Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, September 25, 1861

We had a great time to-day, having sent out this morning some six thousand troops, with about one hundred wagons, on a foraging expedition. This evening they returned, loaded with hay, oats, corn, cows, sheep, hogs, and one Irishman—all captured from the enemy. In this deserted and desolated country, where we have for weeks been enjoying (?) rural life without a sign of pig or poultry, without even those indispensable concomitants of civil life-the cries of babies, or the flapping in the wind of confidential garments from clothes lines in the back yard*—the sight of the woolly bleaters called back reminiscences of savory mutton and warm under-dresses, with whispered wishes for the time when we may return to the pleasures of civil life.

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*A something whispers to me that if this should ever be read by housekeeper, it may call up unpleasant reminiscences of "ironing days." I hope not.

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. 37

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Tuesday, October 7, 1862

This morning we again move early. We cross the Hatchie to-day, entering the great Mississippi pineries. We find it a barren wilderness. All day we keep sending prisoners to the rear. Nothing but a wreck is seen on the war path. The road is lined with old, broken wagons, tents, cooking utensils and blown up caissons. The exhausted rebels fall by the way, hundreds are being picked up and are found in a pitiful condition, being half starved; but none are found who fell in love with Corinth, and by the way they don't like to talk about this subject, or at least they don't seem inclined to introduce it. About dark we go into camp the boys make a raid upon a flock of sheep close by, and the Seventh have mutton chops for supper. It is over now and they are cheerful, and many a soldier sits round the camp fires enjoying hugely his pipe and “legal tender.” We know by experience that it is an earthly heaven for a soldier and his comrade to sit by the camp fire's glimmering embers, and while from each other's pipe the spiral festoons are forming in air to talk of home and the halcyon days that have flown. And then, going to sleep, dream of glory, and wreaths, telling of fame that will not vanish, but wreaths that are as fadeless as the stars in the canopy above.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 111-2

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: May 20, 1862

REASONING. 

Lying around here in the woods, hearing no sound but the moaning of the wind through the tree tops, is rather dull business. There is nothing in it that inspires any lofty, rapturous thought, and yet it inspires thought, and already one of Mr. Bogey’s sheep has fallen a victim to thoughts inspired by the soughing of the wind through this dark forest shutting out the day; I reckon it will not be necessary to say anything to Mr. Bogey about it, as he is a loyal man, and, as the lawyers say, the presumption is he would be more than glad to contribute a mutton in suppression of this unholy rebellion. 

THE PINE FORESTS.

The woods here abound in timber of the finest description, many of the trees attaining height of more than 100 feet. It is ... seldom one is seen of more than two feet in diameter at its base, tapering but slightly and without limbs for a distance of from 60 to 80 feet. I have seen some that would square fifteen inches, 80 feet from the stump. These are the turpentine trees, and the pitch, or turpentine as it is called, is obtained by cutting a wide, deep box at the base of the tree capable of holding two or three quarts of the pitch. From each corner of the box the bark is stripped off, coming to a point about three feet above the box. This is done when the tree is first boxed. The next year about three feet more of the bark is removed, coming to a point as before. This process goes on until the tree is blazed for a distance of 20 or more feet, and can be done on the east, south and west sides of the trees. The tree will run pitch quite a number of years before it dies, and is then called lightwood, and is either split up into rails or converted into tar. The pitch that runs into the boxes is dipped out into barrels, and is called dip or virgin turpentine, while that which adheres to the tree is scraped off and is called scrape, and is less valuable than the dip. The pitch is barreled up and sold to the distillers. Tar is obtained by cutting the lightwood into lengths of about eight feet and split fine; a tunnel-shaped hole is dug in the ground, with the center about three feet deep, and from the center a drain runs to a barrel or vat sunk low enough in the ground to receive the tar as it runs from the kiln. The wood is packed in this hole with the ends to the center, keeping the center lowest; when all the wood required for the kiln is piled up, the sides and top are plastered over with clay, and the fire kindled on top. The fire smouldering down through the pile, tries out the tar, which settling to the bottom, runs out into the vat, and is then barreled. A kiln will run from ten to twenty barrels according to size.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 59-60

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: November 1, 1861

WE ARRIVE AT NEW YORK.

We left Worcester about 5 o'clock last evening. Arriving at Norwich, we went aboard the large and splendid Steamer Connecticut, the regiment numbering one thousand and thirty, with all our horses, wagons and camp equipage. The staunch steamer bore us rapidly across the sound, landing us in New York about 9 o'clock this morning.

After disembarking and forming the regiment, we marched amid a perfect storm of applause and the New Yorker's peculiar “hi! hi!” to the City Hall park. A guard was then posted and the regiment dismissed until drum call. A committee of gentlemen waited on the colonel, inviting him, his officers and the band, to a dinner at the Astor House. After they had gone, we fellows, by invitation, marched into the park barracks, to regale ourselves on mutton soup. And in all fairness, I must say that a worse soup or dirtier surroundings never came under my observation. I didn't hanker for any, and beat a hasty retreat. If that soup didn't smell to heaven, it must have attained a high altitude above the city. Fortunate New Yorkers, that dwell in basements. I suppose the evening papers will have it that the 25th Massachusetts regiment dined at the Astor House. So we shall get the name, if we missed the turkey. Feeling inclined to take a stroll and see the sights of the big city (the guards not being very effective), it was an easy matter to break the hounds, and we had things our own way until about 4 o'clock, when the regiment was again formed.

