Diary of Edward Bates, Tuesday, May 3, 1859

I regret to find that Thomas Hare, coachman, is disagreeable to the rest of the servants, in consequence of which he has given me warning, last Sunday night.

Tom is intelligent, active and very expert in the management of horses and carriage; but I fear he is given to drink. He attributes his disagreement with the other servants to the difference of religion— They are all Roman Catholics, and he is an English Churchman.

I have spoken to Tom Farry to try and get me another man[.]

Dined with Mr. Lindell⁴⁴ today. As usual, he was very kind and respectful, and after dinner he insisted on taking me down town in his own carriage.

_______________

⁴⁴ Peter Lindell: wealthy merchant, real estate operator, and hotel owner; founder of the first packet-boat line between St. Louis and Pittsburgh; incorporator of the Missouri Insurance Company.

SOURCE: Howard K. Beale, Editor, Annual Report of The American Historical Association For The Year 1930, Vol. 4, The Diary Of Edward Bates, p. 14

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty, October 3, 1861

To-night, half an hour ago, received a dispatch from the top of Cheat, which reads as follows:

All back. Made a very interesting reconnoissance. Killed a large number of the enemy. Very small loss on our side.

 

J. J. REYNOLDS,                 

Brigadier-General.

Why, when the battle was progressing so advantageously for our side, did they not go on? This, then, is the result of the grand demonstration on the other side of the mountain.

McDougal's company returned, and report the enemy fallen back.

The frost has touched the foliage, and the mountain peaks look like mammoth bouquets; green, red, yellow, and every modification of these colors appear mingled in every possible fanciful and tasteful way.

Another dispatch has just come from the top of Cheat, written, I doubt not, after the Indianians had returned to camp and drawn their whisky ration. It sounds bigger than the first. I copy it:

Found the rebels drawn up in line of battle one mile outside of their fortifications, drove them back to their intrenchments, and continued the fight four hours. Ten of our men wounded and ten killed. Two or three hundred of the enemy killed.

If it be true that so many of the rebels were killed, it is probable, that two thousand at least were wounded; and when three hundred are killed and two thousand wounded, out of an army of twelve or fifteen hundred men, the business is done up very thoroughly. The dispatch which went to Richmond to-night, I have no doubt, stated that "the Federals attacked in great force, outnumbering us two or three to one, and after a terrific engagement, lasting five hours, they were repulsed at all points with great slaughter. Our loss one killed and five wounded. Federal loss, five hundred killed and twenty-five hundred wounded." Thus are victories won and histories made. Verily the pen is mightier than the sword.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, pp. 72-4

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne: December 21, 1862

Inspection of arms to-day and a sermon by the chaplain. We are thinking and talking of the letters we will get when we have a mail. Uncle Sam keeps track of us someway and sooner or later finds us. We have a regimental postmaster, who is expected every day from the city with a bag full. We have enough to fill him up on his return trip. The Arago is unloading all our belongings, which looks as if we were to stay here. Good-bye, Arago! I wish there was a kettle big enough to boil you and your bugs in before you take on another load. So many are sick the well ones are worked the harder for it. I still rank amoung the well ones and am busy at something all the time. Just now I have been put in place of fifth sergenat, who among other duties sees that the company has its fair share of rations, and anything else that is going. I also attend sick call every morning, which amounts to this. The sick call sounds and the sick of Company B fall in line and I march them to the doctor's office, where they are examined. Some get a dose of whiskey and quinine, some are ordered to the hospital and some are told to report for duty again. Dr. Andrus and I play checkers every chance we get. We neither play a scientific game, but are well matched and make some games last a long time. He is helping my throat and my cough is not so bad lately. Our quarters were turned into a smoke house to-day. An old stove without a pipe is going and some stinking stuff is burning that nothing short of a grayback can stand. It is expected to help our condition, and there is lots of chance for it.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 75-6

Diary of Private John C. West, Friday, May 22, 1863

Left Raleigh about 9 o'clock yesterday morning. The road from Raleigh to Weldon is the most crooked and through the most broken country I ever saw. Every foot of it is over an embankment or through a deep cut. The land along the route is all poor and barren and yet there are some beautiful residences and the people seem to be doing well. How they live I cannot tell. There were occasionally fine apple orchards and clover fields. I had the good fortune to meet up with Mr. Carpenter, a member of the North Carolina legislature. He was a pleasant companion and had some genuine whiskey, having married the heiress of a distiller. I made also the acquaintance of an old gentleman named Miller, who was on his way to Richmond to see two wounded nephews, one of whom had lost an arm; he also had some whiskey, which he said came from the drug store and must be good. He had also some cakes, good ham and fresh butter, which I enjoyed very much. He is a Baptist and is acquainted with Mr. Lemmond, of Waco, Texas. We reached Weldon about 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and as the cars were not to start until 9 o'clock, I concluded to take a stroll. I obtained a drink of the coldest water I ever drank and observed the address of Captain H. A. Troutman on a box, which put me on the lookout for him. I soon met him and we had a long talk on old college times. He had married a Miss Napier. John Neely is dead; Miss Lou is married to Ed. McClure. Billy Clifton has become a devout Baptist. Charley Boyd, John McLemore and Lucius Gaston are all killed; murdered by fanatical vandals; ten thousand mercenaries cannot pay for such men as these. They helped to make and adorn the character of a noble people. They were all my college friends. We loved each other and cherished common hopes of a happy future.

