Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: September 24, 1864

This morning details were made for picket duty and working on the railroad and the telegraph lines, doing the work laboring men ought to have done. The enemy destroyed about everything connected with the railroad. I was detailed, with twenty men, to report at the station to the road-master. Our equipments were left at the station, while we loaded telegraph poles on flat cars, distributed them along the road, and helped to set them. We were obliged to throw the poles off from the slowly moving train. It was hard and very dangerous work for inexperienced men who were so near used up from hard service during the year. We were thankful when night came and we could return to our camp to rest and sleep.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 127-8

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: July 10, 1862

Grazed our horses and rested. Wrote some.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 20

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Saturday, February 28, 1863

Left Alcorns at 8 A. M. one man hurt by falling limb. took on logs to protect boilers from canon shot. mustered again today. Went on shore in yawl at night to do some cooking. A powerful and sudden blast of wind blowing the tops off of the dead trees. some rain & clear after dark and beautiful moonlight. At one place where we stopped took on a lot of house logs to build a protection for boilers.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 484

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Thursday, May 21, 1863

I rejoined General Johnston at 9 A.M., and was received into his mess. Major Eustis and Lieutenant Washington, officers of his Staff, are thorough gentlemen, and did all in their power to make me comfortable. The first is a Louisianian of wealth (formerly); his negro always speaks French. He is brother to the secretary of Mr Slidell in Paris, and has learnt to become an excellent Staff officer.

I was presented to Captain Henderson, who commanded a corps of about fifty “scouts.” These are employed on the hazardous duty of hanging about the enemy's camps, collecting information, and communicating with Pemberton in Vicksburg. They are a fine-looking lot of men, wild, and very picturesque in appearance.

At 12 noon a Yankee military surgeon came to camp. He had been left behind by Grant to look after the Yankee wounded at Jackson, and he was now anxious to rejoin his general by flag of truce, but General Johnston very prudently refused to allow this, and desired that he should be sent to the North via Richmond. By a very sensible arrangement, both sides have agreed to treat doctors as non-combatants, and not to make prisoners of war of them.

The chief surgeon in Johnston's army is a very clever and amusing Kentuckian, named Dr Yandell. He told me he had been educated in England, and might have had a large practice there.

My friend “Major” very kindly took me to dine with a neighbouring planter, named Harrold, at whose house I met General Gregg, a Texan, who, with his brigade, fought the Yankees at Raymond a few days ago.

After dinner, I asked Mr Harrold to take me over the quarters of his slaves, which he did immediately. The huts were comfortable and very clean; the negroes seemed fond of their master, but he told me they were suffering dreadfully from the effects of the war — he had so much difficulty in providing them with clothes and shoes. I saw an old woman in one of the huts, who had been suffering from an incurable disease for thirteen years, and was utterly useless. She was evidently well cared for, and was treated with affection and care. At all events, she must have benefited largely by the “peculiar institution.”

I have often told these planters that I thought the word “slave” was the most repulsive part of the institution, and I have always observed they invariably shirk using it themselves. They speak of their servant, their boy, or their negroes, but never of their slaves. They address a negro as boy or girl, or uncle or aunty.

In the evening I asked General Johnston what prospect he thought there was of early operations, and he told me that at present he was too weak to do any good, and he was unable to give me any definite idea as to when he might be strong enough to attack Grant. I therefore made up my mind to be off in a day or two, unless something turned up, as I could not afford to wait for events, I have still so much to see.

General Johnston is a very well-read man, and agreeable to converse with. He told me that he considered Marlborough a greater general than Wellington. All Americans have an intense admiration for Napoleon; they seldom scruple to express their regret that he was beaten at Waterloo.

Remarking upon the extreme prevalence of military titles, General Johnston said, “You must be astonished to find how fond all Americans are of titles, though they are republicans; and as they can't get any other sort, they all take military ones.”

