Showing posts with label Letter Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Letter Writing. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 6, 2024

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Monday, September 1, 1862

I wrote to Samuel Doughty. I got my ambrotype, $1. I slept on floor. Halbreed company armed and uniformed, one by the name of John Brown.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 4

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Thursday, September 4, 1862

I wrote Sister Letitia, 3c. pie, 10c.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 4

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Friday, September 5, 1862

I wrote to Moses Paxson, Plums, 5c. Letter, 3. Fuss with Capt. Ambler of Steele county, and Private Beauregard.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 4

Friday, March 1, 2024

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 6, 1862

NEW YORK CITY, and my first peep at it. We are in City Hall Park, but I must go back and tell of our getting here. We had an all night's ride, passing many large places. So many knew the names of them, we greenhorns only had to listen to find out where we were all the time. Some did not want to sleep, and the rest were not allowed to. The boatmen must be glad to see the last of us. We passed laws for their observance as well as for our own. The officers kept out of sight. I suppose they were asleep somewhere. May be it is well for both them and ourselves that they did not interfere, for the devil in each man seemed to have got loose. We didn't try to run the steamer but we ran everything else in sight. We took turns riding the walking beam. Some wanted to and the rest had to, and the wonder is no one was killed, or at least crippled. We landed at the foot of Harrison Street, and marched to the City Hall Park, where I am now seated on the front porch of a tremendous great building, writing about it in my diary. Everything is clean here, and everything to me is new. I have never been in New York before, and I don't suppose I shall see very much of it now. I am on business for the boss, and cannot fool away the time running around the city, even if I was allowed to, which I am not. The officers have us shut in here, with a high picket fence, made of iron, around us on every side. Soldiers, real soldiers, are on guard just outside, keeping a close watch that none of us crawl under or jump over. We first had a good wash, then a good breakfast, and then were let alone to read the papers, or write letters or do anything we chose. I had a good nap. The stone I lay on was but little harder than my bunk in the barracks at Hudson, and it was a great deal warmer. The papers say the Rebs are expected to attack Harpers Ferry to-day. Why couldn't they wait until we got there? Maybe they have heard of us and are improving the time before we get there. Captain Bostwick has gone home for a visit, saying he would meet us in Washington.

Night. On the cars in Jersey City. Part of the regiment has gone on another train, and we are to meet in Philadelphia. We marched on the ferry-boat in double file, and were made to kneel on one knee, leaving the other sticking up for the man ahead to sit on. If it was done for our comfort it was a complete failure, but if it was to keep us from running all over the boat it worked well. Before we left City Hall Park I got a fellow on the outside to get me a bottle of blackberry brandy, and when we were finally seated in the car I out with my bottle and gave it a swing around my head to let the fellows see what I had, when it slipped from my hand and went to smash on the floor. Much as some of us needed it, we could only get a smell, as the fumes rose up to aggravate us.

At Elizabeth, N. J. we halted for a few minutes. Crowds of people lined the track, and although all were strangers to each other, we talked as if we were old acquaintances. Henry House, of Company B, asked a young lady to write him, and they exchanged names and addresses, promising each to write to the other.*
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*They did correspond, and after the war were married, and as far as I ever knew or heard lived happily ever after.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 17-8

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Saturday, September 13, 1862

Washing day. All who are not on duty were let out to go in the stream below the mill and wash. We took off our clothes and rubbed and scrubbed them, until one color, instead of several, prevailed, and then we sat around and waited for them to dry in the sun. From the looks of the wash-water, the clothes should look better than they do. They fitted rather snug when we got into them, but we will soon stretch them out again.