I went to supper with Troutman. He boards with the post commissary, who, of course, gets a little of everything. We had light rolls, scrambled eggs, genuine coffee, salmon, etc., for supper. The commissary is run by Mr. Peterson, brother of Judge Peterson, of San Antonio, Texas. We left Weldon at 9 o'clock and jogged along slowly until about 3 o'clock a. m., when we reached Petersburg. I shouldered my carpet-bag, overcoat and blanket and walked a mile to the depot. Cars left Petersburg about 5 o'clock a. m., and ran so slowly that I had ample time to inspect the country. When we came within eight miles of Richmond I observed a large amount of timber felled on either side of the road and fortifications thrown up to prevent the advance of the Yanks. When we came within three miles of Richmond one of the bars which connects the cars broke, and we were detained for half an hour or more, but another engine very opportunely came up behind us and pushed us on to Richmond. I found it a much more beautiful place than I had anticipated. The scenery in crossing James River is especially attractive. I put up at the American Hotel and spent the day in wandering "up and down" and "going to and fro" in it. I called on Miss Wigfall, Mrs. Chestnut, Miss Nannie Norton (who was absent), Miss Mary Fisher, Mr. and Mrs. Barnwell and met there Mrs. Carter. Called at the Cabinet Quarters and delivered to C. S. Senator Hon. James Chestnut, a letter (from Hon. Guy M. Bryan, of Texas) to the president. I went to the Ballard House to see Hon. H. P. Brewster, of Texas; was unable to find him. Delivered Mr. Carter's letter to Mr. Winston, who was too busy to notice me, so I retired. I gave him also the letter to Mrs. Benton. Dined with Colonel and Mrs. Chestnut, in company with Billy Preston, who is now major of artillery. Had fish and corn bread, rice and lettuce for dinner, with iced whiskey to wash it down. After dinner went to the Spotswood Hotel, met Captain Rice and Jimmy Winn, also Minnie Moses, whom I have not seen for eight years. He is a clerk in some of the departments. I returned to Miss Mary Fisher's in the afternoon and left my overcoat in her charge. I am too tired to make comments, though I have seen a great deal to write about. I am writing this in the public room of the American Hotel about 11 o'clock at night. They have charged me $7.50 for supper, night's lodging and breakfast.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 49-52

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 27, 1863

Nicholasville, Ky. We are again enjoying the quiet of camp life. Our miniature tents are pitched in regular order, streets are policed and brigade guards posted to keep our unruly boys within bounds.

Colonel Luce, five line officers and twenty privates have gone home on furlough—others to Cincinnati on leave of absence. Everything indicates a period of rest. Our boys are trying to make up for their privations "down below." Nearly every tent presents the appearance of a market for the sale of fruit or vegetables.

Potatoes, peaches, apples, cabbages, onions, watermelons and green corn are piled in heaps or lie around loose throughout the camp. Then we have artists, too. Two Daguerian cars are running full blast, where the boys get indifferent pictures at one dollar each. I saw a great curiosity today—a relic of bygone ages. About a mile from camp there is a shop where the old-fashioned spinning wheel is manufactured on quite an extensive scale, and they find a ready sale. This is a fair index to the progress of the people. Their manners, forms of speech and customs all point to past ages. They are very loyal and very friendly when sober, but when filled with corn whiskey, hypocrisy and self-interest take a back seat, and they speak their real sentiments with a frankness and fluency that is not at all flattering to us "Yanks." From what I have seen, I conclude all Kentuckians drink whiskey. There are distilleries in every little town, where the "genuine article" is turned out. I called at a farm house one day for a drink of water. The good woman was catechising her son—a lad of ten or twelve years about ten cents she had given him with which to buy some little notion at the store. She gave me a drink of water, then, turning to the young hopeful, angrily inquired, "But where's that ten cents I gave you?" "I guv five cents to Bill." "Where's the other five?" "Bought my dram with it." The explanation appeared satisfactory.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 78-9

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 30, 1863

Crab Orchard, Ky. We arrived at 10 a. m., making ten miles from Lancaster this morning. Crab Orchard is a lovely town of about one thousand inhabitants. We are encamped about one mile south of the village, in a lovely spot, shut in on all sides by high hills and forests. To the south, far in the distance, the Cumberland Mountains raise their blue peaks as landmarks to guide us on our course when next we move.

From what I see and hear of the surrounding country, the boys will have to depend on their rations for food.

Soldiers are strange beings. No sooner were our knapsacks unslung than every man of us went to work as though his very life depended on present exertions. We staked out streets, gathered stakes and poles with which to erect our tents, and now, at 3 p. m., behold! a city has arisen, like a mushroom, from the ground. Everything is done as though it were to be permanent, when no man knows how long we may remain or how soon we may move on.

Part of our route from Camp Parks lay through a country made historic by the chivalric deeds of Daniel Boone. We passed his old log fort, and the high bluff from which he hurled an Indian and dashed him in pieces on the rocks below. At the foot of the bluff is the cave in which he secreted himself when hard pressed by savages. His name is chiseled in the rock above the entrance. The place is now being strongly fortified.

We had a lively skirmish in Company G this morning. About a week ago the Brigade Surgeon ordered quinine and whiskey to be issued to every man in the brigade, twice daily. During our march the quinine had been omitted, but whiskey was dealt out freely.

Solon Crandall—the boy who picked the peaches while under fire at South Mountain—is naturally pugnacious, and whiskey makes him more so. This morning, while under the influence of his "ration," he undertook the difficult task of "running" Company G.

Captain Tyler, hearing the "racket," emerged from his tent and inquired the cause. At this Solon, being a firm believer in "non-intervention," waxed wroth. In reply he told the Captain, "It's none of your business. Understand, I am running this company, and if you don't go back to your tent and mind your own business, I'll have you arrested and sent to the bull pen. At this the Captain "closed" with his rival in a rough-and-tumble fight, in which the Captain, supported by a Sergeant, gained the day.

I have the most comfortable quarters now I have ever had. Our tent is composed of five pieces of canvas, each piece the size of our small tents—two for the top, or roof, the eaves three feet from the ground. The sides and ends are made to open one at a time or all at once, according to the weather. Three of us tent together, and we have plenty of room. We have bunks made of boards, raised two feet from the ground. This, with plenty of straw, makes a voluptuous bed. I received a letter from home last evening, dated August 13th. Oh, these vexatious postal delays; they are the bane of my life. I wonder if postmasters are human beings, with live hearts inside their jackets, beating in sympathetic unison with other hearts. I wonder did they ever watch and wait, day after day, until hope was well-nigh dead, conscious that love had sped its message and was anxiously awaiting a return. A letter from home! What thrilling emotions of pleasure; what unfathomable depths of joy it brings the recipient. It is not altogether the words, be they many or few, but the remembrances they call forth; the recognition of the well-known handwriting; old associations and past scenes are brought forth from the storehouse of the memory and held up to view. The joy of meeting—the agony of parting—all are lived over again.

