Diary of William Howard Russell: June 7, 1861

The Confederate issue of ten millions sterling, in bonds payable in twenty years is not sufficient to meet the demands of Government; and the four millions of small Treasury notes, without interest, issued by Congress, are being rapidly absorbed. Whilst the Richmond papers demand an immediate movement on Washington, the journals of New York are clamoring for an advance upon Richmond. The planters are called upon to accept the Confederate bonds in payment of the cotton to be contributed by the States.

Extraordinary delusions prevail on both sides. The North believe that battalions of scalping Indian savages are actually stationed at Harper's Ferry. One of the most important movements has been made by Major-General McClellan, who has marched a force into Western Virginia from Cincinnati, has occupied a portion of the line of the Baltimore and Ohio railway, which was threatened with destruction by the Secessionists; and has already advanced as far as Grafton. Gen. McDowell has been appointed to the command of the Federal forces in Virginia. Every day regiments are pouring down from the North to Washington. General Butler, who is in command at Fortress Monroe, has determined to employ negro fugitives, whom he has called “Contrabands,” in the works about the fort, feeding them, and charging the cost of their keep against the worth of their services; and Mr. Cameron, the Secretary of War, has ordered him to refrain from surrendering such slaves to their masters, whilst he is to permit no interference by his soldiers with the relations of persons held to service under the laws of the States in which they are in.

Mr. Jefferson Davis has arrived at Richmond. At sea the Federal steamers have captured a number of Southern vessels; and some small retaliations have been made by the Confederate privateers. The largest mass of the Confederate troops have assembled at a place called Manassas Junction, on the railway from Western Virginia to Alexandria.

The Northern papers are filled with an account of a battle at Philippi, and a great victory, in which no less than two of their men were wounded and two were reported missing as the whole casualties; but Napoleon scarcely expended so much ink over Austerlitz as is absorbed on this glory in the sensation headings of the New York papers.

After breakfast I accompanied a party of Mr. Burnside's friends to visit the plantations of Governor Manning, close at hand. One plantation is as like another as two peas. We had the same paths through tasselling corn, high above our heads, or through wastes of rising sugar-cane; but the slave quarters on Governor Manning's were larger, better built, and more comfortable-looking than any I have seen.

Mr. Bateman, the overseer, a dour strong man, with spectacles on nose, and a quid in his cheek, led us over the ground. As he saw my eye resting on a large knife in a leather case stuck in his belt, he thought it necessary to say, “I keep this to cut my way through the cane-brakes about; they are so plaguey thick.”

All the surface water upon the estate is carried into a large open drain, with a reservoir in which the fans of a large wheel, driven by steam-power, are worked so as to throw the water over to a cut below the level of the plantation, which carries it into a bayou connected with the lower Mississippi.

In this drain one of my companions saw a prodigious frog, about the size of a tortoise, on which he pounced with alacrity; and on carrying his prize to land he was much congratulated by his friend. “What on earth will you do with the horrid reptile?” “Do with it! why, eat it to be sure.” And it is actually true, that on our return the monster “crapaud” was handed over to the old cook, and presently appeared on the breakfast-table, looking very like an uncommonly fine spatch-cock, and was partaken of with enthusiasm by all the company.

From the draining-wheel we proceeded to visit the forest, where negroes were engaged in clearing the trees, turning up the soil between the stumps, which marked where the mighty sycamore, live oak, gum-trees, and pines had lately shaded the rich earth. In some places the Indian corn was already waving its head and tassels above the black gnarled roots ; in other spots the trees, girdled by the axe, but not yet down, rose up from thick crops of maize; and still deeper in the wood negroes were guiding the ploughs, dragged with pain and difficulty by mules, three abreast, through the tangled roots and rigid earth, which will next year be fit for sowing. There were one hundred and twenty negroes at work; and these, with an adequate number of mules, will clear four hundred and fifty acres of land this year. “But it's death on niggers and mules,” said Mr. Bateman. “We generally do it with Irish, as well as the hedging and ditching; but we can't get them now, as they are all off to the wars.”

Although the profits of sugar are large, the cost of erecting the machinery, the consumption of wood in the boiler, and the scientific apparatus, demand a far larger capital than is required by the cotton planter, who, when he has got land, may procure negroes on credit, and only requires food and clothing till he can realize the proceeds of their labor, and make a certain fortune. Cotton will keep where sugar spoils. The prices are far more variable in the latter, although it has a protective tariff of twenty per cent.

The whole of the half million of hogsheads of the sugar grown in the South is consumed in the United States, whereas most of the cotton is sent abroad; but in the event of a blockade the South can use its sugar ad nauseam, whilst the cotton is all but useless in consequence of the want of manufacturers in the South.

When I got back, Mr. Burnside was seated in his veranda, gazing with anxiety, but not with apprehension, on the marching columns of black clouds, which were lighted up from time to time by heavy flashes, and shaken by rolls of thunder. Day after day the planters have been looking for rain, tapping glasses, scrutinizing aneroids, consulting negro weather prophets, and now and then their expectations were excited by clouds moving down the river, only to be disappointed by their departure into space, or, worse than all, their favoring more distant plantations with a shower that brought gold to many a coffer. “Did you ever see such luck? Kenner has got it again! That's the third shower Bringier has had in the last two days.”

But it was now the turn of all our friends to envy us a tremendous thunder-storm, with a heavy, even downfall of rain, which was sucked up by the thirsty earth almost as fast as it fell, and filled the lusty young corn with growing pains, imparting such vigor to the cane that we literally saw it sprouting up, and could mark the increase in height of the stems from hour to hour.

My good host is rather uneasy about his prospects this year, owing to the war; and no wonder. He reckoned on an income of £100,000 for his sugar alone; but if he cannot send it North it is impossible to estimate the diminution of his profits. I fancy, indeed, he more and more regrets that he embarked his capital in these great sugar-swamps, and that he would gladly now invest it at a loss in the old country, of which he is yet a subject; for he has never been naturalized in the United States. Nevertheless, he rejoices in the finest clarets, and in wines of fabulous price, which are tended by an old white-headed negro, who takes as much care of the fluid as if he was accustomed to drink it every day.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 280-3

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Colonel Eliakim P. Scammon, Monday, May 5, 1862

Camp Number 5, Princeton, May 5, 1862.