Night. A letter from father! So far as I know, he never wrote a letter before. I do not remember that I ever saw his handwriting until now. I expected to hear from him through others, but of getting a letter direct from him, I never even thought. Another was from my sister, Mrs. Loucks. They are all well, getting along first-rate without me. I guess I was not of so much account as I thought. However, I am delighted to hear about them. Captain Bostwick returned this P. M. and has told me all the home news. I almost feel as if I had been home, he told me so much about every thing I wanted to know, and best of all brought me father's letter. I will answer that letter right off, now, and then go to bed, where many of the company already are.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 25

Thursday, February 15, 2024

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Thursday, August 28, 1862

We went in Mississippi swimming. I wrote to father. Snake in first lieutenant's blanket.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 3

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Saturday, August 30, 1862

Visited St. Paul, at cave, St. Anthony, Minneapolis, etc. Hardees tactics, $1.50. Ferry, 10c. Stamps, 25c. Toll, $1. Luncheon fare 40c. I wrote to father.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 3

Sunday, February 4, 2024

Diary of Private Bartlett Yancey Malone, January 10, 1862

was cloudy but not much rain And I wrote a letter to S. F. Compton today.

SOURCE: Bartlett Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 12

Saturday, September 30, 2023

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, January 13, 1863

Yesterday we had nothing to do, and spent the day writing letters to friends and relatives at home. In the afternoon had some little excitement over a report that the small-pox was in our regiment, and that we would be sent several miles away from other camps and put in quarantine. I paid but little attention to it at first, thinking it originated as camp rumors generally do, but early this morning orders came to tear down and pack up tents and other baggage, and we were soon on the march.

The report was but too true; four or five cases of small-pox have been taken from our regiment, and we are now in quarantine, four miles from our camp of yesterday. No new cases reported to-day. We are now encamped in the midst of a magnolia forest, entirely away from any habitation, and are confined to a certain limit, beyond which we dare not go, and inside of which no one is allowed to come.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 19-20

Saturday, June 3, 2023

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, June 24, 1864

Field Infirmary, near Petersburg, Va.,        
June 24, 1864.

When I wrote to you two days ago I said appearances indicated that we were about to have a fight. Sure enough, about half an hour after I had finished writing the battle began. Our division was engaged. McGowan's Brigade did not suffer much. It supported Wright's Georgia Brigade of Anderson's Division, and, as the men were not engaged, they had the privilege of lying down. Consequently most of the missiles passed over them. The brigade lost only thirty or forty, and the Thirteenth Regiment had but one killed and two wounded

We were very successful. It is estimated that we killed and wounded about two thousand. We captured about the same number and four cannon.

Our loss was about four hundred. We are still in our old position. There was heavy cannonading this morning on our extreme left. If there was any musketry, it was too far for me to hear it. Just as I began to write this letter I had two wounded men to come in. They were hurt by a shell early this morning.

I had my third mess of beans yesterday, and a big one it was too. I shall have rather a poor dinner to-day—only bread, meat and coffee. We have been getting enough coffee and sugar to have it twice a day ever since I got back from home in April.

The weather is becoming very warm and we need rain. It will soon be too hot for military operations.

When you write again tell me all the little particulars about yourself. You do not know how much it interests me.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 100-1

Sunday, February 27, 2022

Diary of Brigadier-General Rutherford B. Hayes: Wednesday, March 8, 1865

Busy replying to letters from divers[e] office-seekers. They come by the dozens.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 565

Saturday, January 1, 2022

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Sunday, May 3, 1863

This morning after the boys clean up the camp and arrange things in order, they write to their friends. All have a little romance and history to write—a long march—sleepless nights—the beautiful country—the blooming groves—the gushing springs and the leaping fountains—wading creeks—fighting battles—sweeping valley—carrying a sword in one hand and a torch in the other—staining the roads and the projecting rocks with blood—swimming a river, and a hundred other minor incidents are now being painted in pen pictures for those at home.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 159