We are having brigade inspection today, which is suggestive of a move, but our artillery has not turned up yet, and we will not take the field without it.

The health of our men has improved wonderfully since we reached Kentucky. A more rugged, hearty set of men I never saw than the few who are left. But, as I look around upon the noble fellows, now drawn up in line for inspection, a feeling of sadness steals over me. One short year ago nine hundred ninety-eight as brave, true men as ever shouldered gun marched forth to battle in their country's cause. Of all that noble band, only two hundred in line today. Where are the absent ones? Some, it is true, are home on furlough, but not all. They have left a bloody track from South Mountain's gory height through Antietam, Fredericksburg and Vicksburg to Jackson, Mississippi.

Oh, how I miss familiar faces!

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 86-89

Diary of Major Joseph Stockton, April 18, 1863

Received four months' pay, which was of the greatest service to the officers and men and put all in a good humor. Sutlers shops were patronized extensively and the express office crowded with soldiers sending money to the loved ones at home. On the other side, gambling is carried on extensively till the sharpers have fleeced the green ones out of their last cent. Officers try their best to prevent it, but the men will steal away whenever they can get a chance. It is about as hard to keep them from gambling as getting whisky, and where an officer could not get a drop men can get all they want.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 12

Diary of Private John C. West, Tuesday, May 5, 1863

Yesterday evening there were heavy clouds and a good deal of lightning in the North; after supper laid down on the deck and slept very comfortable until awakened by a heavy rain; gathered up my blanket and crowded into the state room, which proved to be almost suffocating. I was very sleepy, so went down in the engine room and slept until morning, crosswise on two barrels of rum; waked up quite refreshed to enjoy the beautiful scenery on the banks of the Ouachita, among the most picturesque of which was a high bluff on which was a single grave; a romantic lady, the wife of a pilot, was buried there by her request, where her gentle spirit might keep vigil over the destinies of her husband. We stopped during the morning to take an old rail fence for fuel; a soldier shot a hog, which gave us fresh pork for dinner; found some very nice mulberries on shore and wished my children, little Stark and Mary, had some of them. Had a very pleasant trip on to Hamburg; went ashore there and got transportation to Trinity; after supper proceeded down to the river and met the steamer, Tucker; stopped and had a talk and got the Natchez Courier.

Forgot to say above that I met Dr. Rock on this steamer; learned from him that Lieutenant Brandon was at Pine Bluff on the 8th of April, and was going to Virginia. Dr. Rock is on his way to Richmond. We reached Trinity about 12 o'clock at night, on Tuesday, the 5th, and have not stopped long enough during the day to write up this diary, and at night had no light; left the Trinity in a skiff with five others; proceeded up the Ouachita for about six miles; then into Brushy Bayou; after following this for about two miles the thorns and bushes were so troublesome that we had to get to land and walk about four miles, while the negroes worked the skiff through. In this walk I got far enough ahead of the skiff to take a nap; laid down on the ground and slept gloriously for an hour; would have enjoyed it more with a blanket to lie on. At the end of this walk we had a very good breakfast by paying five dollars a dozen for some eggs and furnishing our own coffee, and then paying two dollars a piece for breakfast. After breakfast pulled the skiff overland into Cane Bayou, and proceeded up this for six miles to Turtle Lake, a beautiful sheet of water three miles long; from this we entered Cocoda Bayou, which we followed for eight miles into Concordia Lake, up which we rowed for seven or eight miles, which landed us about three miles from Natchez. All this skiff trip is through just such a country as an alligator would thrive in; affording fine facilities for fishing and duck shooting; no one but a Newfoundland dog would enjoy it. We procured a cart to take our baggage to the Mississippi river; crossed in a skiff to Natchez; remained there all night and left Thursday morning for Brookhaven; stopped at Dr. Holden's and got the second good dinner I have had since I left home; reached McDaniel's at dark and found it quite a nice place, and met here that rare creature of the West an old maid; she seems to be quite a nice person and I think has been doomed to this state of single felicity by circumstances for which she is not responsible. We got a good breakfast at 4 o'clock in the morning, which enabled us to reach Brockhaven (where I am now writing) by 10 o'clock. On the road to this place I passed a bridge which Grierson's Cavalry had destroyed, and here I see the remains of the depot which they burned. These are the first practical examples of Yankee vandalism I have seen during the war. I expect to leave here to-day at 2 o'clock.

Reached Jackson at 6 o'clock and found the train for Meridian about to start and had no time to get transportation, and so have to remain here against my will until to-morrow evening. All these days which I have been delayed I had hoped to spend in Columbia, South Carolina.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, p. 33-6

Diary of Private John C. West, Wednesday, May 13, 1863

Left Montgomery in a crowded train of cars; when we reached the coal station found a suspicious personage, of whom the guard took charge; he had no papers and said he was a substitute for a nephew of Dr. Green, of Fort Valley, and that his papers were in possession of a squad who had left him at Montgomery, he having some other friends there, and becoming too convivial to leave. He said he had paid a policeman one hundred dollars to let him out and then walked to the coal station. I wrote a letter for him to Dr. Green, explaining the circumstance and asking his assistance. This little affair gave the curious some excitement.

About the time I reached West Point a gentleman named J. J. Thrasher, of Atlanta, introduced himself and made inquiries about Mrs. Nelson, wife of Col. Allison Nelson, or "Mary," as he affectionately termed her. He seemed to know all about the family and gave me their history and said their father, Mr. Green, was one of his best friends. He also asked after Mr. Knight; spoke very highly of him and said that his father, his uncles and aunts, Mr. and Mrs. Mangum and Avery, had all died within the last three months. I gradually became sociable enough with Mr. Thrasher and his daughter to enjoy their lunch very much, the first delicacies of the kind that I have seen since I left Texas.

Soon afterwards a very kind old gentleman named John A. Broughton asked me to take a seat by him, and informed me that he had once been to Texas and farmed in Fayette county, but concluded to return. He is about the third man I have met who was ever able to get away from Texas after being once fixed there. He is, however, worth a million of dollars and has only two children. He offered me money and divided his lunch with me. I parted with him at Madison about 12 o'clock at night.

