Diary of Musician David Lane, August 28, 1863

Camp Dick Robinson, Ky. Again we are on the move en route to Crab Orchard, thirty miles from our late camp, where a military post is to be established. I understand there is to be a line of posts from Lexington to Cumberland Gap. Report says these posts are to be held by the Ninth Corps. I hope not. I much prefer active service, with its toil and exposure, to a life of comparative ease in camp. While there is work to be done, and God gives me strength, I want to be doing. When I can be of no more service, then I would go home.

But I see no preparations for field service. We have no artillery or ambulances, which is proof conclusive. I was disappointed in Camp Dick Robinson. I had read so much of it, I expected to find a military station, or fortifications of some kind. Instead, I find a beautiful grove of oak and black walnut trees. It is noted as being the first camping ground occupied by loyal troops in Kentucky. General Nelson, its founder, who was shot last fall by General Davis, is buried here.

I have borne the march well today. My feet were somewhat tired, and what wonder? Two hundred twenty pounds the weight of myself and load is quite a load to carry ten miles over a macadamized road in half a day.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 85-6

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 30, 1863

Crab Orchard, Ky. We arrived at 10 a. m., making ten miles from Lancaster this morning. Crab Orchard is a lovely town of about one thousand inhabitants. We are encamped about one mile south of the village, in a lovely spot, shut in on all sides by high hills and forests. To the south, far in the distance, the Cumberland Mountains raise their blue peaks as landmarks to guide us on our course when next we move.

From what I see and hear of the surrounding country, the boys will have to depend on their rations for food.

Soldiers are strange beings. No sooner were our knapsacks unslung than every man of us went to work as though his very life depended on present exertions. We staked out streets, gathered stakes and poles with which to erect our tents, and now, at 3 p. m., behold! a city has arisen, like a mushroom, from the ground. Everything is done as though it were to be permanent, when no man knows how long we may remain or how soon we may move on.

Part of our route from Camp Parks lay through a country made historic by the chivalric deeds of Daniel Boone. We passed his old log fort, and the high bluff from which he hurled an Indian and dashed him in pieces on the rocks below. At the foot of the bluff is the cave in which he secreted himself when hard pressed by savages. His name is chiseled in the rock above the entrance. The place is now being strongly fortified.

We had a lively skirmish in Company G this morning. About a week ago the Brigade Surgeon ordered quinine and whiskey to be issued to every man in the brigade, twice daily. During our march the quinine had been omitted, but whiskey was dealt out freely.

Solon Crandall—the boy who picked the peaches while under fire at South Mountain—is naturally pugnacious, and whiskey makes him more so. This morning, while under the influence of his "ration," he undertook the difficult task of "running" Company G.

Captain Tyler, hearing the "racket," emerged from his tent and inquired the cause. At this Solon, being a firm believer in "non-intervention," waxed wroth. In reply he told the Captain, "It's none of your business. Understand, I am running this company, and if you don't go back to your tent and mind your own business, I'll have you arrested and sent to the bull pen. At this the Captain "closed" with his rival in a rough-and-tumble fight, in which the Captain, supported by a Sergeant, gained the day.

I have the most comfortable quarters now I have ever had. Our tent is composed of five pieces of canvas, each piece the size of our small tents—two for the top, or roof, the eaves three feet from the ground. The sides and ends are made to open one at a time or all at once, according to the weather. Three of us tent together, and we have plenty of room. We have bunks made of boards, raised two feet from the ground. This, with plenty of straw, makes a voluptuous bed. I received a letter from home last evening, dated August 13th. Oh, these vexatious postal delays; they are the bane of my life. I wonder if postmasters are human beings, with live hearts inside their jackets, beating in sympathetic unison with other hearts. I wonder did they ever watch and wait, day after day, until hope was well-nigh dead, conscious that love had sped its message and was anxiously awaiting a return. A letter from home! What thrilling emotions of pleasure; what unfathomable depths of joy it brings the recipient. It is not altogether the words, be they many or few, but the remembrances they call forth; the recognition of the well-known handwriting; old associations and past scenes are brought forth from the storehouse of the memory and held up to view. The joy of meeting—the agony of parting—all are lived over again.

We are having brigade inspection today, which is suggestive of a move, but our artillery has not turned up yet, and we will not take the field without it.

The health of our men has improved wonderfully since we reached Kentucky. A more rugged, hearty set of men I never saw than the few who are left. But, as I look around upon the noble fellows, now drawn up in line for inspection, a feeling of sadness steals over me. One short year ago nine hundred ninety-eight as brave, true men as ever shouldered gun marched forth to battle in their country's cause. Of all that noble band, only two hundred in line today. Where are the absent ones? Some, it is true, are home on furlough, but not all. They have left a bloody track from South Mountain's gory height through Antietam, Fredericksburg and Vicksburg to Jackson, Mississippi.

Oh, how I miss familiar faces!