MARCHING DOWN BROADWAY.

With an easy, swinging gait, in column of platoons, we marched down Broadway, looking the very soul of soldiery, and were greeted with a perfect ovation all along the route, until we reached the Jersey City ferry, when we crossed to Jersey City, and took ears for Philadelphia.

A STREAK OF LUCK.

While waiting in the cars at Jersey City, the depot and platforms were crowded with people, all anxious to see and talk with us. Happening to have a seat next to the window, a gentleman engaged me in conversation. He asked all manner of questions about the regiment, and among others, if we were well provided for, meaning, I supposed, with clothing, blankets, rations, etc. I said we seemed to be well provided with everything, except perhaps the sinews of war; in that direction I thought we were rather weak. On hearing that, he drew from the depths of his pantaloons pocket, a couple of half dollars and tendered me, which I accepted with many thanks, and best wishes for his health and happiness. That was true patriotism; good fellow! long may you wave.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 8-9

James Monroe, Peter Heines, Henry James Morris, and Matthew Bodams to William Still, August 17, 1856

TORONTO, C. W., Aug. 17th, 1856.

MR. STILL: — Dear Sir — These few lines may find you as they leave us, we are well at present and arrived safe in Toronto. Give our respects to Mrs. S.— and daughter. Toronto is a very extensive place. We have plenty of pork, beef and mutton. There are five market houses and many churches. Female wages is 62½ cents per day, men's wages is $1 and york shilling. We are now boarding at Mr. George Blunt’s, on Centre street, two doors from Elm, back of Lawyer's Hall, and when you write to us, direct your letter to the care of Mr. George Blunt, &c.

James Monroe, Peter Heines, Henry James Morris, and Matthew Bodams.

SOURCE: William Still, The Underground Railroad: A Record of Facts, Authentic Narratives, Letters &c., p. 317

William T. Sherman to George Mason Graham, November 25, 1859

Seminary, Nov. 25, 1859.

DEAR GENERAL: Young Mr. Jarreau is now here and says his wagon is near at hand, with a quarter of mutton for Mr. Vallas and myself. As I am staying with “carpenters’ mess,” I thank you for the favor and will see that Mr. Vallas gets the whole with your compliments. Work progresses slow, but sure. I have the regulations done and several other papers ready for the meeting Monday. As time passes, and Mr. Vallas is not certain that he can get one hundred copies of Algebra at New Orleans I have ordered them of the publisher in New York. . .

Please let Mr. St. Ange give you the title of his text books, grammar and dictionary. All other text books, ought to be approved by the Academic Board, but as that can't assemble in time, we must take for granted that these preliminary books are absolutely required in advance. I take it for granted the particular grammar and dictionary can be had in New Orleans. . .

SOURCES: The article is abstracted in Walter L. Fleming’s, General W.T. Sherman as College President, p. 61-2

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: January 1, 1864

1st. Happy New Year! Gay and festive. Frozen and just starving. Re-enlistment question presented to the boys. Three from the 2nd Ohio. Took dinner at hdqrs., at white house. Cabbage and beef and mutton. Had a chat with the people. All have suffered badly. Even underclothes taken during the late fights by rebs, also wheat and corn. First-rate visit with Col. Garrard and Allen. Review of campaign. Hard bread, flour and pork for the boys. Makes me happy. Don't ask more satisfaction than to get plenty of rations. Have been half crazy with anxiety for days.

First command in line east of Mossy Creek. Rained last night. Turned cold about 12 P. M. and blew a hurricane. Awful tedious day. Boys must suffer very much. Col. and staff up and around fires early.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 104

Diary of John Hay: February 9, 1864

Jacksonville. . . . . We came to Jacksonville, gay with flags and busy with shipping at noon. I landed and found no General, no staff, no means of information. Ignorance the densest. Met Dorman, who took me to Mrs. Taylor’s. I saw in a few moments' glance the wretched story of two years. A lady, well-bred and refined, dressed worse than a bound girl, with a dirty and ragged gown that did not hide her trim ankles and fine legs. A white-haired, heavy-eyed, slow-speaking old young man. A type of thousands of homes where punishment of giant crimes has lit on humble innocents.

I put on my seven-leaguers and rode with Reese and Place in the afternoon around the pickets. Reese selected points for fortifications. We saw two negro regiments, one at dress parade, gay with banners, one in camp, fragrant with salt-horse. Some firing in the front, with ultimate intentions of mutton or fresh pork. As we came home we saw a train going to provision Gen Gilmore’s advance; — a pretty dowdy walking in the silent street, — and some blue-bellied vandals making themselves agreeable to one of the few remaining families.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 162-3; Michael Burlingame, Editor, Inside Lincoln's White House: The Complete Civil War Diary of John Hay, p. 159-60

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Sunday, August 28, 1864

Quiet, pleasant day. I live comparatively well here, and am quite comfortable. More prisoners come in to-day. Lieutenant-colonel Walker, Hancock's Assistant Adjutant-general, brought in recaptured, taken first at Reams Station; got within thirty yards of our pickets on James, which he swam. Tells me Macy is badly hurt. I dreamt it a week ago. Patten lost a leg. Walker was dressed in rags and filth, but how undisguisable the gentleman is. I was very much taken with him. He knew me, but I had never seen him. Roast mutton for dinner. I am treated with marked consideration just now for some reason or other. The surgeon marked for me good diet.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 131-2