The cars being very much crowded, I offered a neat looking person a seat by me. He seemed to be very communicative, and gave me a full history of his experiments in distilling, and of his daughter's progress at Northern schools, which he greatly preferred to Southern. He told me his name was ———, and that he was a first cousin of Judge ———, of —— in Texas, whom I knew very well. He gave me a very minute account of the circumstances under which the Judge left Georgia. It amounted in substance to this: The Judge took part and assisted an editor in writing a very scurrilous article, commenting on the conduct of a state senator, Mr. ———.

The senator was offended and was about to call the editor to account for the article, when the editor shot and killed him, and Judge ——— left because he feared that his testimony would convict his friend. My informant added further that it was thought by some that the trial would develop facts which might show Judge to be accessory to the killing, etc. This entire circumstance, of which I had heard vague and indefinite rumors in Texas, was related to me voluntarily, without a hint on my part that I had ever heard of it before, and without a question to draw him out particularly on the subject. He seemed to be very candid and loquacious on all subjects, and gave me a very minute history of his own domestic affairs.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, p. 37-9

Excursion to Hyde Park.

Under the excellent lead of H. E. Sargent, Esq., of the Michigan Central Railroad, a very pleasant excursion party visited Hyde Park from this city, drawn mainly from the Massachusetts delegation. They passed several hours in the spacious parlors and verandahs of the Hyde Park House, extracted divers corks, and made the city in good style about 6 o’clock. Gilmore’s splendid Boston Band, who are to give their concert at Metropolitan Hall this evening, accompanied the party, and discoursed notes on which here is surely no “discount.”

SOURCE: “Excursion to Hyde Park,” The Press and Tribune, Chicago, Illinois, Wednesday, May 16, 1860, p. 4, col. 6

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Wednesday, June 22, 1864

The first day of the month that it has not rained. The man shot last night is carried out dead this morning. By trading some, we are enabled to increase our rations to about half we could eat under normal conditions.

Selden, the Rebel quartermaster, has set up a sutler shop on main street on the north side, with a view of absorbing Yankee money men are starved to spend. The fact that some of the stuff on sale is the same as that issued to prisoners justifies suspicion that he had a reason for cutting down our rations. He attempts to whitewash this matter by putting two prisoners in charge, Charles Huckleby, of the 8th Tennessee, and Ira Beverly, of the 100th Ohio. Nevertheless we are told by Rebel sergeants that he has a commission from Richmond. He only appears, however, once every day. These boys expect to live better while in his service, but admit that the profits are "gobbled" by Selden; that he furnishes the stuff and fixes prices. It seems an unlikely place to make money, but the few who have any spend it fast and pay high prices. While exchange in Federal money is prohibited by Rebel law, it is openly done everywhere by Rebels, and in this case by a "C. S. A." military officer. Articles in stock consist of flour, molasses, small sticks of wood, plug tobacco, a vicious sort of whisky made from sorghum. These things appeal to starved appetites of thousands; and those who have money cannot resist the temptation to let it go. Though this is poor stuff, it is better than the scant rations irregularly issued. We have to pay from 25c to $1 for an onion, 10c to 40c for miserable apples, 25c a pint for meal, 40c for wormy hog peas, 40c for 1½ pint of flour, 10c for small piece of wood. With the advent of this institution rations grow less in quantity and quality. It is simply a scheme of this Rebel quartermaster to catch greenbacks, watches, rings, and things of value which men eagerly put up. It is not instituted with a view to benefit us. If such were the object, why do they extort such prices, why are rations cut down, why are we cheated out of one day in five by not getting rations?

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 77-8

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: August 20, 1861

These mountain streams are unreliable. We had come to regard the one on which we are encamped as a quiet, orderly little river, that would be good enough to notify us when it proposed to swell out and overflow the adjacent country. In fact we had bragged about it, made all sorts of complimentary mention of it, put our tents on its margin, and allowed it to encircle our sick and wounded; but we have now lost all confidence in it. Yesterday, about noon, it began to rise. It had been raining, and we thought it natural enough that the waters should increase a little. At four o'clock it had swelled very considerably, but still kept within its bed of rock and gravel, and we admired it all the more for the energy displayed in hurrying along branches, logs, and sometimes whole trees. At six o'clock we found it was rising at the rate of one foot per hour, and that the water had now crept to within a few feet of the hospital tent, in which lay two wounded and a dozen or more of sick. Dr. McMeens became alarmed and called for help. Thirty or more boys stripped, swam to the island, and removed the hospital to higher ground-to the highest ground, in fact, which the island afforded. The boys returned, and we felt safe. At seven o'clock, however, we found the river still rising rapidly. It covered nearly the whole island. Logs, brush, green trees, and all manner of drift went sweeping by at tremendous speed, and the water rushed over land which had been dry half an hour before, with apparently as strong a current as that in the channel. We knew then that the sick and wounded were in danger. How to rescue them was now the question. A raft was suggested; but a raft could not be controlled in such a current, and if it went to pieces or was hurried away, the sick and wounded must drown. Fortunately a better way was suggested; getting into a wagon, I ordered the driver to go above some distance, so that we could move with the current, and then ford the stream. After many difficulties, occasioned mainly by floating logs and driftwood, and swimming the horses part of the way, we succeeded in getting over. I saw it was impossible to carry the sick back, and that there was but one way to render them secure. I had the horses unhitched, and told the driver to swim them back and bring over two or three more wagons. Two more finally reached me, and one team, in attempting to cross, was carried down stream and drowned. I had the three wagons placed on the highest point I could find, then chained together and staked securely to the ground. Over the boxes of two of these we rolled the hospital tent, and on this placed the sick and wounded, just as the water was creeping upon us. On the third wagon we put the hospital stores. It was now quite dark. Not more than four feet square of dry land remained of all our beautiful island; and the river was still rising. We watched the water with much anxiety. At ten o'clock it reached the wagon hubs, and covered every foot of the ground; but soon after we were pleased to see that it began to go down a little. Those of us who could not get into the wagons had climbed the trees. At one o'clock it commenced to rain again, when we managed to hoist a tent over the sick. At two o'clock the long-roll, the signal for battle, was beaten in camp, and we could just hear, above the roar of the water, the noise made by the men as they hurriedly turned out and fell into line.