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 86-89

Senator Charles Sumner to Henry Wilson, April 29, 1852

I notice the attack on me in the 'Liberator.' If need be, I shall show backbone in resisting the pressure even of friends. Had I uttered a word for Drayton and Sayres in the Senate, I should have dealt a blow at them which they well understood. At present nothing can be done for them in the Senate. I have presented their case to the President, and am sanguine in believing that they will be pardoned. But of this not a word at present.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 278

Samuel Gridley Howe to Senator Charles Sumner, 1852

God bless you for your truly noble and courageous course! Follow it up to the end, however, without caring for blessing or cursing. Such things do my very heart good, and make me love you, if possible, more than ever.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 278

Wendell Phillips to Senator Charles Sumner, 1852

I congratulate you most sincerely on the happy issue or your efforts for Drayton and Sayres. You have earned your honors.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 278

Senator Charles Sumner to John Bigelow, February 3, 1852

I am won very much by Houston's conversation.¹ With him the antislavery interest would stand better than with any man who seems now among possibilities. He is really against slavery, and has no prejudice against Free Soilers. In other respects he is candid, liberal, and honorable. I have been astonished to find myself so much of his inclining.

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¹ General Samuel Houston, senator from Texas, was mentioned at the time among the Democratic candidates for the Presidency.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 278

Senator Charles Sumner to Theodore Parker, February 6, 1852

I have yours of 25th of January proposing to me to write an article on Judge Story in the Westminster Review. As a filial service I should be glad to do this; but how can I? I rarely go to bed before one or two o'clock, and then I leave work undone which ought to be done.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 278

Senator Charles Sumner to John Bigelow, February 8, 1852

Pardon me if I say frankly you have done injustice to Story.¹ I admire him as a jurist, but with a discrimination between his titles to regard for his judgments and his books. The former I have always thought unique in variety, learning, point, usefulness, and amount. I love his memory, but I cannot sympathize with much of his politics. Even you will find much to praise in the accumulated expression of his Northern sentiments against doughfaces and the aggressions of the slave-power. I have known many judges and jurists, but I have never known one so completely imbued with jurisprudence as Story.

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¹ Mr. Bigelow had in a review of Judge Story's "Life and Letters," in the New York "Evening Post," Jan. 29 and Feb. 4, 1852, disparaged the judge's character as a jurist and author.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, pp. 278-9

Senator Charles Sumner to John Bigelow, March 2, 1852

Congress and all the world have a vacation to-day to quaff fresh air, sunshine, and champagne on board the 'Baltic.'¹ I voted for the adjournment, but did not care to put myself in the great man-trap set especially for members of Congress. I see nothing certain in the Presidential horizon. In all my meditations I revert with new regret to the attempted reconciliation in '49 in your State. Without that we should now control the free States.

I read carefully and enjoyed much Mr. Bryant's address.² It was a truthful, simple, and delicate composition, and, much as I value sculpture and Greenough, I cannot but add will be a more durable monument to Cooper than any other. Webster's historical article was crude and trite enough.

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¹ Of the Collins line of steamships, whose owners were then seeking a subsidy.

²  On J. Fenimore Cooper, Feb. 25, 1852, at a meeting of which Mr. Webster was chairman, called to raise funds for a monument to the novelist. Sumner's reply to the invitation to attend the meeting is printed in his Works, vol. iii. p. 43.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 279

Senator Charles Sumner to John Bigelow, March 26, 1853

The post of assistant secretary of state was offered to my brother; but I write, not for any public correction of your paper, but merely for your private information. More than ten days ago Mr. Marcy communicated to me personally his desire to have my brother in the place, his sense of his fitness beyond that of any other person in the country, and also the extent to which he was plagued by applications from persons who would make the office only a clerkship. My brother was absent from Washington at the time. At the request of Mr. Marcy I sent for him; and on his arrival, at Mr. Marcy's request, he reported himself at the state department, was most cordially welcomed, was assured that not only the secretary but the President desired him to be assistant secretary, that his knowledge of European affairs was needed, that it was the intention to raise the salary of the office and to make it a desirable position. At three different stages of a protracted interview the matter was thus pressed upon my brother. But in the course of the interview Mr. Marcy expressed a desire for some confession on the subject of slavery by which my brother should be distinguished from me, some acceptance of the Baltimore platform, - all of which he peremptorily declined to do, in a manner that made Mr. Marcy say to me afterwards that he had behaved in an honorable manner.' After my brother had fully declared his determination, and his abnegation of all desire for office, of which I do not speak in detail, the Secretary still expressed a desire for his services. Subsequently my brother addressed him a brief note absolutely declining, and in another note recommended the appointment of Dudley Mann. This affair has got into the newspapers, but by no suggestion of mine or of my brother.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, pp. 279-80