Sir: — This whole region is completely conquered. Rapid movement is all that is needed to take possession of the railroad and several good counties without opposition. Militiamen are coming in glad to take the oath and get home "to work crops." A part of Jenifer's force retreated through Tazewell, abandoning Jeffersonville and it is reported burning it. Humphrey Marshall is reported on the railroad and near or at Wytheville. The Forty-fifth retreated on to Giles abandoning the Narrows, leaving the position deserted. These are the reports. Not perfectly reliable, but I am inclined to credit them. At the Rocky Gap many muskets even were burned, the militiamen thinking it safer to return home unarmed. There is a report from Tazewell that a battalion of cavalry is approaching through Logan and McDowell, the other part of the Second Virginia. If so they will meet with no opposition worth naming. It is about certain that the enemy had but one cannon at the Narrows. All I give you is rumor, or the nature of rumor, except the conduct and disposition of the new militia. I hear that from their own lips. An active command can push to the railroad, taking coffee, salt, and sugar, and subsist itself long enough to get the railroad from Newbern a hundred miles west. I speak of the future in the way of suggestion that your thoughts may turn towards planning enterprises before the scare subsides. The rations I speak of because we ought to have a larger supply of some things, counting upon the country for the others. Colonel Little will send in reports perfectly reliable as to the Narrows tomorrow. I hear a report that the enemy — the Forty-fifth — didn't stop at Giles but kept on towards Newbern! I give these reports as showing the drift of feeling in this country, and [as] hints at truth rather than truth itself.

Monday night. — I now have reliable information of the enemy, I think. It differs in many respects from rumors mentioned in the foregoing. The Forty-fifth Regiment during Friday and Saturday straggled back to its camp at the mouth of Wolf Creek, a short distance above the Narrows. About four-fifths of the force got back foot-sore, without hats, coats, knapsacks, and arms in many cases. In the course of Friday and Saturday a considerable part (perhaps half) of the cavalry we drove from here reached the same point (mouth of Wolf Creek) having passed through Rocky Gap and thence taken the Wolf Creek and Tazewell Road easterly. On Saturday evening they were preparing to leave camp; the Forty-fifth to go to Richmond whither they had just been ordered, and the cavalry and the few militia were to go with them as far as Dublin. The militia were uncertain whether they were to remain at Dublin or go west to the Salt Works in Washington and Wythe Counties. They all expected to be gone from Wolf Creek and the Narrows during Sunday. There would be no fighting the Yankees this side of Dublin — possibly at Dublin a fight. The militia of Wythe, Grayson, and Carroll, seven hundred strong, are the force [at] Wytheville. At Abbington, one thousand [of] Floyd's men. In Russell County Humphrey Marshall is still reported with three thousand men badly armed and worse disciplined. The great Salt Works (King's) work four hundred [men], ten furnaces, and turn out seventeen hundred bushels every twenty-four hours. No armed force there. All this from contrabands and substantially correct.

Later. — Seven more contrabands just in. They report that on Sunday the Forty-fifth and other forces, except about thirty guards of baggage, left the vicinity of the Narrows arriving at Giles Court-house Sunday afternoon on their way to Dublin Depot; that from there they expected to go west to Abbington. The contrabands passed the Narrows; only a small guard was there with a few tents and wagons. No cannon were left there. I do not doubt the general truthfulness of the story. It confirms the former. The enclosed letters perhaps contain something that ought to be known to General Fremont; if so you can extract a fact or two to telegraph. They were got from the last mail sent here by the Rebels. The carrier stopped seven miles south of here and the mail [was] picked up there.

I wish to send three companies or so to the Narrows immediately to see if we can catch the guard and baggage left behind. If you approve send me word back immediately and I will start the expedition in the morning.

Latest. — Two more contrabands!! We can surely get the baggage in six hours (eighteen miles) without difficulty. Do send the order.

Respectfully,

R. B. Hayes,

Lieutenant-colonel 23D Regiment O. V. I.,

Commanding Detachment.

[colonel Scammon.]

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 251-3

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: Sunday, August 24, 1862

In the morning found my old contraband missing. Didn't think it worth while to look for it. Cleaned up and prepared for inspection. Archie and Reeve laid out a bed of state pistols, sabres and spurs. Wrote to Melissa and Ma and some more to Fannie. Read some in an old Independent. In the evening went out and heard Chaplain preach a good sermon. Romans, 6th chapter, 11th verse. Good remarks. Mrs. Miner was out to hear him. The Mrs. Majors are still here raising sensations. Seemed good to see them horseback riding.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 28

Major Wilder Dwight, April 24, 1862

Camp Between New Market And Sparta,

Thursday, April 24, 1862.

When I awoke on Easter morning in my dripping bivouac, and looked gloomily at my boots, which, with studied carelessness, I had so placed as to receive the stream from the flimsy shelter over me, and which were full of water, when, more than all, I poured the water out and put the boots on, I might have known, by intuitive conjecture, that our forces would the next day occupy Sparta. The storm did not abate until Tuesday, and it left us in hopeless mud and rain. Our advance is now in Harrisonburg, and Jackson's force has crossed the gap, and is on its way to Gordonsville. “The Valley” is cleared; and General Banks has been enjoying himself with a “general order” of congratulation, back-patting, and praise, worthy of little Jack Horner, and his thumb and his plum. Still, one fact is stubborn. Our column has penetrated Virginia one hundred miles, and is very near to important Rebel lines of communication, and has achieved important results with reasonable promptness and without disaster.

We hear to-day that the freshets of the Potomac and Shenandoah have combined to carry away the railroad bridge over the Potomac at Harper's Ferry. This will interfere with our supplies, and, I think, hasten our course over the Blue Ridge towards Gordonsville.

I have enjoyed for the past two days the slight alleviation of weather. Tuesday afternoon the Colonel and I rode through the gap opposite New Market, over the Massannattan Mountain, into the other valley which is bounded by the Blue Ridge. The road is a graded, gradual ascent, winding in and out. At its summit is one of the signal-stations, whence the view into both valleys is very fine, and, under the changing, clouded, and showery light, the scene had a great charm, heightened by the camps which were scattered over the green fields of the valley. We descended into the other valley to visit the Third Wisconsin, a regiment of Colonel Gordon's brigade, which is stationed there to protect two bridges over the South Fork of the Shenandoah and another stream.

