John Brown.

Charlestown, Nov. 29, 1859.

_______________

¹ John Brown’s pocket Bible.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 619

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 22, 1864

As Dan Rice used to say in the circus ring: “Here we are again.” Sleep so sound that all the battles in America could not wake me up. Are just going for that fresh pork to-day. Have three kinds of meat — fried pig, roast pork and broiled hog. Good any way you can fix it. Won't last us three days at this rate, and if we stay long enough will eat up all the hogs in these woods. Pretty hoggish on our part, and Dave says for gracious sake not to write down how much we eat, but as this diary is to be a record of what takes place, down it goes how much we eat. Tell him that inasmuch as we have a preacher along with us, we ought to have a sermon occasionally. Says he will preach if I will sing, and I agree to that if Eli will take up a collection. One objection Eli and I have to his prayers is the fact that he wants the rebels saved with the rest, yet don't tell him so. Mutually agree that his prayers are that much too long. Asked him if he thought it stealing to get those potatoes as I did, and he says no, and that he will go next time. We begin to expect the Yankees along. It's about time. Don't know what I shall do when I again see Union soldiers with guns in their hands, and behold the Stars and Stripes. Probably go crazy, or daft, or something. This is a cloudy, chilly day, and we putter around gathering up pine knots for the fire, wash our duds and otherwise busy ourselves. Have saved the hog skin to make moccasins of, if the Union army is whipped and we have to stay here eight or ten years. The hair on our heads is getting long again, and we begin to look like wild men of the woods. One pocket comb does for the entire party; two jack knives and a butcher knife. I have four keys jingling away in my pocket to remind me of olden times. Eli has a testament and Dave has a bible, and the writer hereof has not. Still, I get scripture quoted at all hours, which will, perhaps, make up in a measure. Am at liberty to use either one of their boons, and I do read more or less. Considerable travel on the highways, and going both ways as near at we can judge. Dave wants to go out to the road again but we discourage him in it, and he gives it up for today at least. Are afraid he will get caught, and then our main stay will be gone. Pitch pine knots make a great smoke which rises among the trees and we are a little afraid of the consequences; still, rebels have plenty to do now without looking us up. Many boats go up and down the river and can hear them talk perhaps fifty rods away. Rebel paper that Dave got spoke of Savannah being the point aimed at by Sherman, also of his repulses; still I notice that he keeps coming right along. Also quoted part of a speech by Jefferson Davis, and he is criticised unmercifully. Says nothing about any exchange of prisoners, and our old comrades are no doubt languishing in some prison. Later. — Considerable firing up in vicinity of the bridge. Can hear volleys of musketry, and an occasional boom of cannon. Hurrah! It is now four o'clock by the sun and the battle is certainly taking place. Later. — Go it Billy Sherman, we are listening and wishing you the best of success. Come right along and we will be with you. Give 'em another — that was a good one. We couldn't be more excited if we were right in the midst of it. Hurrah! It is now warm for the Johnnies. If we had guns would go out and fight in their rear; surround them, as it were. Troops going by to the front, and are cavalry, should think, also artillery. Can hear teamsters swearing away as they always do. Later. — It is now long after dark and we have a good fire. Fighting has partially subsided up the river, but of course we don't know whether Yankee troops have crossed the river or not. Great deal of travel on the road, but can hardly tell which way they are going. occasional firing. No sleep for us to-night. In the morning shall go out to the road and see how things look. Every little while when the battle raged the loudest, all of us three would hurrah as if mad, but we ain't mad a bit; are tickled most to death.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 152-3

Gerrit Smith’s Resolutions Presented at the Convention of the New York Liberty Party, July 3, 1849

Cazenovia, July 3, 1849

1. Resolved, That we recognize the broadest principles of democracy and the right, irrespective of sex, or color, or character, to participate in the selection of civil rulers.

Passed unanimously.

2. Resolved, That when we admit that our hope of the establishment of righteous civil governments on the earth is in the prevalence of Christianity, we, of course, do not mean that spurious, or that mistaken Christianity, which upholds unrighteous civil governments, and which votes civil offices into the hands of anti-abolitionists, and land-monopolists, and other enemies of human rights.

