We arrived at Sauk
Center at 1 o'clock. I wrote to father. Butter, 10c. A poor fence of a fort.
SOURCE: Lewis C.
Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 5
We arrived at Sauk
Center at 1 o'clock. I wrote to father. Butter, 10c. A poor fence of a fort.
SOURCE: Lewis C.
Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 5
Osaco Lake. Cheese
25c. Came ̧ from Sauk Center to Alexandrian forest. Fuss about dinner. Attempt
to arrest one of the Third—failure. We joined cavalry—fuss about guard relief.
Two loads of wood.
SOURCE: Lewis C.
Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 5
I wrote to my
father, Amos C. Paxson, New Hope, Bucks county, Pennsylvania.
SOURCE: Lewis C.
Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 6
We are looking for
the Dutchess County regiment as if their coming was an assured fact, yet it is
only a rumor, and even that cannot be traced very far. Aside from our daily
drill, which is not much fun, we manage to get some amusement out of everything
that comes along. We visit each other and play all sorts of games. Fiddling and
dancing take the lead just now. The company streets, now that the ground has
been smoothed off, make a good ballroom. A partner has just been swung clear
off the floor into a tent, onto a man who was writing a letter, and from the
sound is going to end up in a fight. "Taps" are sounded at 9 P. M.,
which is a signal for lights out and quiet in the camp.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 39
I wrote to Samuel
Doughty. I got my ambrotype, $1. I slept on floor. Halbreed company armed and
uniformed, one by the name of John Brown.
SOURCE: Lewis C.
Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 4
I wrote Sister
Letitia, 3c. pie, 10c.
SOURCE: Lewis C.
Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 4
I wrote to Moses
Paxson, Plums, 5c. Letter, 3. Fuss with Capt. Ambler of Steele county, and Private
Beauregard.
SOURCE: Lewis C.
Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 4
NEW YORK CITY, and my first
peep at it. We are in City Hall Park, but I must go back and tell of our
getting here. We had an all night's ride, passing many large places. So many
knew the names of them, we greenhorns only had to listen to find out where we
were all the time. Some did not want to sleep, and the rest were not allowed
to. The boatmen must be glad to see the last of us. We passed laws for their observance
as well as for our own. The officers kept out of sight. I suppose they were
asleep somewhere. May be it is well for both them and ourselves that they did
not interfere, for the devil in each man seemed to have got loose. We didn't
try to run the steamer but we ran everything else in sight. We took turns
riding the walking beam. Some wanted to and the rest had to, and the wonder is
no one was killed, or at least crippled. We landed at the foot of Harrison
Street, and marched to the City Hall Park, where I am now seated on the front
porch of a tremendous great building, writing about it in my diary. Everything
is clean here, and everything to me is new. I have never been in New York
before, and I don't suppose I shall see very much of it now. I am on business
for the boss, and cannot fool away the time running around the city, even if I
was allowed to, which I am not. The officers have us shut in here, with a high
picket fence, made of iron, around us on every side. Soldiers, real soldiers,
are on guard just outside, keeping a close watch that none of us crawl under or
jump over. We first had a good wash, then a good breakfast, and then were let
alone to read the papers, or write letters or do anything we chose. I had a
good nap. The stone I lay on was but little harder than my bunk in the barracks
at Hudson, and it was a great deal warmer. The papers say the Rebs are expected
to attack Harpers Ferry to-day. Why couldn't they wait until we got there?
Maybe they have heard of us and are improving the time before we get there.
Captain Bostwick has gone home for a visit, saying he would meet us in
Washington.
Night. On the cars in Jersey
City. Part of the regiment has gone on another train, and we are to meet in
Philadelphia. We marched on the ferry-boat in double file, and were made to
kneel on one knee, leaving the other sticking up for the man ahead to sit on.
If it was done for our comfort it was a complete failure, but if it was to keep
us from running all over the boat it worked well. Before we left City Hall Park
I got a fellow on the outside to get me a bottle of blackberry brandy, and when
we were finally seated in the car I out with my bottle and gave it a swing
around my head to let the fellows see what I had, when it slipped from my hand
and went to smash on the floor. Much as some of us needed it, we could only get
a smell, as the fumes rose up to aggravate us.