Yesterday was a bright, breezy, sunshiny day, tempting one strongly to out-door life, — otherwise I should have written you a word on my birthday. Colonel Gordon and I drove down to Rood's Hill to examine the position which Jackson occupied there. We found it of great natural strength, with a river on either flank, and a broad, flat bottom, over which our approach would have been made.

We saw one scene in the course of our ride which illustrates the vile tyranny, oppression, and outrage which has been practised by the Rebels here. A neatly-dressed woman, with five little children, — one in her arms, — was crossing the field. We stopped and spoke to her. “Indeed it is,” said she, “hard times for poor folks. Jackson took my husband off with him. They gave him his choice to go or death. I expect him back, though, now that you've got here. He promised to run away the first chance.” Comment on such a “volunteer’ system is unnecessary. I told you that we were living near the house of Mr. Williamson, and took our meals there. I am now writing in the parlor, which is brigade head-quarters. The husband and father of the family is off with the army, but his uncle, the owner of the farm, an old man of eighty years, is here. He is an intelligent man. He heard John Randolph's maiden speech in Congress at Philadelphia. He sat in Richmond in the Convention to amend Virginia's constitution with Madison and Monroe. His farm here contains sixteen hundred acres, and as he sees his rail-fences disappearing before our camps he recalls how it looked in New Jersey years after Washington's army had wintered there; not a fence for miles. This helps his philosophy a little, but he is a bitter Secessionist, though his hope flickers under the blast of Northern invasion. One of the most amusing things connected with our movement into this country is the constant and odd exhibition of its effect on the negro. Day before yesterday our pickets brought in six contrabands. They had fled from above Harrisonburg, to avoid being drawn off with Jackson's army. One of them was almost white; another was of quite mature years, and very much disposed to philosophize and consider and pause over this emancipation question, and act “for the best.” I must try to give you a snatch from the dialogue between Colonel Gordon and the negroes; but I must leave out the brogue and laugh and aspect of the men which made up the incomparable effect. After asking them where they came from, &c., the Colonel, “Well, why didn't you go off with your master?” Ans. I didn't want to go South. Q. The South are your friends, ain't they? A. No, dey isn't no friends to colored people. Q. Well, what made you think we should be? Didn't your master tell you we wanted to steal you and sell you to Cuba? A. Yes, but we don't believe no such nonsense as dat. De Norf is our friends. I've heard all about de Norf, and I never see black men chained together and driven off to de Norf, but I have seen ’em, hundreds of ’em driven off Souf. I'd ruffer trust to de Norf, and I'd like to try it. Q. Well, but you can't work and take care of yourself, can you? Your master always took care of you, didn't he? A. Bress you, if de nigger don't work, who does? De white folks don't do no work. I've hired myself out for five years, made de bargain myself, and my master got de money. Yah! yah! yah! And they all laughed. Q. Well, you want to go Norf, do you? A. Yes. Then the philosopher, who was named George, reasoned a little more about it. At last the Colonel said: “Well, you are free; you can go where you please. You ain't slaves any longer, unless you choose to go back. Now, what are you going to do? Ain't you going to do something? ain't you going to turn somersets?” The negroes laughed and were exuberant. “Turn over, George, turn over,” said the darkies; and down the old fellow dumped, and went heels over head on the floor amid a general conviviality.

That's what I call the practical effect of invasion. Where the army goes, slavery topples and falls. For my part, I enjoy it hugely.

As I write this letter, two men are brought in. They are just out of Jackson's army. They live over on the Blue Ridge. A fortnight ago they were hunted into the woods by cavalry, shot at, and caught and put into the army. They say that the woods are full of men hiding in the same way, and that the cavalry are hunting them out. “The South is fighting for independence,” says Lord John Russell; “the North, for empire.” “No man's liberty of speech or person is interrupted,” says Jefferson Davis.

I believe I am fighting in God's cause against the most diabolical conspirators, rebels, and tyrants in the world.

The bright sun of yesterday dried the ground so much that we had battalion drill, and I had the pleasure of drilling the battalion. This morning, however, this treacherous climate again betrayed us, and it is snowing! for all day, I fear.

I rejoice to receive your letter of April 14, just brought in. It brings me news of Howard and William and home, in which I delight. I hope William's forebodings are not well founded, but McClellan must gather fruit soon or go to the wall. Still, silence to all clamor against him, and let us await the issue. I agree with Howard, that this military life gets wearisome.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 237-40

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: October 29, 1862

Company E on picket duty, false alarm at night, cattle in canefield. Krause's mounted infantry rode out and ascertained the cause of the alarm. Nothing of importance occurring after this, I have not thought it proper to keep a minute daily account, but I will state something of what was going on in the interim. Many negroes flocked in from the plantations bringing their manners and customs with them, which gave infinite amusement to both officers and men. And these they furnished in almost every variety so as to suit all classes. In one house some old gray-headed patriarch would hold forth in a religious discourse to a noisy and delighted audience. In another a prayer meeting would be in progress. Further along might be heard the banjo and fiddle, and the sable virgins of Africa could be seen “tripping the light fantastic toe.” This last as may well be imagined formed the principal attraction, and not infrequently these sable nymphs would be led off by a partner in uniform. The contrabands increased so rapidly that something must be done with them. Colonel Holcomb set about making a fort. This gave employment to several hundred. General Butler conceived the idea of farming some of the deserted plantations, so he employed agents to see to the work, and sent negroes and their families to gather the cane and make it into sugar, paying them wages and feeding them. This was a nice arrangement and opened the way for self support to thousands that otherwise would be an expense to the government. As for myself I found plenty to do, for Captain Solomon and my Second Lieutenant were on the sick list most of the time with chills and fever contracted at Camp Williams, and my First Lieutenant was on detached service with the mounted infantry. This placed me in command of the company most of the time, and with the duties of Orderly Sergeant and the books of the company to keep was quite sufficient for one to do. But my officers were very kind to me, and I had all the privileges of a commissioned officer. Besides this I had a nice comfortable house built for myself, Lieutenant Gardner and Captain Solomon, the Captain occupying one room and Lieutenant Gardner and myself the other. Thus things went on quite harmoniously. During this time General Butler was superceeded by General Banks in the Department of the Gulf.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 34-6