Passed unanimously.

3. Resolved, That by our love of righteous civil government, of God and of man, we are bound to frown upon the public missionary associations of the world; — nearly all their politically voting members voting on the side of the diabolical conspiracies which have, in all nations, usurped the place and name of civil government—and such conspiracies being the preeminent hindrance to the establishment of righteous civil government, and to the spread of human salvation and blessedness.

Passed with but one dissenting voice.

4. Resolved, That the government which will not, or cannot, protect the lives and property of its subjects from the traffic in intoxicating drinks, is utterly unworthy of the name of civil government.

Passed unanimously.

5. Resolved, That it may be better to resort to revolution, than to submit to a government which compels its subjects to pay the debts of their ancestors.

Passed unanimously.

6. Resolved, That while we allow government to draw on posterity for the expense of wars, it is idle to hope that there will not be wars.

Passed unanimously.

7. Resolved, That no just nation need lay its account with being ever involved in war; and, hence, that no just nation can have any excuse or plea, whatever, for wasting the earnings of its subjects upon fortifications and standing armies and navies.

Passed unanimously.

8. Resolved, That the Federal Constitution clearly requires the abolition of every part of American slavery; and that the Phillipses, and Quinceys, and Garrisons, and Douglasses, who throw away this staff of anti-slavery accomplishment, and chime in with the popular cry, that the constitution is pro-slavery, do, thereby, notwithstanding their anti-slavery hearts, make themselves practically and effectively pro-slavery.

Passed unanimously.

9. Resolved, That law is for the protection, not for the destruction of rights; and that slavery, therefore, inasmuch as it is the preeminent destroyer of right, is (constitutions, statutes, and judicial decisions to the contrary notwithstanding) utterly incapable of legalization.

10. Resolved, That whether men cry “no political union with slaveholders,” or “no political union with gamblers,” or “no political union with drunkards,” they do, in each case, proceed upon the absurd supposition, that, instead of being necessarily identified with the whole body politic in which their lot is cast, they are at liberty to choose their partners in it, and to dissolve their national or state tie with this slaveholder in Massachusetts, or that gambler in Pennsylvania, or that drunkard in Virginia.

Passed unanimously.

11. Resolved, That land-monopoly is to be warred against, not only because it is the most wide-spread of all oppressions, but because it is preeminently fruitful of other forms of oppression.

Passed unanimously.

12. Resolved, That the governments which deny to their subjects the liberty to buy and sell freely in all the markets of the world, are guilty of invading a natural and a precious right.

Passed unanimously.

13. Resolved, That government will never be administered honestly and economically, until its expenses are defrayed by direct taxes; and that said taxes, to be justly assessed, must be assessed according to the ability of the payers, rather than according to their property.

Passed unanimously.

14. Resolved, That not only is it true, that the member of a proslavery church is untrusty on the subject of slavery, but that, (considering how, with rare exceptions, sectarians yield to their strong temptations to sacrifice truth and humanity on the altar of sect) it is also true, that the member of a sectarian church is not to be fully relied on for unswerving fidelity to the cause of righteousness.

Passed unanimously.

15. Resolved, That the genius both of Republicanism and Christianity forbids concealment, and that secret societies, therefore, do not only not promote either, but do hinder and endanger both.

Passed unanimously.

16. Resolved, That our only hope of the Whig and Democratic parties — parties so long wedded to slavery and other stupendous wrongs — is in their breaking up and ruin.

Passed unanimously.

17. Resolved, That, whilst we rejoice in the faithful testimonies and efficient labors of the Free Soil Party, against the extension of slavery, it must, nevertheless, be a poor, unnatural, absurd, inhuman, anti-republican, unchristian party, until it array itself against the existence as well as against the extension of slavery.

Passed unanimously.

18. Resolved, That the Liberty Party, though reduced in numbers, is not reduced in principles or usefulness — nor in the confidence, that its honest and earnest endeavors for a righteous civil government, will yet be crowned with triumph.

Passed unanimously.