*They did correspond, and
after the war were married, and as far as I ever knew or heard lived happily
ever after.
SOURCE: Lawrence Van
Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p.
17-8
Washing day. All who are not
on duty were let out to go in the stream below the mill and wash. We took off
our clothes and rubbed and scrubbed them, until one color, instead of several,
prevailed, and then we sat around and waited for them to dry in the sun. From
the looks of the wash-water, the clothes should look better than they do. They
fitted rather snug when we got into them, but we will soon stretch them out
again.
Night. A letter from father!
So far as I know, he never wrote a letter before. I do not remember that I ever
saw his handwriting until now. I expected to hear from him through others, but
of getting a letter direct from him, I never even thought. Another was from my
sister, Mrs. Loucks. They are all well, getting along first-rate without me. I
guess I was not of so much account as I thought. However, I am delighted to
hear about them. Captain Bostwick returned this P. M. and has told me all the
home news. I almost feel as if I had been home, he told me so much about every
thing I wanted to know, and best of all brought me father's letter. I will
answer that letter right off, now, and then go to bed, where many of the
company already are.
SOURCE: Lawrence Van
Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p.
25
We went in
Mississippi swimming. I wrote to father. Snake in first lieutenant's blanket.
SOURCE: Lewis C.
Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson:
Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 3
Visited St. Paul, at
cave, St. Anthony, Minneapolis, etc. Hardees tactics, $1.50. Ferry, 10c.
Stamps, 25c. Toll, $1. Luncheon fare 40c. I wrote to father.
SOURCE: Lewis C.
Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson:
Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 3
was cloudy but not much rain And I wrote a letter to S. F. Compton today.
SOURCE: Bartlett Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett
Yancey Malone, p. 12
Yesterday we had nothing to do, and spent the day writing letters to friends and relatives at home. In the afternoon had some little excitement over a report that the small-pox was in our regiment, and that we would be sent several miles away from other camps and put in quarantine. I paid but little attention to it at first, thinking it originated as camp rumors generally do, but early this morning orders came to tear down and pack up tents and other baggage, and we were soon on the march.
The report was but too true; four or five cases of small-pox have been taken from our regiment, and we are now in quarantine, four miles from our camp of yesterday. No new cases reported to-day. We are now encamped in the midst of a magnolia forest, entirely away from any habitation, and are confined to a certain limit, beyond which we dare not go, and inside of which no one is allowed to come.
SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 19-20
When I wrote to you two days ago I said appearances indicated that we were about to have a fight. Sure enough, about half an hour after I had finished writing the battle began. Our division was engaged. McGowan's Brigade did not suffer much. It supported Wright's Georgia Brigade of Anderson's Division, and, as the men were not engaged, they had the privilege of lying down. Consequently most of the missiles passed over them. The brigade lost only thirty or forty, and the Thirteenth Regiment had but one killed and two wounded
We were very successful. It is estimated that we killed and wounded about two thousand. We captured about the same number and four cannon.
Our loss was about four hundred. We are still in our old position. There was heavy cannonading this morning on our extreme left. If there was any musketry, it was too far for me to hear it. Just as I began to write this letter I had two wounded men to come in. They were hurt by a shell early this morning.
I had my third mess of beans yesterday, and a big one it was too. I shall have rather a poor dinner to-day—only bread, meat and coffee. We have been getting enough coffee and sugar to have it twice a day ever since I got back from home in April.
The weather is becoming very warm and we need rain. It will soon be too hot for military operations.
When you write again tell me all the little particulars about yourself. You do not know how much it interests me.
Busy replying
to letters from divers[e] office-seekers. They come by the dozens.
This morning after the boys clean up the camp and arrange things in order, they write to their friends. All have a little romance and history to write—a long march—sleepless nights—the beautiful country—the blooming groves—the gushing springs and the leaping fountains—wading creeks—fighting battles—sweeping valley—carrying a sword in one hand and a torch in the other—staining the roads and the projecting rocks with blood—swimming a river, and a hundred other minor incidents are now being painted in pen pictures for those at home.