Whilst seated round the camp fire in the evening, one of the officers remarked to me, “I can assure you, colonel, that nine men out of ten in the South would sooner become subjects of Queen Victoria than return to the Union.” “Nine men out of ten!” said General Johnston — “ninety-nine out of a hundred; I consider that few people in the world can be more fortunate in their government than the British colonies of North America.” But the effect of these compliments was rather spoilt when some one else said they would prefer to serve under the Emperor of the French or the Emperor of Japan to returning to the dominion of Uncle Abe; and it was still more damaged when another officer alluded in an undertone to the infernal regions as a more agreeable alternative than reunion with the Yankees.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 118

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Thursday, April 3, 1862

Raleigh, Virginia. — The rain last night was merely an April shower. It has cleared off bright and warm. The grass looks fresh and green. I have one hundred and fifty dollars in treasury notes. Last night Lieutenant Hastings with Company I started for the Marshes of Cool to protect the election and if possible catch the Trumps

Election day for West Virginia. One hundred and eight votes polled here, all for the new Constitution. I doubt its success. Congress will be slow to admit another slave State into the Union. The West Virginians are blind to interest as well as duty, or they would abolish slavery instantly. They would make freedom the distinguishing feature of West Virginia. With slavery abolished the State would rapidly fill up with an industrious, enterprising population. As a slave State, slaveholders will not come into it and antislavery and free-labor people will keep away.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 222

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: November 22, 1863

Tullahoma, Tenn., November 22, 1863.

We have been moving about so much lately that I have omitted to write my usual quota of letters. A little more than a week ago, General Slocum received orders to remove his headquarters to Murfreesboro; we arrived there about a week ago Friday, and established ourselves in Rosecrans' old headquarters, the residence of a rebel congressman. Before the war, it must have been a very elegant house, and even as we found it, stripped as it was of all furniture, it seemed quite magnificent to us after living in tents. My room had been the front drawing room and was still decorated by a white marble mantle-piece and bronze chandelier. Every room in the house had a fine, open fireplace in it.

We lived here very comfortably till last Monday, when General Slocum was ordered to Tullahoma on account of a new disposition of troops along the road. We left Murfreesboro Wednesday morning; that same morning Colonel Rogers started home on a sick leave, so that I became acting Assistant Adjutant General of the corps for the time being. The day was a perfect one, and both ourselves and horses felt in fine spirits for a march. Our intention was to ride to Shelbyville that day, about twenty miles. We passed through some of the finest farming country in middle Tennessee, and had a fine chance to see and enjoy it. Much of the land had been used for raising cotton, and occasionally we would meet a wagon-load of this valuable article on its way to Nashville. I don't know when I've enjoyed a ride so much as I did the one that day. We arrived in Shelbyville about sunset. This town is the second in size in Tennessee, and has been a very pretty place, almost like a Northern one; it has been the stronghold of the Unionists of the State. During Wheeler's raid the place was entered by the rebels, and every store and many of the houses were stripped of every article of value.

A gentleman named Ramsay invited the General and myself to stop at his house; we accepted the invitation and were treated with great hospitality. Our host was one of the leading Union men of the county, and we have since learned that it was in a great measure owing to him that the neighborhood had been kept so loyal. The county voted against secession by a very large majority. We left Shelbyville about eleven o'clock the next morning. Our ride that day was through a much wilder country than we had passed through on the day preceding; much of the road was nothing more than a cart-path through the woods, but this was very favorable for horseback riding, and we got along pretty fast. General Slocum came near meeting with a severe accident that afternoon. We were galloping along quite fast when his horse, a large, heavy animal, struck a bad place in the road and fell forward upon his knees; before he could be recovered he rolled over on his side, pinning the General's leg to the ground. We all sprang from our horses, and, after some little struggling on the part of the horse, the General was extricated from his dangerous position. We all thought his leg was broken, for he looked deadly pale, but he relieved our anxiety by saying that he was all right, and after lying down a few minutes, he mounted his other horse and we rode on again. Tullahoma was reached about six P. M., after a ride of twenty-three or four miles.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 156-8

Major Wilder Dwight: January 21, 1862

Head-quarters Examining Board, January 21, 1861.

It has rained and hailed and sleeted for the past four days. We are kept under marching orders, but, I think, with no view of an immediate movement, though it cannot be long before we shall be called on to make ourselves useless or useful, according to our guidance.

I understand your state of suspense as to the army. For myself, I can see no other wisdom than patience and faith. I confess that, now and then, this seems difficult; but whether McClellan will not vindicate himself is not so clear; and if, when our army moves, it moves in organized obedience to a single will, the wonder will not be that so much time has been spent in preparation, but that the preparation has been made. . . . .

While I write this letter, the examination of an unlucky lieutenant is going on. The young man is wandering now through the mazes of battalion drill, and he seems rather lost. I hope this work is nearly over.

On the whole, bad as the season is, and ominous as the anniversary on which I write (six months ago, Bull Run), I should like to see some fighting done.