It will not do, however, to conclude that this was altogether a night of terrors. It was, in fact, not so very disagreeable after all. There was a by-play going on much of the time, which served to illuminate the thick darkness, and divert our minds from the gloomier aspects of the scene. Smith, the teamster who brought me across, had returned to the mainland with the horses, and then swam back to the island. By midnight he had become very drunk. One of the hospital attendants was very far gone in his cups, also. These two gentlemen did not seem to get along amicably; in fact, they kept up a fusillade of words all night, and so kept us awake. The teamster insisted that the hospital attendant should address him as Mr. Smith. The Smith family, he argued, was of the highest respectability, and being an honored member of that family, he would permit no man under the rank of a Major-General to call him Jake. George McClellan sometimes addressed him by his christian name; but then George and he were Cincinnatians, old neighbors, and intimate personal friends, and, of course, took liberties with each other. This could not justify one who carried out pukes and slop-buckets from a field hospital in calling him Jake, or even Jacob.

Mr. Smith's allusions to the hospital attendant were not received by that gentleman in the most amiable spirit. He grew profane, and insisted that he was not only as good a man as Smith, but a much better one, and he dared the bloviating mule scrubber to get down off his perch and stand up before him like a man. But Jake's temper remained unruffled, and along toward morning, in a voice more remarkable for strength than melody, he favored us with a song:

Ho! gif ghlass uf goodt lauger du me;

  Du mine fadter, mine modter, mine vife:

Der day's vork vos done, undt we'll see

  Vot bleasures der vos un dis life,

 

Undt ve sit us aroundt mit der table,

  Undt ve speak uf der oldt, oldt time,

Ven we lif un dot house mit der gable,

  Un der vine-cladt banks uf der Rhine;

 

Undt mine fadter, his voice vos a quiver,

  Undt mine modter; her eyes vos un tears,

Ash da dthot uf dot home un der river,

  Undt kindt friendst uf earlier years;

 

Undt I saidt du mine fadter be cheerie,

  Du mine modter not longer lookt sadt,

Here's a blace undt a rest for der weary,

  Und ledt us eat, drink, undt be gladt.

 

So idt ever vos cheerful mitin;

  Vot dtho' idt be stormy mitoudt,

Vot care I vor der vorld undt idts din,

  Ven dose I luf best vos about;

 

So libft up your ghlass, mine modter,

  Undt libft up yours, Gretchen, my dear,

Undt libft up your lauger, mine fadter,

  Undt drink du long life und good cheer.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 58-62

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: April 3, 1865

Another clear and bright morning. It was a quiet night, with its million of stars. And yet how few could sleep, in anticipation of the entrance of the enemy! But no enemy came until 9 A.M., when some 500 were posted at the Capitol Square. They had been waited upon previously by the City Council, and the surrender of the city stipulated—to occur this morning. They were asked to post guards for the protection of property from pillage, etc., and promised to do so.

At dawn there were two tremendous explosions, seeming to startle the very earth, and crashing the glass throughout the western end of the city. One of these was the blowing up of the magazine, near the new almshouse—the other probably the destruction of an iron-clad ram. But subsequently there were others. I was sleeping soundly when awakened by them.

All night long they were burning the papers of the Second Auditor's office in the street—claims of the survivors of deceased soldiers, accounts of contractors, etc.

At 7 A. M. Committees appointed by the city government visited the liquor shops and had the spirits (such as they could find) destroyed. The streets ran with liquor; and women and boys, black and white, were seen filling pitchers and buckets from the gutters.

A lady sold me a bushel of potatoes in Broad Street for $75, Confederate States money—$5 less than the price a few days ago.

I bought them at her request. And some of the shops gave clothing to our last retiring guards.

Goods, etc. at the government depots were distributed to the poor, to a limited extent, there being a limited amount.

A dark volume of smoke rises from the southeastern section of the city, and spreads like a pall over the zenith. It proceeds from the tobacco warehouse, ignited, I suppose, hours ago, and now just bursting forth.

At 8½ A.M. The armory, arsenal, and laboratory (Seventh and Canal Streets), which had been previously fired, gave forth terrific sounds from thousands of bursting shells. This continued for more than an hour. Some fragments of shell fell within a few hundred yards of my house.

The pavements are filled with pulverized glass.

Some of the great flour mills have taken fire from the burning government warehouses, and the flames are spreading through the lower part of the city. A great conflagration is apprehended.

The doors of the government bakery (Clay Street) were thrown open this morning, and flour and crackers were freely distributed, until the little stock was exhausted. I got a barrel of the latter, paying a negro man $5 to wheel it home—a short distance.

Ten A.M. A battery (United States) passed my house, Clay Street, and proceeded toward Camp Lee. Soon after the officers returned, when I asked the one in command if guards would be placed in this part of the city to prevent disturbance, etc. He paused, with his suite, and answered that such was the intention, and that every precaution would be used to preserve order. He said the only disturbances were caused by our people. I asked if there was any disturbance. He pointed to the black columns of smoke rising from the eastern part of the city, and referred to the incessant bursting of shell. I remarked that the storehouses had doubtless been ignited hours previously. To this he assented, and assuring me that they did not intend to disturb us, rode on. But immediately meeting two negro women laden with plunder, they wheeled them to the right about, and marched them off, to the manifest chagrin of the newly emancipated citizens.

Eleven A.M. I walked down Brad Street to the Capitol Square. The street was filled with negro troops, cavalry and infantry, and were cheered by hundreds of negroes at the corners.

I met Mr. T. Cropper (lawyer from the E. Shore) driving a one-horse wagon containing his bedding and other property of his quarters. He said he had just been burnt out—at Belom's Block—and that St. Paul's Church (Episcopal) was, he thought, on fire. This I found incorrect; but Dr. Reed's (Presbyterian) was in ruins. The leaping and lapping flames were roaring in Main Street up to Ninth; and Goddin's Building (late General PostOffice) was on fire, as well as all the houses in Governor Street up to Franklin.