19. Resolved, That, whilst we respect the motives of those who propose to supply the slaves with the Bible, we, nevertheless, can have no sympathy with an undertaking which, inasmuch as it implies the pernicious falsehood that the slave enjoys the right of property and the right to read, goes to relieve slavery, in the public mind, of more than half its horrors and more than half its odium.

Passed, but not unanimously.

20. Resolved, That, instead of sending Bibles among the slaves, we had infinitely better adopt the suggestion in the memorable Liberty-Party Address to the slaves, and supply them with pocket-compasses, and, moreover, if individual or private self-defence be ever justifiable, and on their part ever expedient, with pocket-pistols also — to the end, that, by such helps, they may reach a land where they can both own the Bible and learn to read it.

Passed, but not unanimously.

21. Resolved, That we welcome the appearance of the book, entitled, “The Democracy of Christianity;” and that we should rejoice to see every member of the Liberty Party supplying himself with a copy of it.

Whereas, Lysander Spooner, of Massachusetts, that man of honest heart and acute and profound intellect, has published a perfectly conclusive legal argument against the constitutionality of slavery:

22. Resolved, therefore, that we warmly recommend to the friends of freedom, in this and other States, to supply, within the coming six months, each lawyer in their respective counties with a copy of said argument.

Passed unanimously.

23. Resolved, That we recommend that a National Liberty Party Convention be held in the city of Syracuse, on the 3d and 4th days of July, 1850, for the purpose of nominating candidates for President and Vice President, and of adopting other measures in behalf of the cause of righteous civil government.

Passed unanimously.

24. Resolved, That a State Liberty Party Convention be held in the village of Cortland, on the first Wednesday of next September, for nominating State officers, and for other business.

Passed unanimously.

25. Resolved, That, not only with our Irish brother and our Italian brother, under their heavy and galling loads of civil and ecclesiastical despotism, do we sympathize, but, also, with our fellow-men everywhere — for, everywhere, in our priest, and demagogue, and despot ridden world, are our fellow-men suffering under civil or ecclesiastical despotism, or both; and nowhere in it is enjoyed the priceless and two-fold blessing of Christian democracy in the State, and Democratic Christianity in the Church.

Passed unanimously.

26. Resolved, That unwillingness to use the products of slave labor is a beautiful and effective testimony against slavery.

Passed unanimously.

Whereas, we rejoice to see the first number of the “Liberty Party Paper”—a paper which, we doubt not, will faithfully represent, and ably inculcate the principles of the Liberty Party:

27. Resolved, therefore, that we call on all the members of the Liberty Party to regard it as their first duty to that party, to subscribe for, and endeavor to induce others to subscribe for, this paper.

Passed unanimously.

28. Resolved, That we hear with profound sorrow, of the very severe, if not indeed entirely hopeless, sickness of our honored and beloved James G. Birney — a man who, for his wisdom, integrity, high and heroic bearing, deserves a distinguished place in the regards of his fellow-men.

Passed by a unanimous standing vote.

29. Resolved, That we honor the memory of Alvan Stewart, who, for so many years employed his remarkably original and vigorous powers in promoting the cause of liberty and the cause of temperance.

Passed unanimously by a standing vote.

Samuel Wells, Pres.

		A. KINGSBURY	}
			} V. Pres.
		J. C. HARRINGTON	}
S. R. Ward	}
	} Sec’s
W. W. Chapman	}

SOURCES: Octavius Brooks Frothingham, Gerrit Smith: A Biography, p. 187-91

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: Sunday,November 1, 1863

Took a bath before breakfast. A beautiful Sabbath day. Wish I could spend it quietly at home. May the time soon come when we may all be at home in peace, but contentment we should ask for. I find myself uneasy nowadays. Mr. Brown preached at 2 from Ecclesiastes 12, 1. Very good. Read some in Burns and several chapters in the Bible. Good visit with several boys.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 95