We have telegraphic news to-day of a “Great battle and victory over Zollicoffer in Kentucky.” I hope it may not dwindle as Nelson's victory did. I take great comfort in reading the extracts from the Southern newspapers. They seem to write without hope. Love to all.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 189-90

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: October 3, 1862

Gen. Wise was countermanded in his march against Williamsburg, by Major-Gen. Gustavus W. Smith. He had 2700 men, the enemy 1500, and he would have captured and slain them all. Gen. Wise was the trusted and revered Governor of Virginia, while Smith was the Street Commissioner in New York.

A strong letter from Vice-President Stephens is published today, in which it is successfully maintained that no power exists, derived either from the Constitution or acts of Congress, for the declaration of martial law. He says all punishments inflicted by military governors on civilians are clearly illegal.

There is a rumor that we have Louisville, but it does not seem to be authentic. We have nothing from Lee, and know not exactly where McClellan is.

Many people thought the President himself would take the field. I doubt not he would have done so if the Provisional Government had continued in existence until independence was achieved.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 163

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: July 28, 1864

I rose early and had the boys plow the turnip-patch. We were just rising from breakfast when Ben Glass rode up with the cry: “The Yankees are coming. Mrs. Burge, hide your mules!” How we were startled and how we hurried the Major to his room! [The Yankees did not come that day, but it was thought best to send Major Ansley away. He left at 2 A. M.]

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 8-9

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Wednesday, March 23, 1864

Weather fine but very chilly. About eight inches of snow fell last night. Major C. G. Chandler is division officer of the day. A review of the army is expected in the course of two or three days. The army is anxiously waiting to see General U. S. Grant; sent in another application to go before General Silas Casey's board this evening; the pickets returned to-night.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 29

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: September 23, 1864

Called up very early. Marching orders received. Report at Martinsburg, a distance about eighteen miles from Charlestown. The road led along the B. & O. R. R., a very rough road for marching over. We entered the town late this afternoon, making good time but very tired. The town was well deserted, having been occupied by the rebels. Our regiment, the first to enter after the enemy left. Marched through the town to the south side. Go into camp in the Faulkner's woods, owned by Charles J. Faulkner, a leading Virginia secessionist, one who did much damage to the Union people in this part of Virginia. Faulkner and his son went south, casting their lots with the Confederacy. His wife and daughter remained at home to hold the large plantation and property. The home was a great resort, from all accounts, for Union officers, who were entertained there. Much valuable information went south from that home. So it was always reported by the Union people in Martinsburg. I put in many hours on picket duty in those woods, while stationed in Martinsburg and vicinity.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 127

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: July 9, 1862

Marched all the forenoon, and went only five miles forward. So many blunders. Encamped on Grand River near it on the edge of the woods, good place.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 20

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Friday, February 27, 1863

Pleasant night. In morning a woman on shore in distress, moving soon after sun up. during day got as far as Gen Aleon's [plantation] where we tied up for night. Weather fine all day writing till midnight.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 484

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Wednesday, May 20, 1863

At 3 A.M. we were awoke by a great bombardment going on at Vicksburg, which lasted about three hours.¹

The assembly was beaten at 7 A.M. by an old nigger, performing on a cracked drum, and its sound was hailed by the soldiers with loud yells.

General Gist, his Staff, and I, breakfasted with Mr Robinson, whose house is charming, and beautifully furnished, and had not been visited by the Yankees.

We had a crazy old planter, named –––, with us, who insisted upon accompanying the column, mounted on a miserable animal which had been left him by the enemy as not being worth carrying away. The small remains of this poor old man's sense had been shattered by the Yankees a few days ago; they cleaned him completely out, taking his horses, mules, cows, and pigs, and stealing his clothes and anything they wanted, destroying what they could not carry away. But what “riled” him most was that he had been visited by a Federal officer, disguised in the Confederate uniform.

Poor old –––, full of rebel zeal, had, on being invited to do so, mounted en croupe behind this officer, and unbosomed himself to him; his fury and rage may be imagined at finding himself shortly afterwards in the very midst of the Federal camp; but the Yankee General M’Pherson ordered him to be released; and it appears that the reason of his being kidnapped, was to extract from him a large quantity of gold, which he was supposed to have hidden somewhere.

This Mr (or Major²) took a great fancy to me, and insisted on picking some of the silk of Indian corn, which he requested I would present to Queen Victoria to show her how far advanced the crops were in Mississippi It was almost painful to hear the manner in which this poor old man gloated over the bodies of the dead Yankees at Jackson, and of his intense desire to see more of them put to death.