The grass of Capitol Square is covered with parcels of goods snatched from the raging conflagration, and each parcel guarded by a Federal soldier.

A general officer rode up and asked me what building that was—pointing to the old stone United States Custom House—late Treasury and State Departments, also the President's office. He said, "Then it is fire-proof, and the fire will be arrested in this direction." He said he was sorry to behold such destruction; and regretted that there was not an adequate supply of engines and other apparatus.

Shells are still bursting in the ashes of the armory, etc.

All the stores are closed; most of the largest (in Main Street) have been burned.

There are supposed to be 10,000 negro troops at Camp Lee, west of my dwelling.

An officer told me, 3 P.M., that a white brigade will picket the city to-night; and he assured the ladies standing near that there would not be a particle of danger of molestation. After 9 P.M., all will be required to remain in their houses. Soldiers or citizens, after that hour, will be arrested. He said we had done ourselves great injury by the fire, the lower part of the city being in ashes, and declared that the United States troops had no hand in it. I acquitted them of the deed, and told him that the fire had spread from the tobacco warehouses and military depots, fired by our troops as a military necessity.

Four P.M. Thirty-four guns announced the arrival of President Lincoln. He flitted through the mass of human beings in Capitol Square, his carriage drawn by four horses, preceded by out-riders, motioning the people, etc. out of the way, and followed by a mounted guard of thirty. The cortege passed rapidly, precisely as I had seen royal parties ride in Europe.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 467-70

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Monday, February 24, 1862

Orders came in the afternoon to get ready to march the coming day. New knapsacks were issued, and rations kept ready for three days. Great times in camp, especially in the sixth detachment, all the rations on hand being sold to Benson's for whiskey. Who would not remember S. that evening, the stove, and O! Su!

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 33

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, October 4, 1863

EMPIRE HOSPITAL, ATLANTA, GA., Oct. 4th.

SINCE the 20th of August, I have had little opportunity, and less inclination, to write in my diary. About the 10th of September, Gregg's Brigade received orders to take the cars for Atlanta, Ga., and we were soon on our way via Mobile, where mean whisky upset some of the boys. At Montgomery, I went to the theatre and witnessed a very poor play. On the way from this place to Atlanta, a soldier was killed by falling between the cars while running. On arrival at Atlanta, we camped two days near the city, and then took the train for Resaca, on the road to Chattanooga, where we again rested for two days. In leaving Atlanta, I became separated from the regiment, which left at 7 o'clock P.M., and did not get off until the next morning, when I succeeded in getting aboard of the train carrying the Fiftieth Tennessee, General Gregg and Staff, and the brigade commissary stores. Three miles north of Marietta, the car containing the subsistance broke down, and had to be thrown off the track; consequently, about twenty-five of us had to walk back to Marietta and wait for the next train. The order turned out to be a piece of good fortune for the party, as the train we left was run into by a down train that night and completely demolished-eighteen men being killed and seventy-five wounded, mostly of the Fiftieth Tennessee. This accident occurred on Sunday night, September 13th. On Monday, I got on board the passenger train, and, after a run of a few miles, the rear coach ran off, but no one was seriously injured, though the escape was miraculous. This accident occurred at Big Shanty, and here I had to remain until the following day, when I was enabled to get through to my regiment at Resaca without further delay. Wednesday morning, we were again en route to Ringgold, and reached the burnt bridge, two miles below that town, just at night-fall. Soon after, the Forty-fourth Tennessee came up and camped near us. In this regiment we found many friends and acquaintances. Thursday morning, we had orders to cook two days' rations, but our supplies being behind, we could not do so. Saw where General Forrest had whipped the enemy a few days before. During the day we heard that a battle was expected every day between Bragg and Rosecrans, and that we were now in seven miles of the enemy's advance. General Bragg had increased his army by reinforcements from Virginia and Mississippi, and was supposed to have about sixty-five thousand men wherewith to match Rosecrans' one hundred thousand hitherto victorious and well-armed troops. Thursday evening, a courier announced to General Gregg that the enemy's cavalry had driven in our pickets beyond Ringgold, and were then in possession of the place. In a short time, the brigade was under arms and on the march. Had to wade the Chickamauga three times in going one-half a mile. Heard artillery firing ahead, but, after taking position on a hill overlooking the town, learned that Bushrod Johnson's Brigade had driven the enemy off. The brigade was then marched back to camps and ordered to cook four days' rations, which consumed the greater part of the night.

At 4 o'clock Friday morning, the march was resumed, with the understanding that there was to be a vigorous pursuit of the enemy. Gregg's and Johnson's Brigades were formed into a division under command of the latter—Colonel John S. Fulton succeeding him in command of the brigade. By daylight the troops were fairly in motion, and, passing through Ringgold, took a westerly course, which, in seven miles, brought us up with the enemy. Our line of battle was quickly formed in an open field, and ordered forward to the edge of the woods in which the enemy was supposed to be covered; but, after advancing some four hundred yards it was halted, and skirmishers were thrown forward. No hostile force was found, and, after a vigorous shelling of the woods, the brigade was moved by the left flank some distance and again ordered forward. The Chickamauga Creek was waded and the steep acclivities beyond were climbed in vigorous pursuit of the enemy, who showed no disposition to come to an engagement. The line of battle kept pushing ahead for several miles, through thickets and dense woods, until more open ground was reached, when a short halt was made to rectify the alignment; after which the advance was resumed, passing through a Yankee camp which had been abandoned a short while before. Just about dark our brigade came up with the enemy's skirmishers, and, the whole division joining in the yell with which the Thirtieth Tennessee opened the ball, these were quickly driven in. Night now being at hand, a halt was made and the men were ordered to sleep upon their arms. A general silence seemed to pervade both lines, in view of the prospect of a heavy battle on the morrow. The night was remarkably cool for the season of the year, and before morning we were allowed to unsling blankets for comfort. At sun-rise, September the 19th, our brigade was thrown into position on a rocky ridge along the west bank of the Chickamauga, and skirmishers thrown out in readiness for the attack which we had reason to believe the enemy would make during the morning; but it was near 10 o'clock before the battle opened with artillery and heavy musketry on the right. In our front every thing was quiet except the rattling of artillery-wagons, as they were being moved up to where the fighting was going on. The engagement gradually extended along the line until at midday it had reached the right of Johnson's Division, and the roar of conflict had been continuous.

