Wet, cold, windy; sleet last night. Five companies of the
Thirtieth came up last night. Little or no preparations to shelter them — all
their field officers gone. A sorry plight.
At dinner today with Captain Sperry and Lieutenant Kennedy,
I was handed the following dispatch:
Cincinnati,
December 23, 1861.
Lieutenant-Colonel R. B. Hayes, Twenty-third Regiment.
Wife and boy doing well. Stranger
arrived Saturday evening, nine o'clock P. M.
J.
T. Webb
Good! Very! I preferred a daughter, but in these times when
women suffer so much, I am not sure but we ought to rejoice that our girls are
boys. What shall I call him? What will Birt say, and Webb, and Babes? “Babes”
no longer. He is supplanted by the little stranger. Cold wind and snow-storm,
outside. Dear Lucy! I hope she will keep up good heart. I replied by telegraph:
“Congratulations and much love to mother and son. All well.”
SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and
Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 165
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