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: Sunday, October 26, 1862

The remainder of the brigade continued the march down the Bayov Lafourche, toward Brashear City. I took a stroll through the town. This had been a notorious place for Guerrillas and steamboats had been fired upon here several times. Admiral Farragut had warned them that if the practice was not discontinued he would burn the town. But they disregarded his warning: so sometime in July last three gunboats came up the river and laid two-thirds of the town in ashes. But the houses left standing might as well have been burned, for the soldiers Saturday and Sunday morning made wasteful havoc with the furniture and windows of those that were standing; and then too the piles of bones, heads and feet of chickens and turkeys lying upon marble top tables and scattered about in confusion told what fearful raids had been made in the poultry yards. Many contrabands came in and occupied the deserted houses. Information was received that one B. Molare was in command of a band of guerillas, and was in the habit of coming home to his plantation and staying all night. Colonel Holcomb ordered Company E under the command of Lieutenants Krause and Mayne to go down and arrest him. We started about 9 p. m. with the negroes who gave the information accompanying as guides. An hour's walk brought us to the house. The men were stationed so as to allow no one to escape, and the two lieutenants and myself went in. We found three ladies and a boy occupying the house. They were well dressed and the furniture indicated considerable wealth. One of the ladies, a buxom widow of about 25, seemed to be spokesman for all hands. Lieutenant Krause informed her of our errand, and asked her if Mr. Molare was at home. He was not, and in answer to questions she made the following statement: Mr.Molare was not her husband, but her cousin. Her husband was dead. Mr. Molare was not a captain, and was in command of no military organization. He lived there because his house was burned in Donaldsonville, but had not been there for two or three days. As to firearms she said there were none about the place except two small pistols, which she produced in a wooden case. She said they kept them for personal protection. She then said we might search the house and she would show us every place where firearms could be secreted. During the search some Confederate bank bills turned up, and she said, “I suppose you have no faith in them?” I replied that I had none in the least. We were not there to rob or plunder, but were there for persons and things contraband of war. Not finding any arms Lieutenant Krause sent for the overseer and told him he might consider himself a prisoner and must go with us. He then said to Mrs. C: “I have been informed by pretty good authority that Mr. Molare is at the head of a band of guerillas secreted somewhere about here in the woods, and is in the habit of firing on boats as they pass up and down the river. Now you may say to him if he does not come and deliver himself up as a prisoner of war we will come here and burn this place to the ground.” Then we left for camp. The next day Mr. Molare came and took the oath of allegiance to the United States. On Saturday when rations were issued to citizens, the widow and the rest of the family were regular customers.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 30-4

Laura M. Towne: Sunday, April 27, 1862

St. Helena's, Sunday, April 27,1862.

I have been hoping from day to day for a chance to give you a good long letter, but I never was so busy in my life, except just after we moved to Frog-Hollow, and it is in pretty much the same style — a struggle for the food of the day. To be sure, we fare very well, but that is one trouble; we have a large family and not an abstemious one, and I am housekeeper, with Southern servants, and those irregular, and only half under my control, being at every other body's beck and call. . . .  Miss W. it was who told me we were to pay no wages for the work we have done, and at first, supposing she knew, I tried to reconcile myself to it by specious reasoning. But Mr. Pierce says we have no right at all to take their labor and leave Government to pay, or to pay our servants here out of the goods sent by the commissioners. He will pay the cook and driver. I have hired a washerwoman and chambermaid for half a dollar a week extra. That is, she gets food from Government, as all do (the corn, that is, that was left on the estate), and she has her house as before, but for attending to my room and doing my washing I pay her half a dollar a week. Little enough, but I dare not give more, as it would make the field hands and others discontented. . . . I am quite charmed with Miss Winsor. She is doing a good work quietly and efficiently. I envy her her school, but some one must keep house. . . . I have a good deal of satisfaction too, in housekeeping, for comfort is coming out of chaos; so I did not come here for nothing. I can do, too, what I always wanted to come for specially, and that was to strengthen the anti-slavery element. . . .

The blessed soldiers, with all their wrongdoing, did this one good thing — they assured the negroes that they were free and must never again let their masters claim them, nor any masters. I think it is very touching to hear them begging Mr. Pierce to let them cultivate corn instead of cotton, of which they do not see the use, since they worked it last year for pay which has not come yet, while their corn has saved them from starvation. Next week they are to be paid a dollar an acre for the cotton they have planted under Mr. Pierce. They do not understand being paid on account, and they think one dollar an acre for ploughing, listing, or furrowing and planting is very little, which of course it is. Mr. P. wants to make it their interest to tend the cotton after it is planted, and so he pays on it just as little as he can, until it is all ready for the market. Meanwhile, if the masters drive us off, no return will ever be made for their work, to the people who are planting for us. Nothing is paid for the cultivation of the corn, and yet it will be Government property. The negroes are so willing to work on that, that Mr. P. has made it a rule that till a certain quantity of cotton is planted they shall not hoe the corn. This they take as a great hardship, for the corn wants hoeing. Several boxes of clothing have lately come here for distribution, and from early morning till evening the negroes are flocking here to buy. I do not like the prices fixed on the goods at all. They are in some cases higher a good deal than the retail Philadelphia prices. Be sure if Mrs. Hastings sends her box to me to mark it”Private” and then I can dispose of it as I please. . . . Miss Winsor insists that her children shall be decently clad, or she will not teach them. After the buyers have been to the cotton-house where the goods are stored, they often come and ask for me at the mansion house, so as to get a needle and a little skein of thread — great treasures in this region. They will give two or three eggs — which the soldiers buy at two cents apiece here — for a needle and a little wisp of tangled cotton. When that box from our sewing-circle comes along, I want you to put into it for me especially, at my cost, of course, a lot of coarse needles, some black and white linen thread, some coarse spool cotton of various colors, and some large size porcelain buttons. . . . One luxury I want you to send me. It is about five pounds of pulverized sugar. We have had some of Mr. Pierce's and it has gone, to his great regret, in this blackberry season. The fields are black with them, and we have them three times a day, a needle and thread paying for a quart or two. I bought yesterday a little plague for a quarter of a dollar. It was a young mocking-bird which I had to get to keep a negro boy from undertaking to “bring it up.”