We could hear Cheatham's men cheering as they charged and drove the enemy, and the feebler cheer of the other side as it took the offensive, and, in turn, drove Cheatham back.

About 2 o'clock, being on the skirmish line, my attention was drawn to matters more directly in our own vicinity by the whizzing of a few minnie bullets at the front. I then saw a brigade of "blue coats" approaching in splendid order at a double quick, and I apprised Lieutenant Chafin, the officer in command, of the fact; but every one said they were our own men, and it was concluded not to fire at any event until they came closer. When they were within two hundred yards or less, we saw they were Yanks, and no mistake, and firing one round we ran in, according to orders. I took deliberate aim at an officer on horseback, but never learned the effect of my shot. As we reached the main line it was kneeling and at a ready, and perfectly cool. The retiring skirmishers had hardly time to get into their places before the enemy appeared and opened fire with a heavy volley. Our boys now opened with a will, and a severe combat of thirty minutes ensued without any relative change on either side, when our opposers fell back out of range. Bledsoe's Missouri Battery aided materially in the repulse by its splendid firing, which it kept up after the enemy was beyond the range of musketry. About this time General Gregg rode up to Colonel Tillman, commanding the Forty-first, and told him to move forward and see what those fellows are doing down there in the heavy timber." The command was given to forward along the whole brigade, and forward we went in splendid order. At the foot of the hill a halt was called, while skirmishers were thrown out. Colonel Tillman ordered Lieutenant Chafin to detail some of his best men and deploy them as skirmishers at least three hundred yards in advance of the brigade; the three first files of company C were called for, and we went forward, deploying at a double quick, and firing as a "blue coat" came in view. We found the enemy lying down in line of battle waiting for us, and reported the fact. I heard General Gregg's stentorian "Forward!" and a wild yell, as the boys came on at a charge. We waited until they came up, and fell into our places. The whole division was yelling and firing as it went; the bushes were too thick to allow good order or much execution. The yell seemed to have done the work, for the enemy gave way, leaving their dead and wounded and throwing down their guns and knapsacks. The charge was kept up for a half mile, when progress was stopped by a heavy battery in front of Johnson's Brigade, and which we had to give them time to take, the order being for us to preserve line. While waiting here we learned that our gallant General Gregg had been severely, if not mortally, wounded. Colonel Walker, of the Third Tennessee, took command of the brigade. At this stage word was passed along the line that the enemy was moving up in our rear, and we were ordered to fall back, which was accomplished just in the nick of time. After reforming, a half wheel to the right was made to protect the flank, and this position was maintained the rest of the evening. Captain Feeney's Company was thrown forward as skirmishers as night was coming on. The fighting in front of our brigade was over for that day, but was still heavy on the left wing. Of the casualties in the brigade I knew nothing. In the Forty-first the loss was very light, considering that, for a time, we were exposed to a heavy cross fire. We had killed and wounded a great number of the enemy, and captured a few prisoners, besides a number of guns and knapsacks. Three-fourths of a mile of ground had been gained since morning. Of individual acts of heroism on the part of officers and men I will not speak, nor of the few who showed arrant cowardice at the first fire. At dark, Company C was relieved from skirmish duty by a company from the left of the brigade. James Wilson and myself, being detailed to go for water, set out with the canteens of the company, and walked about two miles before obtaining a supply. On our return we wandered about in the woods, completely lost, for about two hours, when we accidentally stumbled upon the line, just as we were about broken down and had given up in despair. During the night, logs and rocks were piled up as protection against bullets. The atmosphere was again quite cool and foggy. General Gregg was in advance of the line when he was wounded, and was left in the hands of the enemy for awhile, who rifled him of his sword, money and watch, and were taking him off the field when he feigned death and was left on the ground. His wound is in the neck, and not considered dangerous. Colonel Granberry, of the Seventh Texas, received a painful wound during the day. All of the other regiments suffered more than the Forty-first. Colonel Sugg, of the Fiftieth Tennessee, was wounded, but, after being attended by the surgeon, came back and took command of the brigade, which, in the meantime, had devolved upon Colonel Walker, of the Third.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 325-9

Diary of Private John C. West, Sunday, April 19, 1863

I rested well last night but had the most hideous dreams all night; Mrs. Brownnigg came in early this morning and asked me into her room; I went and found the fire very comfortable; the doctor came to see me and seems to think I am all right now, but must be careful about my diet; says some good brandy is exactly what I need to recruit on; so I missed it by leaving mine at home. Major Holman called to see me this morning; says he will see my transportation fixed all right; offers relief from the loss of my pocketbook; the doctor does likewise; Mrs. Brownnigg offers me money also. I ate nice toast and drank genuine coffee for breakfast; had chicken soup for dinner; spent most of the day in reading one of Bulwer's novels, entitled, "A Strange Story"; have read fifty or sixty pages, but am not much interested yet. My intention now is to leave here so as to remain at Alexandria the shortest time possible. I learn to-day that Mr. A, my hotel landlord, is tired of soldiers, especially sick ones, and grumbles terribly when one gets out of money at his hotel. If this is true, he is not a true man. I would rather be under obligations to the devil.

Little Bettie Brownnigg is quite a nice girl. Hallie Bacon, several years younger, is in a fair way to be spoiled. There is a young lady, Miss Nora Gregg, staying with Mrs. Brownnigg; she seems to be a clever good girl and is finishing my sock, which wife expected Miss Nannie Norton, of Richmond, Va., to knit for me; she has knit thirty pairs of socks in the last two months; she has a most magnificent suit of soft brown hair.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, p. 19-20

Diary of Private John C. West, Monday, April 20, 1863

I was asleep the greater part of last night, but cannot call it rest. Oh! those hideous dreams which haunted me. I went to a market on Bridge street in Waco, where human flesh, sound and putrid, was bought and sold. I bought and ate, and made my children eat, then dreamed again. Oh! such horrid, phantastic and awful visions as only opium can breed! Fearful crimes were calmly concocted, and the darkest mysteries were enjoyed with devilish glee! Everything which was unholy, everything fiendish, damnable and impure seemed ever present. But the night and the dream have past, and let them be past forever! I am not so well to-day as yesterday, but do not think I will need any more medicine.