Friday, December 31, 2021

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: Sunday, July 10, 1864

18th Corps HOSPITAL, Point of Rocks. I have been here a little more than a week and begin to feel a little rested. I have not written a letter for more than a month and about everything has been neglected. I hung around the regiment as long as Ass’t Surgeon Hoyt would allow me to, and the first of the month he piled me into an ambulance and sent me here, saying I could have a much better celebration here than I could in the trenches. This was my first ride in an ambulance and I didn't enjoy it worth a cent. I have always had a strong aversion to that kind of conveyance and have always clung to the hope that I might be spared from it. My health began to fail early in the spring. I said nothing about it, thinking I should improve as the weather grew warmer, but instead of improving I grew worse, until now I am unfit for anything. At first I was terribly afflicted with piles, then chills and fever, and now I have a confirmed liver complaint which no amount of blue mass, calomel or acids affect in the least unless it is to help it along. I reckon if I can keep pretty quiet and can hold out till I get home I shall stand a chance to recover from it, but it will be a slow job.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 140

Thursday, April 29, 2021

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, October 2, 1864

HARRISONBURG, VIRGINIA, Sunday, October 2, 1864.

DEAREST: — I am writing to you so often these days because I am thinking of you more anxiously than usual, and on account of the great uncertainty of our communications. There are some indications today that we shall push on further south. You will know if we do by the papers. If so we shall be cut off from friends more than ever.

Dr. Joe has gone with the First Brigade out about six miles to grind up the wheat at some mills in that quarter. It seems to be a great place for sport. They are having a jolly time.

We hear from Winchester today. One of our orderlies, Johnny Kaufman, died of his wound. Captain Hastings and the rest are all doing well.

Great droves of cattle and sheep are going past us north. Everything eatable is taken or destroyed. No more supplies to Rebels from this valley. No more invasions in great force by this route will be possible.

P. M. - Indications look more like going on with our campaign. I would prefer going towards my darling and the chicks. Still, I like to move. We came here a week ago. After this active year I feel bored when we stop longer than a day or two. I have tried all available plans to spend time. I read old Harpers, two of Mrs. Hall's novels, — you know I don't "affect" women's novels. I find myself now reading “East Lynne.” Nothing superior in it, but I can read anything.

For the first time in five or six days, we are just startled by cannon firing and musketry, perhaps four or five miles in our front. It is probably Rebel cavalry pitching into our foraging parties, or making a reconnaisance to find whether we have left.

"Have your men under arms,” comes from General Crook. I ask, "Is it thought to be anything?" "No, but General Sheridan sends the order to us." Well, we get under arms. This letter is put in my ammunition box. I mount my horse and see that all are ready. The firing gets more distant and less frequent. "We have driven them,” somebody conjectures, and I return to my tent, “East Lynne," and my darling, no wiser than ever.

I am in receipt of yours of [the] 13th. The mail goes back immediately. Good-bye. Blessings on your head.

Affectionately ever,
R.
MRS. HAYES.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 520-1

Diary of Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Tuesday,October 4, 1864

My birthday—forty-two. Wrote to mother. Lieutenant Meigs killed last night by guerrillas, three miles south of camp. Houses on the road for five miles burned by order of General Sheridan. Not according to my views or feelings.*

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* The order was mitigated. Only a few houses near the scene of the murder were burned.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 522

Sunday, November 22, 2020

Emory Upton to Maria Upton, February 25, 1857

February 25, 1857.

DEAR SISTER: . . . I am glad to hear of your good health and assiduity to study, and that you are exerting every faculty in the laudable pursuit of education. I am striving equally hard for the same. I am sure that few have the facilities offered for getting an education which I have, and not to take advantage of these privileges is inconsistent. I study from 6 to 7 A. M., and from 8 A. M. to 1 P. M., including recitations; then from 2 to 4 P. M. I read newspapers and write letters; from 4 P. M. till sundown is release from quarters, which I usually spend in the library reading, and then study from 7 to 9.30 P. M.; so that you see my time is pretty well occupied. Perhaps a few of my daily marks would give you an idea of my progress. . . . So long as I can keep up to these marks I am not in danger of being found deficient. . . . I am passionately attached to West Point, and would not give up my appointment here for a million dollars.  I want you to come here next encampment and see the beautiful scenery that I have often tried to describe.

