Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, February 10, 1863

February 10.

No day so thoroughly spring-like as this, yet I feel we are to miss the unlocking delight we realize in the New England transition from winter to summer. The bugs and birds and frogs seem to realize the change, but they know their own and are grateful for the smallest favors. I miss the melting snow at noon and the crunching crystals at night and morning. My eyes are not dazzled by the pure splendor as the days lengthen. The cawing crow flies back and forth, but he does not seem so earnest, so put to his trumps as those that fly above Wigwam Hill [at Worcester, Mass.] when Long Pond is all leaden, and weeks of sunshine and rain must come to free the ice-bound waters. The shores of our river here are covered with nourishing things, and the tides make high and low for the benefit of lazy lives, but I do not see the use of living on such easy terms.

Sometimes it seems to me like a funny experiment to try the merits of the body in this land of ease, and of the soul in a less genial clime. How long the experiment is to last the Lord only knows, but I am devotedly thankful that my place of nativity is among the cold mountains of Vermont. I do not believe it is possible for a New England type of man to originate in this level land. I shall as soon expect to find alligators in Charles River, or turkey buzzards among the Adirondacks. This reminds me that on my way through the pine woods yesterday, I ran one of these southern birds down. He had probably eaten so much that he could not fly. I easily captured him and brought him into camp for James to prepare for the rooms of the Natural History Society of Worcester. Can you imagine me galloping across the plains and through the woods with this South Carolinian specimen in my arms? I was thankful the long-legged horse did not have a fit of ugliness as he did the day before.

Before the countersign was given, to-night, the Captain [Rogers] and I went out to see a sick soldier at Battery plantation. It was much more convenient to enter the lines at the guard-house, when we returned, than to go to the ordinary entrance. We were challenged in the dark by, “Who come dar.” “A friend of the guard: call a corporal of the guard to let us in,” “Halt, halt,” at the same time cocking his musket. We, of course halted and asked if his gun was loaded. This raised his suspicion and his gun at the same time and he again demanded, “Who dar?” I said, “The surgeon and Capt. Rogers.” “I don' know any Sur John:” and I began to think he might fire upon us before the corporal came, so I told him the doctor and the captain. This lessened his apprehensions. I believe it would surely be fatal for any one to attempt to get by the guard here at night. To our soldiers, this war is not play, they intend to obey orders.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 359-60

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Birchard A. Hayes, October 2, 1863

Camp White, West Virginia, October 2, 1863.

My Dear Son: — I received a letter today from Uncle Birchard. He says you appear to be very happy learning to chop and work, and that you are helping Allen. Your mother tells me, too, that you have learned the names of a good many trees, and that you know them when you see them. I am very glad to hear so much good of you. It is an excellent thing to know how to work — to ride and drive and how to feed and hitch up a team. I expect you will know more about trees than I do. I did not learn about them when I was a little boy and so do not now know much about such things. There are a great many things that are learned very easily when we are young, but which it is hard to learn after we are grown. I want you to learn as many of such things now as you can, and when you are a man you will be able to enjoy and use your knowledge in many ways.

Your mother took a ride on Lieutenant McKinley's horse this morning, and enjoyed herself very much.

Uncle Joe has a big owl, such a one as Lucy saw at Uncle Birchard's. A corporal in Company E shot its wing off, so it couldn't escape. It snaps its beak very fiercely when we poke sticks at it. The band boys have a 'possum and there is a pet bear and deer.

I think Uncle Birchard will find a way to stop his chimney from smoking. If he doesn't, you must tell him to build campfires in front of his house as we do here. We find them very pleasant.

I am sure you will be a good boy and I hope you will be very happy.

Your affectionate father,

R. B. Hayes.

Birchard A. Hayes,

Fremont, Ohio.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 438

Captain Charles Wright Wills: September 28, 1863

September 28, 1863.

By the exercise of a little strategy, this morning I caught a chameleon who had ventured out of a hollow tree to gobble some flies for his breakfast. I enveloped him or rather lassoed him with a pocket handkerchief and then slipped him into a bottle. He only showed two of his colors, changing from a very pretty snuff color to a beautiful light green.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 192

Diary of William Howard Russell: June 24, 1861

Just at dawn, I woke up and got out on the platform of the carriage, which is the favorite resort of smokers and their antithetics, those who love pure fresh air, notwithstanding the printed caution, “It is dangerous to stand on the platform;” and under the eye of early morn saw spread around a flat sealike expanse, not yet warmed into color and life by the sun. The line was no longer guarded from daring Secessionists by soldiers' outposts, and small camps had disappeared. The train sped through the centre of the great verdant circle as a ship through the sea, leaving the rigid iron wake behind it tapering to a point at the horizon and as the light spread over it, the surface of the crisping corn waved in broad undulations beneath the breeze from east to west. This is the prairie indeed. Hereabouts it is covered with the finest crops, some already cut and stacked. Looking around one could see church spires rising in the distance from the white patches of houses, and by degrees the tracks across the fertile waste became apparent, and then carts and horses were seen toiling through the rich soil.