Major Holman came to see me again this morning. Mr. Lewis, an old gentleman, formerly clerk of the Federal Court at Tyler, also came to see me. He is just from Huntsville, Alabama, and gave me suggestions as to the route across the Mississippi.

I took a whisky toddy this morning. Miss Beloy came in and brought a very fat, pretty baby, her little sister. She is an amiable looking girl-reminds me of sister Mac (Mrs. DeSanssure) as she looked in the golden old days when we were young and before so many friends had dropped like flowers in the tomb, and when Mac had lightly "supped sorrow." When I have tears to shed let them fall for the dread affliction of my friends, for Oh! how bitterly, bitterly my dear sisters, Mrs. M. B. and Mac DeS. have suffered!

Mrs. Bacon's little girl seems very sick to-day. I have been in Mrs. B.'s room lying on a lounge nearly all the morning.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, p. 20-1

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: August 15, 1861

I have a hundred axmen in my charge, felling timber on the mountain, and constructing rough breastworks to protect our left flank.

General Reynolds came up to-day to see De Lagniel. They are old acquaintances, were at West Point together, and know each other like brothers.

The irrepressible Corporal Casey, who, in fact, had nothing whatever to do with the capture of De Lagniel, is now surrounded by a little group of soldiers. He is talking to them about the prisoner, who, since it is known that he is an acquaintance of General Reynolds, has become a person of great importance in the camp. The Corporal speaks in the broadest Irish brogue, and is telling his hearers that he knew the fellow was a sesesh at once; that he leveled his musket at him and towld him to halt; that if he hadn't marched straight up to him he would have put a minnie ball through his heart; that he had his gun cocked and his finger on the trigger, and was a mind to shoot him anyway. Then he tells how he propounded this and that question, which confused the prisoner, and finally concludes by saying that De Lagniel might be d----d thankful indade that he escaped with his life.

The Corporal is the best-known man in the regiment. He prides himself greatly on the Middle Fork "skrimage." A day or two after that affair, and at a time when whisky was so scarce that it was worth its weight in gold, some officers called the Corporal up and asked him to give them an account of the "skrimage." Before he entered upon the subject, it was suggested that Captain Dubois, who had the little whisky there was in the party, should give him a taste to loosen his tongue. The Corporal, nothing loth, took the flask, and, raising it to his mouth, emptied it, to the utter dismay of the Captain and his friends. The dhrap had the effect desired. The Corporal described, with great particularity, his manner of going into action, dwelt with much emphasis on the hand-to-hand encounters, the thrusts, the parries, the final clubbing of the musket, and the utter discomfiture and mortal wounding of his antagonist. In fact by this time there were two of them; and finally, as the fight progressed, a dozen or more bounced down on him. It was lively! There was no time for the loading of guns. Whack, thump, crack! The head of one was broken, another lay dying of a bayonet thrust, and still another had perished under the sledge-hammer blow of his fist. The ground was covered now with the slain. He stood knee-deep in secesh blood; but a bugle sounded away off on the hills, and the d----d scoundrels who were able to get away ran off as fast as their legs could carry them. Had they stood up like men he would have destroyed the whole regiment; for, you see, he was just getting his hand in. "But, Corporal," inquired Captain Hunter, "what were the other soldiers of your company doing all this time?" "Bless your sowl, Captain, and do you think I had nothing to do but to watch the boys? Be jabers, it was a day when every man had to look after himself."

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 53-5

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, July 26, 1863

Our camp yesterday was enlivened by the joyful news that we had orders to take the cars for some unknown destination, and it is generally believed that Gregg's Brigade is to join Bragg's army, a petition having been sent up some time since with this request, if any are allowed to go; in it it was urged that most of this brigade were Tennesseeans, who had not seen their families since the day of their enlistment, in 1861. With a day's ration cooked, and another of crackers and bacon in haversacks, we were on the cars ready to start at 5 The entire night was consumed in going to Meridian, a distance of sixty-one miles. While waiting this morning, a train load of paroled Vicksburg prisoners, under the influence of whisky, made a charge upon a lot of sugar lying near the depot, and guarded by a detail of the Fourteenth Mississippi. In the melee a guard fired a blank cartridge at the crowd, when a lieutenant shot him in the head with a pistol, making a severe, but not dangerous, wound. The guards then left their posts, and the sugar was given up to pillage. Our brigade is now at Enterprise, from which place it can reach any needed point very quickly.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 281-2

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, September 30, 1861

(I shall not, in this book, feel obliged to give the proceedings.and doings of every day. Whilst in camp, sometimes for whole weeks, one day was so like the others that to state the occurrences of each would be but a repetition of words. As most of this fall and winter were spent in one place-Camp Griffin-I shall refer only occasionally to occurrences or events, without feeling the necessity of confining myself accurately to dates.)

During the past week I have been much shocked by the growing tendency to drunkenness amongst the officers of the army. I do not doubt but that if the soldiers could procure spirituous liquors, they would follow the example set them by their much loved officers.

I have been som[e]what amused for a few days by the antics of an officer of high rank, who has been shut up by sickness in his tent, and under my supervision. He entered the army about the time I did, and had for some time been a much esteemed member in good standing of the Good Templars. He had been from camp a few days—I think to Washington—and returned sick. He had been with me but a short time when his vivid imagination began to convert the stains on his tent into "all manner of artistic beauties— figures of beasts and men, and of women walking on the walls of his tent, feet upwards." Fie, fie! Colonel; if I did not know that you were a Good Templar and a married man, I should think such fancies were unbecoming. 'Tis a good thing to be a Templar and a married man, but still "All is not gold that glitters."

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 38