SOURCE: Daniel Leib
Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry,
p. 159
18th Corps HOSPITAL, Point of Rocks. I have been here a little more than a week and begin to feel a little rested. I have not written a letter for more than a month and about everything has been neglected. I hung around the regiment as long as Ass’t Surgeon Hoyt would allow me to, and the first of the month he piled me into an ambulance and sent me here, saying I could have a much better celebration here than I could in the trenches. This was my first ride in an ambulance and I didn't enjoy it worth a cent. I have always had a strong aversion to that kind of conveyance and have always clung to the hope that I might be spared from it. My health began to fail early in the spring. I said nothing about it, thinking I should improve as the weather grew warmer, but instead of improving I grew worse, until now I am unfit for anything. At first I was terribly afflicted with piles, then chills and fever, and now I have a confirmed liver complaint which no amount of blue mass, calomel or acids affect in the least unless it is to help it along. I reckon if I can keep pretty quiet and can hold out till I get home I shall stand a chance to recover from it, but it will be a slow job.
HARRISONBURG, VIRGINIA, Sunday, October 2, 1864.
DEAREST: — I am writing to you so often these days because I am
thinking of you more anxiously than usual, and on account of the great
uncertainty of our communications. There are some indications today that we
shall push on further south. You will know if we do by the papers. If so we
shall be cut off from friends more than ever.
Dr. Joe has gone with the First Brigade out about six miles to grind up
the wheat at some mills in that quarter. It seems to be a great place for
sport. They are having a jolly time.
We hear from Winchester today. One of our orderlies, Johnny Kaufman,
died of his wound. Captain Hastings and the rest are all doing well.
Great droves of cattle and sheep are going past us north. Everything
eatable is taken or destroyed. No more supplies to Rebels from this valley. No
more invasions in great force by this route will be possible.
P. M. - Indications look more like going on with our campaign. I would
prefer going towards my darling and the chicks. Still, I like to move. We came
here a week ago. After this active year I feel bored when we stop longer than a
day or two. I have tried all available plans to spend time. I read old Harpers,
two of Mrs. Hall's novels, — you know I don't "affect" women's
novels. I find myself now reading “East
Lynne.” Nothing superior in it, but I can read anything.
For the first time in five or six days, we are just startled by cannon
firing and musketry, perhaps four or five miles in our front. It is probably
Rebel cavalry pitching into our foraging parties, or making a reconnaisance to
find whether we have left.
"Have your men under arms,” comes from General Crook. I ask,
"Is it thought to be anything?" "No, but General Sheridan sends
the order to us." Well, we get under arms. This letter is put in my
ammunition box. I mount my horse and see that all are ready. The firing gets
more distant and less frequent. "We have driven them,” somebody
conjectures, and I return to my tent, “East Lynne," and my darling, no
wiser than ever.
I am in receipt of yours of [the] 13th. The mail goes back immediately.
Good-bye. Blessings on your head.
My birthday—forty-two. Wrote to mother. Lieutenant Meigs killed last
night by guerrillas, three miles south of camp. Houses on the road for five
miles burned by order of General Sheridan. Not according to my views or
feelings.*
_______________
* The order was mitigated. Only a few houses near the scene of the
murder were burned.
SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of
Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 522
February 25, 1857.
DEAR SISTER: . . . I am glad to hear of your good health and assiduity to study, and that you are exerting every faculty in the laudable pursuit of education. I am striving equally hard for the same. I am sure that few have the facilities offered for getting an education which I have, and not to take advantage of these privileges is inconsistent. I study from 6 to 7 A. M., and from 8 A. M. to 1 P. M., including recitations; then from 2 to 4 P. M. I read newspapers and write letters; from 4 P. M. till sundown is release from quarters, which I usually spend in the library reading, and then study from 7 to 9.30 P. M.; so that you see my time is pretty well occupied. Perhaps a few of my daily marks would give you an idea of my progress. . . . So long as I can keep up to these marks I am not in danger of being found deficient. . . . I am passionately attached to West Point, and would not give up my appointment here for a million dollars. I want you to come here next encampment and see the beautiful scenery that I have often tried to describe.