Evening

I have begun my professional career. On the next plantation to this a good many negroes are sick, and at church this morning the young man in charge, a Mr. Buggles, asked me for some medicine for them — so he came for me, and this afternoon I doctored the half-dozen families who had measles and mumps. The church was in the midst of splendid live-oak trees hanging with moss, and the services were impressive only because they were so unusual, especially the singing. The garments seen to-day were beyond all description. One man had a carpet, made like a poncho, and he stalked about in such grandeur. There was an old woman there who came from Africa in a steamship. Her face was tattooed a little. Mr. Horton, who was one of our fellow passengers on the Oriental, a Baptist minister, preached a sermon upon true freedom, and I think the negroes liked it. We heard of one old negro who got up in meeting, when one of the young superintendents was leading the services, and said, “The Yankees preach nothing but cotton, cotton.” The fact is that every man has thought it his duty to inculcate the necessity of continuing to work, and the negro can see plainly enough that the proceeds of the cotton will never get into black pockets — judging from past experience.

To-night I have been to a “shout,” which seems to me certainly the remains of some old idol worship. The negroes sing a kind of chorus, — three standing apart to lead and clap, — and then all the others go shuffling round in a circle following one another with not much regularity, turning round occasionally and bending the knees, and stamping so that the whole floor swings. I never saw anything so savage. They call it a religious ceremony, but it seems more like a regular frolic to me, and instead of attending the shout, the better persons go to the “Praise House.” This is always the cabin of the oldest person in the little village of negro houses, and they meet there to read and pray; generally one of the ladies goes there to read to them and they pray. I went to-night and saw Miss Nelly Winsor sitting ready to read to them; but as she seemed embarrassed I did not stay. I shall go again next week. They meet at the house of old Aunt Phillis, a real character. But I have no time to tell you of her to-night.

I wish I could sketch. This country would make S. wild with delight, the trees are so picturesque. I think the palmetto as ugly a tree as ever was planned. I have seen no strange animals except white cranes or herons and turkey buzzards. There is the skin of an alligator lying in the yard. It was shot in the creek here, but was not more than five or six feet long. The flowers are not very beautiful, that is, the wild ones, but I never in my life saw such garden roses.

We have been riding around all week to different plantations to cheer up and reassure the rather downhearted negroes, or rather the negro women. It is not a cheering thing to do, except as it is gratifying to be so able to give comfort. They think a white lady a great safeguard from danger, and they say they are “confused” if there are no ladies about.

Rupert Sargent Holland, Editor, Letters and Diary of Laura M. Towne: Written from the Sea Islands of South Carolina 1862-1864, p. 17-21

Major Wilder Dwight: March 9, 1862

Camp Near Charlestown, Virginia, March 9, 1862.

After finishing my letter to you yesterday, as I came out of the Provost Marshal's office, I saw a sight that I would gladly photograph for you. A large wagon full of negro men, women, and children, overrunning like the old woman's shoe. It had come in from the farm, near town, of some disloyal Rebel. There stood the load of helpless and deserted contrabands; an embarrassment and a question typifying the status of the slave everywhere, as the army marches on.

“You see that wagon,” said my friend and quondam enemy, the secession postmaster. “Well, that is an answer to all your talk of protection and good government.” “No,” said I; “under the government, and with the peace you then enjoyed, there were no such wagons. You had better hasten back under the government, or all your negroes will be in wagons or on foot, whither they choose. War is a rough master, but it has no rules or processes for the enforcement of the slave code.”

The question meets you at every turn. At the tavern where we stopped for a few days after coming to town were two slaves, — an Aunt Chloe, whose bread and pastry and cake realized Mrs. Stowe's fiction; her son George, eighteen years old, who waited on table, and whose free father is a carpenter in Charlestown. Day before yesterday, on going to town, I found “aunty” in great affliction. Her only boy, George, had “run away.” When General Hamilton went on to Smithfield, George went too.

He wanted to be free, instead of following longer the apron-string and status of his mother. Either his free father or our servants or the change of air had “poisoned” his mind, as our host, his “owner,” phrased it. I might add case after case. The leaven is working; there is no stopping it.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 205-6

Major Wilder Dwight: Saturday, March 8, 1862

Charlestown, Virginia, March 8, 1862, Saturday.

We are quite at home in Charlestown now. We went into camp on Wednesday. On Thursday I was detailed as brigade officer of the day.

That kept me in the saddle all day and until night. And now I have a story of a midnight march for you. It is midnight of Thursday night. It may have begun to be Friday morning. I am sleeping in my tent; my nose alone apprising me that it is bitter cold. The rattle of an orderly is heard galloping into the camp. Soon, again, my reviving wakefulness hears the voice of Major Perkins, General Banks's Chief of Staff, talking to the Colonel in the next tent.

At last I am called. “Get the regiment under arms at once, Major,” is the order, “and move down on the Berryville Pike.” Colonel Maulsby, who is at Kabletown, near the Shenandoah, with part of his regiment, is reported to have been attacked by Rebel cavalry, and “cut to pieces.” A force of cavalry, artillery, and two regiments of infantry, under Colonel Gordon, is to move at once, cautiously, to his relief. It is dark, and so cold. A discussion of the best route ensues. The regiment is turned out. I mount my horse and ride down to take command. In the darkness, it is difficult to see whether the regiment is facing one way or another. We move down upon the road. The Sixteenth Indiana follows us.

After proceeding a mile upon the pike, we turn off upon the “Dirt Road,” so called, toward Kabletown. Over rocks, through ruts and mire, half frozen, we make a slight headway. The artillery cannot proceed. It is too dark for even safe progress by infantry. “Halt! Build fires, and bivouac till daylight.” In fifteen minutes, from our position at the head of the line to the rear of it is a succession of bright fires, with groups of men gathered round them. Down the hill, and along the winding road is one blaze of camp-fires. The sight is a fine one. At last the morning star rises, like a flame, and the day follows her. We move again, with flankers and advance guard. As we had been sitting about the fire, waiting for day, a teamster of Colonel Maulsby's regiment, who was our guide, had told his story, how the cavalry charged upon them, cut them down, and “now,” said he, “Colonel Maulsby and all his officers are either dead or on their way to Richmond.”