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: April 10, 1864

Getting warmer and warmer. Can see the trees swaying back and forth on the outside, but inside not a breath of fresh air. Our wood is all gone, and we are now digging up stumps and roots for fuel to cook with. Some of the first prisoners here have passable huts made of logs, sticks, pieces of blankets, &c. Room about all taken up in here now. Rations not so large. Talk that they intend to make the meal into bread before sending it inside, which will be an improvement. Rations have settled down to less than a pint of meal per day, with occasionally a few peas, or an apology for a piece of bacon, for each man. Should judge that they have hounds on the outside to catch run-aways, from the noise. Wirtz don't come in as much as formerly. The men make it uncomfortable for him As Jimmy Devers says, “He is a terror.” I have omitted to mention Jimmy's name of late, although he is with us all the time — not in our mess, but close by. He has an old pack of cards with which we play to pass away the time. Many of the men have testaments, and “house-wives” which they have brought with them from home, and it is pitiful to see them look at these things while thinking of their loved ones at home.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 49-50

John Brown to his Family, September 12, 1857

Tabor, Fremont County, Iowa, Sept. 12, 1857.

Dear Wife And Children, Every One, — It is now nearly two weeks since I have seen anything from home, and about as long since I wrote. . . . We get nothing very definite from Kansas yet, but think we shall in the course of another week. . . . Got a most kind letter from Mr. F. B. Sanborn yesterday; also one from Mr. Blair, where Oliver was living. You probably have but little idea of my anxiety to get letters from you constantly; and it would afford me great satisfaction to learn that you all regularly attend to reading your Bibles, and that you are all punctual to attend meetings on Sabbath days. I do not remember ever to have heard any one complain of the time he had lost in that way.

Your affectionate husband and father,

John Brown.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 414-5

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: Sunday, July 6, 1862

Overslept and wakened at “forward.” Hurried along. Rode a little obstinate pony. Passed the other brigade and encamped at two miles distant. Saw some Confederate papers, very neat. Warmest day of the season. Bathed in Grand River. Wrote a little, read two or three chapters in Philippians. I wish it were easier to be good, or rather I wish I were a better boy and doing some good.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 20

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: May 28, 1863

Hospital day. The wounded cheerful and doing well. I read, distributed books, and talked with them. They are always ready to be amused, or to be instructed. I have never but in one instance had an unpleasant word or look from any whom I endeavoured to treat with kindness in any way. Bible reading is always kindly received. J. J. has returned home, as usual much interested in hospital work.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 218

Diary of Sarah Morgan: June 26, 1862

Yesterday morning, just as I stepped out of bed I heard the report of four cannon fired in rapid succession, and everybody asked everybody else, “Did you hear that?” so significantly, that I must say my heart beat very rapidly for a few moments, at the thought of another stampede. At half-past six this morning I was wakened by another report, followed by seven others, and heard again the question, “Did you hear that?” on a higher key than yesterday. — It did not take me many minutes to get out of bed, and to slip on a few articles, I confess. My chief desire was to wash my face before running, if they were actually shelling us again. It appears that they were only practicing, however, and no harm was intended. But we are living on such a volcano, that, not knowing what to expect, we are rather nervous.

I am afraid this close confinement will prove too much for me; my long walks are cut off, on account of the soldiers. One month to-morrow since my last visit to the graveyard! That haunts me always; it must be so dreary out there! Here is a sketch of my daily life, enough to finish me off forever, if much longer persisted in.

First, get up a little before seven. After breakfast, which is generally within a few minutes after I get down (it used to be just as I got ready, and sometimes before, last winter), I attend to my garden, which consists of two strips of ground the length of the house, in front, where I can find an hour's work in examining and admiring my flowers, replanting those that the cows and horses occasionally (once a day) pull up for me, and in turning the soil over and over again to see which side grows best. O my garden! abode of rare delights! how many pleasant hours I have passed in you, armed with scissors, knife, hoe, or rake, only pausing when Mr. This or Mr. That leaned over the fence to have a talk! — last spring, that was; ever so many are dead now, for all I know, and all off at the war. Now I work for the edification of proper young women, who look in astonishment at me, as they would consider themselves degraded by the pursuit. A delicate pair of hands my flower mania will leave me!