The column reached the village or town of Livingston at 11 A.M., where I was introduced to a militia general and his pretty daughter; the latter had been married two days before to a wounded Confederate officer, but the happy couple were just on the point of starting for the Yazoo river, as they were afraid of being disturbed in their felicity by the Yankees.

I now heard every one speaking of the fall of Vicksburg as very possible, and its jeopardy was laid at the door of General Pemberton, for whom no language could be too strong. He was freely called a coward and a traitor. He has the misfortune to be a Northerner by birth, which was against him in the opinion of all here.

General Gist and I cantered on in front of the column, and reached General Johnston's bivouac at 6 P.M.

General Johnston received me with much kindness, when I presented my letters of introduction, and stated my object in visiting the Confederate armies.

In appearance General Joseph E. Johnston (commonly called Joe Johnston) is rather below the middle height, spare, soldierlike, and well set up; his features are good, and he has lately taken to wear a greyish beard. He is a Virginian by birth, and appears to be about fifty-seven years old. He talks in a calm, deliberate, and confident manner; to me he was extremely affable, but he certainly possesses the power of keeping people at a distance when he chooses, and his officers evidently stand in great awe of him. He lives very plainly, and at present his only cooking-utensils consisted of an old coffee-pot and frying-pan—both very inferior articles. There was only one fork (one prong deficient) between himself and Staff, and this was handed to me ceremoniously as the “guest.”

He has undoubtedly acquired the entire confidence of all the officers and soldiers under him. Many of the officers told me they did not consider him inferior as a general to Lee or any one else.

He told me that Vicksburg was certainly in a critical situation, and was now closely invested by Grant. He said that he (Johnston) had 11,000 men with him (which includes Gist's), hardly any cavalry, and only sixteen pieces of cannon; but if he could get adequate reinforcements, he stated his intention of endeavouring to relieve Vicksburg.

I also made the acquaintance of the Georgian General Walker, a fierce and very warlike fire-eater, who was furious at having been obliged to evacuate Jackson after having only destroyed four hundred Yankees. He told me, “I know I couldn't hold the place, but I did want to kill a few more of the rascals.”

At 9 P.M. I returned with General Gist to his camp, as my baggage was there. On the road we were met by several natives, who complained that soldiers were quartering themselves upon them and eating everything.

The bivouacs are extremely pretty at night, the dense woods being lit up by innumerable camp fires.

_______________

¹ I afterwards learnt that this bombardment preceded one of the unsuccessful assaults.

² Nearly every man in this part of the country has a military title.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 114-8

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Sophia Birchard Hayes, April 2, 1862

Camp Hayes, Raleigh, Virginia, April 2, 1862.

Dear Mother: — I received your letter yesterday, just one day after it was written. Very glad you are so well and happy. You do not seem to me so near seventy years old. I think of you as no older than you always were. I hope you may see other happy birthdays.

Our men stationed here, nine companies, were paid for the third time yesterday. They send home about thirty thousand dollars. Many families will be made glad by it. A small proportion of our men have families of their own. The money goes chiefly to parents and other relatives. . . .

I send you two letters showing the business [we] are in. General Beckley is the nabob of this county; commanded a regiment of Rebels until we came and scattered [it]. He is now on his parole at home. The other is from an old lady, the wife of the Baptist preacher here. Her husband preached Secession and on our coming fled South.

We are all in the best of health. Love to Sophia and Mrs. Wasson.

Your affectionate son,

Rutherford.

P. S. — The total amount sent home from our regiment figures up thirty-five thousand dollars.

Mrs. Sophia Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 221-2

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: Notes From A Journal

NOTES PROM A JOURNAL.

When we first came to this place, General Slocum received a telegram from headquarters which said that if we needed any scouting or important secret service done, we had better use a certain John Douglas, who was very faithful and efficient. The General told me he wanted me to take charge of everything in the scouting department, and that I had better see Douglas as soon as possible. At this point, it is very necessary to depend on scouts and citizens, as our force is very small and we are entirely without cavalry, so I sent for Douglas and he came to see me the next morning.