As we drew near to Kabletown we saw pickets and outposts. A company of our regiment, deployed as skirmishers, went down on the field toward them. They withdrew; but suddenly it appears that they are part of Colonel Maulsby's Home Guard!

We advance again, when, at a turn in the road, the quiet camp of Colonel Maulsby appears in tranquil unconsciousness. The teamster opens his eyes in blank amazement. We halt. I go on and find Colonel Maulsby, delighted and surprised to see me.

Then come the explanations. A patrol of our cavalry lost its way, last night, came rapidly in on the camp by the wrong road. Maulsby's men fired, and so did the cavalry. The teamsters and a few of the outposts were panic-stricken, and their terror drew a picture which had little resemblance to the reality.

In the unlucky blunder, a horse and man were shot. The fugitive teamsters and outposts had led us a pretty chase. The joke and collapse were ridiculous. “Come in to breakfast,” said Colonel Maulsby. Ha! ha! ha! We are the heroes of Kabletown! On our return, I told General Banks that Kabletown should be inscribed on our banners!

We had a night march, and at ten o'clock in the morning we got back to our camp, after fourteen miles of marching over the worst road in the world. Well! what of it? There is no harm done, and perhaps this wretched cavalry has learnt a lesson.

I am writing in the Provost Marshal's office in the Charlestown jail. Colonel Andrews is still Provost Marshal. John Brown's cell, on the opposite side of the entry, is full of contrabands, fugitives within our lines, most of them to be sent to work at Harper's Ferry. Again I give you an odd retribution from the whirligig of events.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 203-5

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: Tuesday Night, April 18, 1865

I try to dwell as little as possible on public events. I only feel that we have no country, no government, no future. I cannot, like some others, look with hope on Johnston's army. He will do what he can; but ah, what can he do? Our anxiety now is that our President and other public men may get off in safety. O God! have mercy upon them and help them! For ourselves, like the rest of the refugees, we are striving to get from the city. The stereotyped question when we meet is, “When and where are you going?” Our country relatives have been very kind. My brother offers us an asylum in his devastated home at W. While there we must look around for some other place, in which to build up a home for our declining years. Property we have none — all gone. Thank God, we have our faculties; the girls and myself, at least, have health. Mr. —— bears up under our difficulties with the same hopeful spirit which he has ever manifested. “The Lord will provide,” is still his answer to any doubt on our part. The Northern officials offer free tickets to persons returning to their homes — alas! to their homes! How few of us have homes! Some are confiscated; others destroyed. The families of the army and navy officers are here. The husbands and sons are absent, and they remain with nothing to anticipate and nothing to enjoy. To-day I met a friend, the wife of a high official, whose hospitality I have often enjoyed in one of the most elegant residences in Virginia, which has been confiscated and used as a hospital for “contrabands.” Our conversation naturally turned on our prospects. Hearing where we were going, she replied, “I have no brother, but when I hear from my husband and son, I shall accept the whole-souled invitation of a relative in the country, who has invited me to make his house my home; but,” she added, as her beautiful eyes filled with tears, “when are our visits to end? We can't live with our ruined relatives, and when our visits are over, what then? And how long must our visits of charity last? The question was too sad; neither of us could command our voices, and we parted in silence and tears.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 357-8

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Monday, March 13, 1865

The Seventeenth Corps crossed the river this morning and marched out about a mile, where we halted till late in the afternoon, when we moved forward three miles and went into bivouac for the night. Three more boats came up from Wilmington today. They are to be loaded with the refugees and contrabands gathered up by Sherman's army.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 261

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: March 15, 1865

Lawrence says Miss Chesnut is very proud of the presence of mind and cool self-possession she showed in the face of the enemy. She lost, after all, only two bottles of champagne, two of her brother's gold-headed canes, and her brother's horses, including Claudia, the brood mare, that he valued beyond price, and her own carriage, and a fly-brush boy called Battis, whose occupation in life was to stand behind the table with his peacock feathers and brush the flies away. He was the sole member of his dusky race at Mulberry who deserted “Ole Marster” to follow the Yankees.

Now for our losses at the Hermitage. Added to the gold-headed canes, and Claudia, we lost every mule and horse, and President Davis's beautiful Arabian was captured. John's were there, too. My light dragoon, Johnny, and heavy swell, is stripped light enough for the fight now. Jonathan, whom we trusted, betrayed us; and the plantation and mills, Mulberry house, etc., were saved by Claiborne, that black rascal, who was suspected by all the world. Claiborne boldly affirmed that Mr. Chesnut would not be hurt by destroying his place; the invaders would hurt only the negroes. “Mars Jeems," said he, "hardly ever come here and he takes only a little sompen nur to eat when he do come.'”

Fever continuing, I sent for St. Julien Ravenel. We had a wrangle over the slavery question. Then, he fell foul of everybody who had not conducted this war according to his ideas. Ellen had something nice to offer him (thanks to the ever-bountiful Childs!), but he was too angry, too anxious, too miserable to eat. He pitched into Ellen after he had disposed of me. Ellen stood glaring at him from the fireplace, her blue eye nearly white, her other eye blazing as a comet. Last Sunday, he gave her some Dover's powders for me; directions were written on the paper in which the medicine was wrapped, and he told her to show these to me, then to put what I should give her into a wine-glass and let me drink it. Ellen put it all into the wine-glass and let me drink it at one dose. “It was enough to last you your lifetime,” he said. “It was murder.” Turning to Ellen: “What did you do with the directions?” "I nuwer see no d'rections. You nuwer gimme none.” “I told you to show that paper to your mistress.” “Well, I flung dat ole brown paper in de fire. What you makin' all dis fuss for? Soon as I give Missis de physic, the stop frettin' an' flingin' 'bout, she go to sleep sweet as a suckling baby, an' she slep two days an' nights, an' now she heap better.” And Ellen withdrew from the controversy.