Then I hear Dellie's and Morgan's lessons, after which I open my desk and am lost in the mysteries of Arithmetic, Geography, Blair's Lectures, Noël et Chapsal, Ollendorff, and reading aloud in French and English, besides writing occasionally in each, and sometimes a peep at Lavoisne, until very nearly dinner. The day is not half long enough for me. Many things I would like to study I am forced to give up, for want of leisure to devote to them. But one of these days, I will make up for present deficiencies. I study only what I absolutely love, now; but then, if I can, I will study what I am at present ignorant of, and cultivate a taste for something new.

The few moments before dinner, and all the time after, I devote to writing, sewing, knitting, etc., and if I included darning, repairs, alterations, etc., my list would be tremendous, for I get through with a great deal of sewing. Somewhere in the day, I find half an hour, or more, to spend at the piano. Before sunset I dress, and am free to spend the evening at home, or else walk to Mrs. Brunot's, for it is not safe to go farther than those three squares, away from home. From early twilight until supper, Miriam and I sing with the guitar, generally, and after, sit comfortably under the chandelier and read until about ten. What little reading I do, is almost exclusively done at that time. It sounds woefully little, but my list of books grows to quite a respectable size, in the course of a year.

At ten comes my Bible class for the servants. Lucy, Rose, Nancy, and Dophy assemble in my room, and hear me read the Bible, or stories from the Bible for a while. Then one by one say their prayers — they cannot be persuaded to say them together; Dophy says “she can't say with Rose, ’cause she ain't got no brothers and sisters to pray for,” and Lucy has no father or mother, and so they go. All difficulties and grievances during the day are laid before me, and I sit like Moses judging the children of Israel, until I can appease the discord. Sometimes it is not so easy. For instance, that memorable night when I had to work Rose's stubborn heart to a proper pitch of repentance for having stabbed a carvingfork in Lucy's arm in a fit of temper. I don't know that I was ever as much astonished as I was at seeing the dogged, sullen girl throw herself on the floor in a burst of tears, and say if God would forgive her she would never do it again. I was lashing myself internally for not being able to speak as I should, furious at myself for talking so weakly, and lo! here the girl tumbles over wailing and weeping! And Dophy, overcome by her feelings, sobs, “Lucy, I scratched you last week! please forgive me this once!” And amazed and bewildered I look at the touching tableau before me of kissing and reconciliation, for Lucy can bear malice toward no one, and is ready to forgive before others repent, and I look from one to the other, wondering what it was that upset them so completely, for certainly no words of mine caused it. Sometimes Lucy sings a wild hymn, “Did you ever hear the heaven bells ring?” “Come, my loving brothers,” “When I put on my starry crown,” etc.; and after some such scene as that just described, it is pleasant to hear them going out of the room saying, “Good-night, Miss Sarah!” “God bless Miss Sarah!” and all that.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 86-90

Mrs. M. J. G. Mason to Lydia Maria Child, November 11, 1859

ALTO, King George’s Co., Va., Nov. 11th, 1859.

Do you read your Bible, Mrs. Child? If you do, read there, “Woe unto you, hypocrites,” and take to yourself with two-fold damnation that terrible sentence; for, rest assured, in the day of judgment it shall be more tolerable for those thus scathed by the awful denunciation of the Son of God, than for you. You would soothe with sisterly and motherly care the hoary-headed murderer of Harper’s Ferry! A man whose aim and intention was to incite the horrors of a servile war — to condemn women of your own race, ere death closed their eyes on their sufferings from violence and outrage, to see their husbands and fathers murdered, their children butchered, the ground strewed with the brains of their babes. The antecedents of Brown’s band proved them to have been the off-scourings of the earth; and what would have been our fate had they found as many sympathizers in Virginia as they seem to have in Massachusetts?