 SOURCE: Peter Smith Michie, The Life and Letters of Emory Upton, p. 12-13

Wednesday, October 7, 2020

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: May 11, 1862

MR. BOGEY. 

This place is what is called a turpentine plantation, where they get the pitch from which turpentine is distilled. The owner, Mr. Bogey, a harmless, inoffensive old gentleman, claims to be a Union man, and I reckon he is, because he does not run away or seem to be afraid of us. He tells me he owns 2000 acres of land, nearly all turpentine forest, and has 10,000 trees running pitch. He said the war had ruined him and thinks it has the whole south. He said the rebels had taken all but one of his horses and about everything else he had that they wanted. His niggers had all left him and gone down town. He expected that when we came, but cared very little about it, as he had only a few and they were about as much trouble and expense to him as they were worth. He said he was getting old, his business was all broke up and by the time the war was over and things settled he would be too old for anything. I asked him if all those pigs running about in the woods were his. He reckoned they were. I inquired if he knew how many he had. He couldn’t tell exactly, but reckoned there was right smart. The thought occurred to me that if that was as near as he could tell, if a few of them were gobbled they would never be missed, provided the squeal could be shut off quick enough. I learn that Gen. Burnside has given Mr. Bogey a protection, whatever that is. That perhaps may do well enough for him, but I should not want to warrant it a sure thing for all these pigs and sheep running about here. 

CAMP BULLOCK. 

Our camp is named Camp Bullock, in honor of Alex. H. Bullock of Worcester, Mass. Today the boys are busy writing letters home, and it troubles them to tell where to date their letters from. They invent all sorts of names; some of them with a romantic turn of mind, date from Camp Rural, Woodlawn, Forestdale, Riverdale, etc., but Mason, with a more practical turn of mind, dates his from Hell Centre. The boys who were out in the woods last night say it is great fun, although they were not disturbed; there is just enough excitement and mosquitoes to keep them from getting drowsy. 

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 56-7

Tuesday, September 22, 2020

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: April 1, 1862


WE LOSE OUR MAJOR.

I learn that Major McCafferty has resigned and is going to leave us. I am sorry to learn that his ambition for fame is so soon gratified. I think a good deal of the major and shall miss him very much. He is a man of great good nature and a good deal of a humorist, and at times he makes considerable sport for the boys. The major's resignation creates a vacancy which, according to military rules will be filled by the ranking captain which is Capt. Pickett of company A. This will change the formation of the line, bringing company B on the left, and ranking second in the line. So, step by step, we ascend the ladder of fame.
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LIVING HIGH.

. . . . . . . We are now living in clover, having little else to do but to keep ourselves, clothes, arms and equipments clean and in good order. We do a little guard duty and the rest of the time is spent in reading, writing, card-playing and walking about town, seeing the fun and enjoying ourselves. Our rations are of good quality and variety. We now have our fresh beef three times a week, with all the soft bread we want. With our government rations, and what we can buy, such as oysters, fresh fish, chickens, eggs, sweet potatoes, etc., we are running at a high rate of speed. We often contrast this with our life at the inlet.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 52

Thursday, July 16, 2020

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: February 2, 1862

A high wind prevailed this morning and the sea was somewhat rough; the boat had considerable motion, but the boys had their sea legs on, so it caused them very little trouble.

HIGH LIVING.

Our company cooks, with commendable enterprise and industry and with an eye to our present well being, furnished us with baked beans and hot coffee for breakfast. This was a great treat, and every man had all he wanted; a vote of thanks was given the cooks. For dinner boiled beef was served, the first we have had since leaving Fortress Monroe.

I hope this kind of fare will hold out, but fear we shall have a relapse of the worst kind. The chaplain held services in the saloon this morning and afternoon. The boys spent most of the day writing letters, reading newspapers and making up their diaries.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 31

Friday, May 1, 2020

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