“Well, all is well that ends well, Mrs. Chesnut. You took opium enough to kill several persons. You were worried out and needed rest. You came near getting it — thoroughly. You were in no danger from your disease. But your doctor and your nurse combined were deadly.” Maybe I was saved by the adulteration, the feebleness, of Confederate medicine.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 364-6

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, February 8, 1863

February 8, 1863.

What do you think of the First Massachusetts Black Infantry? I suppose there is no doubt but that the regiment will be raised; one of our captains^†  has had the offer of the colonelcy, and he has accepted it. As a military measure, I entirely believe in it, and I hope it will be entirely successful. It is ridiculous for persons to try and laugh this thing down; there is no reason in the world why black troops raised in this country shouldn't be as good as those used by the English and French. I always argue that any men who have understanding enough to obey orders implicitly, where they are led by brave officers, can make good soldiers. I think negroes could be more easily disciplined than most white men. The understanding, of course, is that all the commissioned officers shall be white. If I had anything to do with such a regiment, I should not want to raise much of it in the North, but get enough men there to form a skeleton, and then go South and fill up with contrabands.

You will probably hear before long who the Captain is, that I have referred to; he doesn't want it mentioned at present.

No one pretends to have an idea about our next campaign here in Virginia. I hope and trust that we shall all find ourselves with our right on the James River by the middle of next month, and that the Ninth Corps led off in that direction to-day, but these are only my hopes; I have nothing to ground them on.

_______________

^† Captain Robert G. Shaw.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 119-20

Edward William Hooper, November 11, 1863

Beaufort, S. C, November 11th, 1863.

The cotton crop has done very fairly this year. The entire crop, from the private as well as Government plantations, will be about double that of last year, or even more than double. The government will have this year about one hundred thousand pounds of ginned cotton. The first frost came last night, and that will cut off a good deal of cotton that would have ripened in the next fortnight if there had been no frost. The money paid out to the people for their labor on this cotton is very considerable, and makes the industrious ones very well to do.

E. W. Hooper.

SOURCE: New-England Educational Commission for Freedmen, Extracts from Letters of Teachers and Superintendents of the New-England Educational Commission for Freedmen, Fourth Series, January 1, 1864, p. 7

Edward S. Philbrick: February 19, 1862

Boston, February 19, 1862.

Dear –––: I think you will not be greatly astonished when I tell you that I am off for Port Royal next week. I go under the auspices of the Educational Commission to make myself generally useful in whatever way I can, in reducing some amount of order and industry from the mass of eight or ten thousand contrabands now within our lines there. Boston is wide awake on the subject, and I am determined to see if something can't be done to prove that the blacks will work for other motives than the lash.

The Treasury Department offer subsistence, protection, transportation, and the War Department offer their hearty cooperation to the work undertaken here by private citizens, but can't take any more active part at present for reasons obvious. They ridicule the idea , that these blacks can ever again be claimed by their runaway masters, which is a satisfactory foundation for our exertions in overseeing their labor and general deportment.

You don't know what a satisfaction it is to feel at last that there is a chance for me to do something in this great work that is going on.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Ware Pearson, Editor, Letters from Port Royal Written at the Time of the Civil War, p. 1-2

G. Pilsbury: September 13, 1863

Hilton Head, S. C„ September 13th, 1863.

The people are raising a plenteous crop for their subsistence, with the exception of a few aged and otherwise helpless individuals. There is much matured corn, an abundance of sweet potatoes, considerable rice, and a general supply of various kinds of vegetables all over the islands. There is also a quite extensive crop of cotton, the first picking of which is now taking place. The peach, fig and other fruit harvests have gone by, but there is a profusion of oranges everywhere, some of them beginning to turn yellow. The supply seems to be unlimited. I have been surprised at the amount of subsistence raised upon the islands; and yet, with more diligence and increased husbandry, the amount may be vastly increased. I see no reason why the natural resources of the islands may not be made to support entirely, at least twice, and perhaps three times their present population. This, of course, would require a more thorough and general superintendence, than has yet been rendered. The people need to be instructed, encouraged, and in many cases compelled to labor.

The agent who comes here for pastime or the mere novelty of change, had better stay at home. The direction of labor is vastly important, but scarcely less so is the development of the social, mental and moral faculties of this long oppressed and neglected race. It seems to me there is at present a great lack of teachers, not merely of the alphabet, and more advanced education, but also of social and domestic duties.

G. PILSBURY.

SOURCE: New-England Educational Commission for Freedmen, Extracts from Letters of Teachers and Superintendents of the New-England Educational Commission for Freedmen, Fourth Series, January 1, 1864, p. 6-7

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Wednesday, January 15, 1862

A swashing rain is falling on top of the snow. What floods and what roads we shall have! No more movements in this quarter. Yesterday a party from Camp Hayes went out after forage to the home of a man named Shumate who had escaped from the guardhouse in Raleigh a few days ago. They stopped at his house. As one of the men were [was] leaving, he said he would take a chunk along to build a fire. Mrs. Shumate said, “You'll find it warm enough before you get away.” The party were fired on by about thirty bushwhackers; two horses badly wounded. Four men had narrow escapes, several balls through clothing.

Two more contrabands yesterday. These runaways are bright fellows. As a body they are superior to the average of the uneducated white population of this State. More intelligent, I feel confident. What a good-for-nothing people the mass of these western Virginians are! Unenterprising, lazy, narrow, listless, and ignorant. Careless of consequences to the country if their own lives and property are safe. Slavery leaves one class, the wealthy, with leisure for cultivation. They are usually intelligent, well-bred, brave, and high-spirited. The rest are serfs.

Rained all day; snow gone. I discharged three suspicious persons heretofore arrested; all took the oath. Two I thought too old to do mischief, Thurman and Max; one I thought possibly honest and gave him the benefit of the possibility. He was from Logan County. Knew Laban T. Moore and my old friend John Bromley. John, he says, is “suspect” of Secesh.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 187-8

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, May 14, 1862

Strasburg, May 14, 1862.