Now, compare yourself with those your “ sympathy ” would devote to such ruthless ruin, and say, on that “word of honor, which never has been broken,” would you stand by the bedside of an old negro, dying of a hopeless disease, to alleviate his sufferings as far as human aid could? Have you, ever watched the last, lingering illness of a consumptive, to soothe, as far as in you lay, the inevitable fate? Do you soften the pangs of maternity in those around you by all the care and comfort you can give? Do you grieve with those near you, even though their sorrows resulted from their own misconduct? Did you ever sit up until the “wee hours” to complete a. dress for a motherless child, that she might appear on Christmas day in a new one, along with her more fortunate companions? We do these and more for our servants, and why? Because we endeavor to do our duty in that state of life it has pleased God to place us. In his revealed word we read our duties to them – theirs to us are there also — “Not only to the good and gentle, but to the froward.” – (Peter 2:18.) Go thou and do likewise, and keep away from Charlestown. If the stories read in the public prints be true, of the sufferings of the poor of the North, you need not go far for objects of charity. “Thou hypocrite! take first the beam out of thine own eye, then shalt thou see clearly to pull the mote out of thy neighbor’s.” But if, indeed, you do lack objects of sympathy near you, go to Jefferson county, to the family of George Turner, a noble, true-hearted man, whose devotion to his friend (Col. Washington) causing him to risk his life, was shot down like a dog. Or to that of old Beckham, whose grief at the murder of his negro subordinate made him needlessly expose himself to the aim of the assassin Brown. And when you can equal in deeds of love and charity to those around you, what is shown by nine-tenths of the Virginia plantations, then by your “sympathy” whet the knives for our throats, and kindle the torch that fires our homes. You reverence Brown for his clemency to his prisoners! Prisoners! and how taken? Unsuspecting workmen, going to their daily duties; unarmed gentlemen, taken from their beds at the dead hour of the night, by six men doubly and trebly armed. Suppose he had hurt a hair of their heads, do you suppose one of the band of desperadoes would have left the engine-house alive? And did he not know that his treatment of them was his only hope of life then, or of clemency afterward? Of course he did. The United States troops could not have prevented him from being torn limb from limb.

I will add, in conclusion, no Southerner ought, after your letter to Governor Wise and to Brown, to read a line of your composition, or to touch a magazine which bears your name in its lists of contributors; and in this we hope for the “sympathy,” at least of those at the North who deserve the name of woman.

M. J. G. MASON.

SOURCES: The American Anti-Slavery Society, Correspondence between Lydia Maria Child and Gov. Wise and Mrs. Mason, of Virginia, p. 16-9; 

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: August 10, 1863

RICHMOND, Va. — To-day I had a letter from my sister, who wrote to inquire about her old playmate, friend, and lover, Boykin McCaa. It is nearly twenty years since each was married; each now has children nearly grown. “To tell the truth,” she writes, “in these last dreadful years, with David in Florida, where I can not often hear from him, and everything dismal, anxious, and disquieting, I had almost forgotten Boykin's existence, but he came here last night; he stood by my bedside and spoke to me kindly and affectionately, as if we had just parted. I said, holding out my hand, ‘Boykin, you are very pale.’ He answered, ‘I have come to tell you goodby,’ and then seized both my hands. His own hands were as cold and hard as ice; they froze the marrow of my bones. I screamed again and again until my whole household came rushing in, and then came the negroes from the yard, all wakened by my piercing shrieks. This may have been a dream, but it haunts me.

'”Some one sent me an old paper with an account of his wounds and his recovery, but I know he is dead.” “Stop!” said my husband at this point, and then he read from that day's Examiner these words: “Captain Burwell Boykin McCaa found dead upon the battle-field leading a cavalry charge at the head of his company. He was shot through the head.”

The famous colonel of the Fourth Texas, by name John Bell Hood,¹ is here — him we call Sam, because his classmates at West Point did so — for what cause is not known. John Darby asked if he might bring his hero to us; bragged of him extensively; said he had won his three stars, etc., under Stonewall's eye, and that he was promoted by Stonewall's request. When Hood came with his sad Quixote face, the face of an old Crusader, who believed in his cause, his cross, and his crown, we were not prepared for such a man as a beau-ideal of the wild Texans. He is tall, thin, and shy; has blue eyes and light hair; a tawny beard, and a vast amount of it, covering the lower part of his face, the whole appearance that of awkward strength. Some one said that his great reserve of manner he carried only into the society of ladies. Major Venable added that he had often heard of the light of battle shining in a man's eyes. He had seen it once — when he carried to Hood orders from Lee, and found in the hottest of the fight that the man was transfigured. The fierce light of Hood's eyes I can never forget.