A large species of partridge or grouse appeared very abundant, and rose in flocks from the long grass at the side of the rail or from the rich carpet of flowers on the margin of the corn-fields. They sat on the fence almost unmoved by the rushing engine, and literally swarmed along the line. These are called “prairie chickens” by the people, and afford excellent sport. Another bird about the size of a thrush, with a yellow breast and a harsh cry, I learned was “the sky-lark;” and apropos of the unmusical creature, I was very briskly attacked by a young lady patriot for finding fault with the sharp noise it made. “Oh, my! And you not to know that your Shelley loved it above all things! Didn't he write some verses — quite beautiful, too, they are — to the sky-lark?” And so “the Britisher was dried up,” as I read in a paper afterwards of a similar occurrence.

At the little stations which occur at every few miles — there are some forty of them, at each of which the train stops, in 365 miles between Cairo and Chicago — the Union flag floated in the air; but we had left all the circumstance of this inglorious war behind us, and the train rattled boldly over the bridges across the rare streams, no longer in danger from Secession hatchets. The swamp had given place to the cornfield. No black faces were turned up from the mowing and free white labor was at work, and the type of the laborers was German and Irish.

The Yorkshirenian expatiated on the fertility of the land, and on the advantages it held out to the emigrant. But I observed all the lots by the side of the rail, and apparently as far as the eye could reach, were occupied. “Some of the very best land lies beyond on each side,” said he. “Out over there in the fat places is where we put our Englishmen.” By digging deep enough good water is always to be had, and coal can be carried from the rail, where it costs only 7s. or 8s. a ton. Wood there is little or none in the prairies, and it was rarely indeed a clump of trees could be, detected, or anything higher than some scrub brushwood. Those little communities which we passed were but the growth of a few years, and as we approached the northern portion of the line we could see, as it were, the village swelling into the town, and the town spreading out to the dimensions of the city. “I dare say, Major,” says one of the passengers, “this gentleman never saw anything like these cities before. I'm told they've nothing like them in Europe?” “Bless you,” rejoined the Major, with a wink, “just leaving out London, Edinbro', Paris, and Manchester, there's nothing on earth to ekal them.” My friend, who is a shrewd fellow, by way of explanation of his military title, says, “I was a major once, a major in the Queen's Bays, but they would put troop-sergeant before it them days.” Like many Englishmen he complains that the jealousy of native-born Americans effectually bars the way to political position of any naturalized citizen, and all the places are kept by the natives.

The scene now began to change gradually as we approached Chicago, the prairie subsided into swampy land, and thick belts of trees fringed the horizon; on our right glimpses of the sea could be caught through openings in the wood — the inland sea on which stands the Queen of the Lakes. Michigan looks broad and blue as the Mediterranean. Large farmhouses stud the country, and houses which must be the retreat of merchants and citizens of means; and when the train, leaving the land altogether, dashes out on a pier and causeway built along the borders of the lake, we see lines of noble houses, a fine boulevard, a forest of masts, huge isolated piles of masonry, the famed grain elevators by which so many have been hoisted to fortune, churches and public edifices, and the apparatus of a great city; and just at nine o'clock the train gives its last steam shout and comes to a standstill in the spacious station of the Central Illinois Company, and in half-anhour more I am in comfortable quarters at the Richmond House, where I find letters waiting for me, by which it appears that the necessity for my being in Washington in all haste, no longer exists. The wary General who commands the army is aware that the advance to Richmond, for which so many journals are clamoring, would be attended with serious risk at present, and the politicians must be content to wait a little longer.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, Vol. 1, p. 351-3

1st Lieutenant Charles Wright Wills: May 30, 1862

May 30, 1862.

We have our horses saddled all the time since 2:30 yesterday morning. Owing to Colonel Kellogg's continued illness he was this morning retired from further command of brigade, and Mizner put in his place. We could hear the cars running at Corinth all last night, and now there is a heavy black smoke hanging over the place. Some think they have evacuated, but 'tis doubtful. Firing all the time since 3 this morning. Up to this time we (our regiment) have had but three men killed and nine wounded here. Have been remarkably fortunate. I gave up my cot to Major Rawalt and am sleeping on the ground now, and the confounded lizards are working me into a fever. They are as thick as you ever saw grasshoppers. One of them ran into Allan Heald's shirt bosom yesterday and they say he moved rather sprightly for a few minutes. Lots of snakes here, cottonmouths, copperheads, rattlesnakes, and commoner varmint. There's also a scorpion that looks like a lizard with a green head. They say it is poisonous.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 95-6