1 never expected to write another letter from this place during the war, but so it is. After ten days' marching and countermarching, crossing the mountains into the other valley and coming back again, we have got here again, after an absence of nearly two months, without having accomplished the first thing during the whole of that time. We line officers have drawn up a paper to be sent to the Secretary of War, begging to be transferred to another division; one copy to be forwarded to Charles Sumner, and another to Judge Thomas. A somewhat similar one is going to Governor Andrew asking his assistance. They are all ably written, and I hope they will help us out of this.

The other day, when we were over the other side of the mountains, one of Captain Abbott's men disappeared from his company. Last night he came into camp in secesh uniform. His story was that he was taken about fifty rods from our bivouac by two of Ashby's cavalry and two infantry: that they carried him about twenty miles to Jackson's main force, and then promised him they would send him to a place where he would never see Yankee-land again, but he balked them by escaping their guard one night and keeping in the woods until he got inside of Colonel Geary's lines.

I dare say you have noticed, in the paper, that our Adjutant's clerk was shot, the other day, as he was marching between Mount Jackson and Edinburgh. He was a long distance ahead of the regiment; there were three shots fired; one minié ball struck him, passing through his right arm into his body, grazing his lungs, coming out the other side: he is still living, but his recovery is doubtful. We have had three other men disappear lately, very likely shot in this same way. An orderly was fired on, the other day, but not hit; he chased the bushwhacker, wounded him and caught him.

I had one piece of good luck when we were over in the other valley. I was out with the company on picket; early in the morning, I discovered three contrabands with as many horses just outside our lines. I had them brought in before me; one of them had a beautiful brown mare which took my eye amazingly: I offered the darkey five dollars for her, and he took me up. I sent the other horses in to brigade headquarters by the contrabands.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 56-7

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Dr. Joseph T. Webb, January 4, 1862

Camp Union, January 4, 1862.

Dear Doctor: — You have probably learned that Dr. McCurdy has gone home to recruit his health. If Dr. Jim does not break down (I have some fears on that score) this absence of Dr. McCurdy need not hasten your departure. Our men are generally very healthy; the sick are daily returning, for the most part well. Captain Skiles and Captain Lovejoy are to recruit in Ohio. It is possible that I may not come, if Lucy gets on well, until you return. If we do not move the Twenty-third on to Raleigh, I would prefer to wait, if possible, until you get here.

If we go on to Raleigh where Major ——. At this point, I learned that the Twenty-sixth is ordered to Kentucky. If so, it will stop our going on to Raleigh; besides, it has just begun to rain, so I suppose we are fixed. If so, I shall be coming home in two or three weeks, I think. Possibly not. You need send me nothing except newspapers. The Commercial via Gallipolis by mail comes in good time.

We have some interesting contrabands coming in daily. Eleven came in yesterday. The rain seems to be a “settled” one. If so, all movements in this quarter are at an end. Sorry, but it can't be helped. . . .

Yours,

R.

Dr. J. T. Webb.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 178

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Friday, January 3, 1862

Last evening threatened snow but too cold. Today cold and dry. P. M. 4 o'clock began to rain; may rain for a month now.

Charles, an honest-looking contraband — six feet high, stout-built, thirty-six years old, wife sold South five years ago,— came in today from Union, Monroe County. He gives me such items as the following: Footing boots $9 to $10. New boots $18 to $20. Shoes $4 to $4.50. Sugar 25 to 30 [cents a pound], coffee 62½ , tea $1.50, soda 62½, pepper 75, bleached domestic 40 to 50 [cents a yard.] Alex Clark [his master], farmer near Union (east of it), Monroe County, one hundred and fifty (?) miles from Fayetteville — fifty miles beyond (?) Newbern. Started Saturday eve at 8 P. M., reached Raleigh next Monday night; crossed New River at Packs Ferry. (Packs a Union man.)

Companies broken up in Rebel army by furloughs, discharges, and sickness. Rich men's sons get discharges. Patrols put out to keep slaves at home. They tell slaves that the Yankees cut off arms of some negroes to make them worthless and sell the rest in Cuba for twenty-five hundred dollars each to pay cost of war. “No Northern gentlemen fight — only factory men thrown out of employ.” They (the negroes) will fight for the North if they find the Northerners are such as they think them.

Union is a larger and much finer town than Fayetteville. William Erskine, keeper of Salt Sulphur Springs, don't let Rebels stay in his houses. Suspected to be a Union man. Lewisburg three times as large as Fayetteville. Some Fayetteville people there. People in Greenbrier [County] don't want to fight any more.

General Augustus Chapman the leading military man in Monroe. Allen T. Capelton, the other mem[ber] of Legislature, Union man, had his property taken by them. Named Joshua Seward, farmer. Henry Woolwine, ditto, for Union, farmer, [living] near Union — three and three and one-half miles off. Dr. Ballard a good Union man (storekeeper) on the road from Giles to Union, twelve miles from Peterstown, also robbed by Floyd. Wm. Ballard and a large connection, all Union men — all in Monroe. Oliver Burns and Andrew Burns contributed largely to the Rebels. John Eckles in Union has a fine brick house — a Rebel colonel. Rebels from towards Lynchburg and Richmond would come by way of Covington, forty-five miles from Union. Landlords of principal hotel Rebels — one at Manassas. Two large, three-story high-school buildings, opposite sides of the street, on the hill this end of town. “Knobs,” or “Calder's Peak,” three miles from town. A hilly country, but more cleared and better houses than about Fayetteville.

They “press” poor folks' horses and teams not the rich folks'. Poor folks grumble at being compelled to act as patrols to keep rich men's negroes from running off. “When I came with my party, eleven of us, in sight of your pickets, I hardly knew what to do. If you were such people as they had told us, we would suffer. Some of the party turned to run. A man with a gun called out halt. I saw through the fence three more with guns. They asked, ‘Who comes there?’ I called out ‘Friends.’ The soldier had his gun raised; he dropped it and said: ‘Boys, these are some more of our colored friends,’ and told us to ‘come on, not to be afraid,’ that we were safe. Oh, I never felt so in my life. I could cry, I was so full of joy. And I found them and the major (Comly) and all I have seen so friendly — such perfect gentlemen, just as we hoped you were, but not as they told us you were.”

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 175-7