Hood came to ask us to a picnic next day at Drury's Bluff.² The naval heroes were to receive us and then we were to drive out to the Texan camp. We accused John Darby of having instigated this unlooked-for festivity. We were to have bands of music and dances, with turkeys, chickens, and buffalo tongues to eat. Next morning, just as my foot was on the carriage-step, the girls standing behind ready to follow me with Johnny and the Infant Samuel (Captain Shannon by proper name), up rode John Darby in red-hot haste, threw his bridle to one of the men who was holding the horses, and came toward us rapidly, clanking his cavalry spurs with a despairing sound as he cried: “Stop! it's all up. We are ordered back to the Rappahannock. The brigade is marching through Richmond now.” So we unpacked and unloaded, dismissed the hacks and sat down with a sigh.

“Suppose we go and see them pass the turnpike,” some one said. The suggestion was hailed with delight, and off we marched. Johnny and the Infant were in citizens' clothes, and the Straggler — as Hood calls John Darby, since the Prestons have been in Richmond — was all plaided and plumed in his surgeon's array. He never bated an inch of bullion or a feather; he was courting and he stalked ahead with Mary Preston, Buck, and Johnny. The Infant and myself, both stout and scant of breath, lagged last. They called back to us, as the Infant came toddling along, “Hurry up or we will leave you.”

At the turnpike we stood on the sidewalk and saw ten thousand men march by. We had seen nothing like this before. Hitherto we had seen only regiments marching spick and span in their fresh, smart clothes, just from home and on their way to the army. Such rags and tags as we saw now. Nothing was like anything else. Most garments and arms were such as had been taken from the enemy. Such shoes as they had on. “Oh, our brave boys!” moaned Buck. Such tin pans and pots as were tied to their waists, with bread or bacon stuck on the ends of their bayonets. Anything that could be spiked was bayoneted and held aloft.

They did not seem to mind their shabby condition; they laughed, shouted, and cheered as they marched by. Not a disrespectful or light word was spoken, but they went for the men who were huddled behind us, and who seemed to be trying to make themselves as small as possible in order to escape observation.

Hood and his staff finally came galloping up, dismounted, and joined us. Mary Preston gave him a bouquet. Thereupon he unwrapped a Bible, which he carried in his pocket. He said his mother had given it to him. He pressed a flower in it. Mary Preston suggested that he had not worn or used it at all, being fresh, new, and beautifully kept. Every word of this the Texans heard as they marched by, almost touching us. They laughed and joked and made their own rough comments.

_______________

¹ Hood was a native of Kentucky and a graduate of West Point.

² Drury's Bluff lies eight miles south of Richmond on the James River. Here, on May 16, 1864, the Confederates under Beauregard repulsed the Federals under Butler.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 229-32