I was very much struck by his appearance; he was the first man who came up at all to my idea of what a scout should be like. He is a man about fifty years old, I should think, medium size and a little bent over, but with a very tough, hard looking frame; his striking features, though, are his eyes; they are jet black and piercing in their expression, with a restless, eager look, as if he was always expecting to see the rifle of an enemy sticking out from behind a tree or bush; his eyebrows are also black, but his hair has turned gray with age. His walk was very peculiar, and was exactly like that described of Leather-stocking in the “Deerslayer,” a sort of gait which, without seeming to be much exertion, was equal to what we call a dog trot. He made me think of all the old backwoods heroes I had ever read of, from Daniel Boone down.

I found that he had papers from Rosecrans, Burnside, Dupont and several others, all testifying to his marked ability and energy, and his entire knowledge of every part of Tennessee and northern Georgia, and Alabama. I talked with him some time and found that he was very intelligent and well informed.

A few days after my first interview with Douglas, I received a telegram from Murfreesboro stating that they had certain information that a band of six or eight hundred guerrillas were in the neighborhood of McMinnville. I sent for Douglas and told him I wanted to know the truth of the story. He didn't stay five minutes after I had told him the rumor; this was about seven o'clock in the evening. The next afternoon, about three o'clock, he made his appearance and said the story was true; since he left me, he had ridden nearly seventy miles to within three or four miles of the guerrilla camp. The next day we were told by some citizens that this cavalry was supported by infantry, and that it was the advance of a portion of Bragg's army. We didn't believe this at all; still I was anxious to find out just what the force was. I sent Douglas out again, telling him to find out every particular before he came back. He was gone two days, and on his return, he said he had spent several hours inside the enemy's camp; his information proved that we had nothing at all to fear from them except depredations. I asked him how he got inside their lines; he said that the picket he passed was a very green-looking countryman; that when he approached, he was ordered to halt; he rode up to the picket and said he was a bearer of dispatches to the commanding officer. “Who is the commanding officer?” said the sentinel. “That is nothing to do with your instructions, and you will get into difficulty if you don't let me pass.” The sentinel passed him, and he went inside and talked with the men and officers and saw the commanders. There was nothing remarkable in this, but a man discovered as a spy by these guerrillas would be hung or have his throat cut five minutes after he was caught.

The pay Douglas gets as chief of scouts of this vicinity is only three dollars per day, very small compensation for the risk. He has told me a number of stories of the sufferings of East Tennesseeans; they are equal to any of Brownlow's; he says there is no exaggeration in the latter's statements.

He told me of one young lady who lived with her mother near Knoxville, whose brothers and father were strong Unionists. They had hidden away among the mountains. He described her as a very refined, well educated young woman. One day, a party of guerrillas came to her house and took her and her mother out in the woods and tied them to a tree; they then asked them to tell where their men relations were hidden; they refused to tell them; these brutes gave them each a terrible whipping, but they still refused to give them any information. These chivalric gentlemen then put nooses round their necks, untied them and threatened them with instant hanging if they didn't tell what they required. The young girl told them they might be able to torture her more than she could bear, but before she would say one word that would compromise her father or brothers, she would bite off her tongue and spit it in their rebel faces.

They raised them off the ground three times, nearly killing them. Afterwards, this same girl became a spy for our cavalry and led them on several successful expeditions. Douglas was on one of them, and said that during a fight that occurred, she insisted on staying under the heaviest of the fire. She used sometimes to go inside the rebel lines and act as nurse in one of the rebel hospitals; after she had got all the information that she could, she would return inside our lines and tell what she had found out.

Yesterday there was very near being a terrible accident on the railroad, about fifty miles from here, in amongst the mountains. Some infernal guerrillas put a species of torpedo underneath a rail, just before the passenger train from Nashville was due. Fortunately a locomotive came along just before it and set the machine off; the explosion was tremendous; the engine and tender were blown to pieces; railroad ties and rails were blown as high as the tops of trees; the engineer was thrown twenty or thirty feet and severely injured. If it had not been for this locomotive, probably hundreds of men would have been killed and wounded, as the cars go crowded with officers and soldiers. The perpetrator of this outrage, of course, could not be discovered, but a man living near by seemed to be implicated, and his house and barn were burnt.

They are very summary in dealing with guerrillas in this country when they catch them. There is one despatch from General Crook to Rosecrans on record to this effect: that he (Crook) fell in with a party of guerrillas, twenty in number; that in the fight, twelve of them were killed and the rest were taken prisoners. He regrets to state that on the march to camp, the eight were so unfortunate as to fall off a log and break their necks.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 152-6

Major Wilder Dwight: January 17, 1862

Cantonment Hicks (so called), January 17, 1862.