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: March 7, 1862

Just returned from the hospital. Several severe cases of typhoid fever require constant attention. Our little Alabamian seems better, but so weak! I left them for a few moments to go to see Bishop Meade; he sent for me to his room. I was glad to see him looking better, and quite cheerful. Bishops Wilmer and Elliott came in, and my visit was very pleasant. I returned to my post by the bedside of the soldiers. Some of them are very fond of hearing the Bible read; and I am yet to see the first soldier who has not received with apparent interest any proposition of being read to from the Bible. To-day, while reading an elderly man of strong, intelligent face sat on the side of the bed, listening with interest. I read of the wars of the Israelites and Philistines. He presently said, “I know why you read that chapter; it is to encourage us, because the Yankee armies are so much bigger than ours; do you believe that God will help us because we are weak?” “No,” said I, “but I believe that if we pray in faith, as the Israelites did, that God will hear us.” “Yes,” he replied, “but the Philistines didn't pray, and the Yankees do; and though I can't bear the Yankees, I believe some of them are Christians, and pray as hard as we do; [“Monstrous few on ‘em,’ grunted out a man lying near him;] and if we pray for one thing, and they pray for another, I don't know what to think of our prayers clashing.” “Well, but what do you think of the justice of our cause? don't you believe that God will hear us for the justice of our cause?  “Our cause,” he exclaimed, “yes, it is just; God knows it is just. I never thought of looking at it that way before, and I was mighty uneasy about the Yankee prayers. I am mightily obleeged to you for telling me.” “Where are you from?” I asked. “From Georgia.” “Are you not over forty-five?” “Oh, yes, I am turned of fifty, but you see I am monstrous strong and well; nobody can beat me with a rifle, and my four boys were a-coming. My wife is dead, and my girls are married; and so I rented out my land, and came too; the country hasn't got men enough, and we mustn't stand back on account of age, if we are hearty.” And truly he has the determined countenance, and bone and sinew, which make a dangerous foe on the battle-field. I wish we had 50,000 such men. He reminds me of having met with a very plain-looking woman in a store the other day. She was buying Confederate gray cloth, at what seemed a high price. I asked her why she did not apply to the quartermaster, and get it cheaper. “Well,” she replied, “I knows all about that, for my three sons is in the army; they gets their clothes thar; but you see this is for my old man, and I don't think it would be fair to get his clothes from thar, because he ain't never done nothing for the country as yet — he's just gwine in the army.” “Is he not very old to go into the army?” “Well, he's fifty-four years old, but he's well and hearty like, and ought to do something for his country. So he says to me, says he, ‘The country wants men; I wonder if-I could stand marching; I've a great mind to try.’ Says I, ‘Old man, I don't think you could, you would break down; but I tell you what you can do — you can drive a wagon in the place of a young man that's driving, and the young man can fight.’ Says he, ‘So I will — and he's agwine just as soon as I gits these clothes ready, and that won't be long.’” “But won't you be very uneasy about him?” said I. “Yes, indeed; but you know he ought to go — them wretches must be drove away.” “Did you want your sons to go?” “Want 'em to go!” she exclaimed; “yes; if they hadn't agone, they shouldn't a-staid whar I was. But they wanted to go, my sons did.” Two days ago, I met her again in a baker's shop; she was filling her basket with cakes and pies. “Well,” said I, “has your husband gone?” “No, but he's agwine tomorrow, and I'm getting something for him now.” “Don't you feel sorry as the time approaches for him to go?” “Oh, yes, I shall miss him mightily; but I ain't never cried about it; I never shed a tear for the old man, nor for the boys neither, and I ain't agwine to. Them Yankees must not come a-nigh to Richmond; if they does, I will fight them myself. The women must fight, for they shan't cross Mayo's Bridge; they shan't git to Richmond.” I said to her, “You are a patriot.” “Yes, honey — ain't you? Ain't everybody?” I was sorry to leave this heroine in homespun, but she was too busy buying cakes, etc., for the “old man,” to be interrupted any longer.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 97-100

Major Rutherford B. Hayes to Sophia Birchard Hayes, August 6, 1861

Weston, Virginia, Tuesday P. M., August 6, 1861.

Dear Mother: — I have just read your letter, with Brother William's of the 2nd, — the first I have had from anybody since we came to Virginia. I am sitting in my tent looking out on the same beautiful scene I have so often referred to. It is a bright and very warm afternoon, but a clear, healthful mountain air which it is a happiness to breathe. . . .

My horse shows a little weakness in the fore shoulders, but as he can probably work well in an ambulance, I can exchange him for a good government horse, if he gets worse. We have plenty of business. A good deal of it is a sort of law business. As all civil authority is at an end, it is our duty to keep the peace and do justice between the citizens, who, in these irregular times, are perhaps a little more pugnacious than usual. Dr. Joe and I, under direction of the colonel, held courts on divers cases all the forenoon. It was rather amusing, and I think we dispensed very exact justice. As there is no appeal, a case decided is for good and all.

I am so glad you and Uncle are both getting well. If Uncle wishes to travel, and we remain here, he couldn't please himself better than by a trip this way. He would enjoy a few days very much in our camp, or at the hotel in the village.

Young Jewett leaves with his father for Zanesville tonight. I hope he will stand the trip well. I will hand them this letter to mail when they get out of these woods. Send me sometime a neat little New Testament. I have nothing of the sort. I have clothes enough. I am cut short by business. Good-bye.

Affectionately,

R. B. Hayes.

Mrs. Sophia Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 57-8