I had a corpulent little letter from you, — one actually swelling with agreeable importance. I hope Mrs. Ticknor's surprise at my acknowledging the present of the stockings was not displeasure. I thought so long a pair of stockings would bear a short note; and I really wanted the opportunity to express my gratitude for the service she had done us. You see a letter from no less an authority than George Washington suggests exactly the counterpart of the scheme of benevolence of her association, — an extra shirt for the soldier.

Life lags along with us. It has its family cares and its family jars; but, on the whole, all is well; and the lengthening days already begin to promise the coming spring. —— is not right in his idea that I do not want to come home; but I have never seen the time when I could properly do so, and am quite content to wait till such a time. I should prefer to have activity and success precede my visit. I am quite busy with my duties on the Examining Board, and there seems no limit to the amount of work provided for us. The army certainly needs a great deal of weeding out among its officers.

I find General Hamilton and Colonel Geary very agreeable associates. The former is really a splendid man, and a fine officer, — educated, self-reliant, brave. I have great confidence in him, and wish our regiment were in his brigade. General Hamilton is from Wisconsin, where he went a few years ago on resigning from the army. . . . .

I hope father is regaining his confidence in McClellan. You see the telegraph says that he has persuaded the Congressional Committee into content, after spending the day with them. I think father ought to grant him another lease of hope and confidence; but for these rascally contractors, swindlers, defaulters, and other leeches I have only hatred and contempt. A vigorous and lively gallows is what this country wants now.

Any change in the War Department is a change for the better. I should have been glad to see General Banks there, however. I have great faith in his ability and statesmanship, and in his thorough comprehension of this Rebellion. But as a general in the field he has not fair scope for his powers yet. Perhaps it may come, however.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 188-9

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: October 2, 1862

News from the North indicate that in Europe all expectation of a restoration of the Union is at an end; and the probability is that we shall soon be recognized, to be followed, possibly, by intervention. Nevertheless, we must rely upon our own strong arms, and the favor of God. It is said, however, an iron steamer is being openly constructed in the Mersey (Liverpool), for the avowed purpose of opening the blockade of Charleston harbor.

Yesterday in both Houses of Congress resolutions were introduced for the purpose of retaliating upon the North the barbarities contemplated in Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation.

The Abolitionists of the North want McClellan removed — I hope they may have their will. The reason assigned by his friends for his not advancing farther into Virginia, is that he has not troops enough, and the Secretary of War has them not to send him. I hope this may be so. Still, I think he must fight soon if he remains near Martinsburg.

The yellow fever is worse at Wilmington. I trust it will not make its appearance here.

A resolution was adopted yesterday in the Senate, to the effect that martial law does not apply to civilians. But it has been applied to them here, and both Gen. Winder and his Provost Marshal threatened to apply it to me.

Among the few measures that may be attributed to the present Secretary of War, is the introduction of the telegraph wires into his office. It may possibly be the idea of another; but it is not exactly original; and it has not been productive of good. It has now been in operation several weeks, all the way to Warrenton; and yet a few days ago the enemy's cavalry found that section of country undefended, and took Warrenton itself, capturing in that vicinity some 2000 wounded Confederates, in spite of the Secretary's expensive vigilance. Could a Yankee have been the inventor of the Secretary's plaything? One amused himself telegraphing the Secretary from Warrenton, that all was quiet there; and that the Yankees had not made their appearance in that neighborhood, as had been rumored! If we had imbeciles in the field, our subjugation would be only pastime for the enemy. It is well, perhaps, that Gen. Lee has razeed the department down to a second-class bureau, of which the President himself is the chief.

I see by a correspondence of the British diplomatic agents, that their government have decided no reclamation can be made on us for burning cotton and tobacco belonging to British subjects, where there is danger that they may fall into the hands of the enemy. Thus the British government do not even claim to have their subjects in the South favored above the Southern people. But Mr. Benjamin is more liberal, and he directed the Provost Marshal to save the tobacco bought on foreign account. So far, however, the grand speculation has failed.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 161-2

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: July 27, 1864

Major Ansley and family have remained. We are feeling more settled and have begun to bring to light some of the things which we had put away.

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 8

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Tuesday, March 22, 1864

The wind has blown furiously from the southeast all day. It's by far the most disagreeable day of the winter; commenced snowing about 5 p. m. and now at 11 p. m. there is eight inches on a level. My application to go before General Silas Casey's board for examination for a field office in colored troops has not been returned yet; shall put in another to-morrow.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 28-9