Diary of Private William S. White, June 1, 1862

We cannot as yet procure the full particulars regarding the battle of "Seven Pines" fought yesterday and to-day. As well as I can learn the plan was this: the Yankees had crossed a large force on the south-side of the Chickahominy, and on the night of the 30th of May, we had a most terrific storm. Our Commander, General Jos. E. Johnston, concluding that the bridges were all washed away, and the river past fording, concluded to attack the Yankees on the south-side and crush them out before they could be reinforced. On account of the tardiness of General Huger the plan was not fully successful, though we surprised the enemy, capturing a large number of prisoners with several pieces of artillery. Our camp was on the main road leading to Seven Pines, but 'twas difficult to handle artillery and we received no orders to move. What a heart-rending scene it is to witness the wounded brought in from a terrible battle field. The people of Richmond turned out en masse to render aid to our wounded soldiers. Many a wounded soldier-boy from the sunny South will never cease to remember the fair form of the "city belle" as she soothed his aching brow or bound up his wounded limb. Too often do we hear our Southern allies cursing the people of Richmond as a set of speculators thriving on our misfortunes, but now many of them have been convinced that "in the hour of pain and anguish," Richmond can and will do all within her power to aid those who are seeking to uphold our cause.

'Tis undoubtedly true that Richmond has changed greatly since the war began, for it has, I am sorry to say, become the headquarters of all of the "fancy men" of the South—gentlemen of the Hebrew persuasion have made it their rendezvous to sell blockade goods, and countless numbers of Yankee spies, though outwardly swearing allegiance to our government, hold strong foothold in our city. Gambling hells, furnished with tinseled splendor are at every corner, to catch the unwary, and relieve them of their superabundant "Confederates."

Still there is enough of the old metal left, purified and refined, to make Richmond to me the sweetest, dearest spot on earth. General Johnston being wounded, General Robert E. Lee now commands our army.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 116-7

Diary of Private William S. White, June 15, 1862

Day after day have we been anxiously awaiting an engagement; our leaders seem to be afraid of risking a battle, and our men are worn down with continued anxiety. Hundreds and thousands of our men are sick from want of proper food, and there seems to be but little chance for improvement. Was taken quite sick myself to-day, and with my Captain's permission, I went into the city to remain until I got well. Went to Mr. William S. Donnan's, where, for several days, I was quite ill. Had I remained in camp, I doubt very much if I ever would have recovered, but being well nursed, I soon managed to improve.

To Mr. D. and his family, I will always feel deeply grateful for their many and kind attentions.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 117

Diary of Private William S. White, June 24, 1862

Having some information that a great battle was imminent, I concluded to return to camp to-day, though I was far from being well.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 117

Diary of Private William S. White, June 27, 1862

BATTLE OF ELLERSON'S MILL, JUNE 27TH, 1862.

For several days we have been on the qui vive for a fight, and at last it has come. Day before yesterday my company was transferred from Huger's division, to which it was temporarily attached, to the First Regiment Virginia Artillery, commanded by Colonel John Thompson Brown, and we now belong to Longstreet's division. We had just gotten our tents pitched, picket rope stretched, etc., when we were ordered to report to Brigadier-General Featherstone, commanding a splendid brigade of Mississippians. We reached this brigade on the evening of the 25th, pitched our tents and camped for the night. At 10 o'clock we were ordered to rise at 2 A. M., prepare three days' rations, allowing each man one blanket, and report to General Longstreet near the toll-house on the Mechanicsville Turnpike. According to instructions we arose next morning at 2 o'clock, but as we had no rations had to start without them. We remained on the turnpike all day awaiting orders to move. A. P. Hill's division, having crossed the Chickahominy near the Virginia Central Railroad, flanked the enemy and charged upon them at Mechanicsville, driving them across Beaver Dam Creek to Ellerson's Mill. Our division (Longstreet's), with D. H. Hill's, then moved directly up the Mechanicsville Turnpike and formed a junction with A. P. Hill at the village of Mechanicsville, five and a half miles from Richmond. The fighting for the night was over, but sleep was impossible, for well we knew the coming morrow would be a day fraught with heavy interests to the South. Jackson, we also knew, was on his way to join us, and was moving around to strike the enemy's right flank, taking it en reverse. About 12 o'clock at night my brigade (Featherstone's) was ordered to the front to relieve General Ripley's, and my company ordered to remain in the road at the blacksmith's shop, awaiting "further orders."

The dawn of the 27th of June was announced by a shell from a Yankee battery, and pretty soon they made the turnpike a very hot place.

Featherstone and Willcox, supported by R. A. Pryor, were already engaged. Our battery was then ordered to take position where we could shell the enemy. To accomplish this we had to move about a mile across an open field and in point blank range of the Yankee batteries. Gallantly did our boys dash across the field and in the very face of the enemy; loudly screamed the shot and shell; but on we pushed until we reached our position directly in front of the Catlin House. Our guns were speedily "unlimbered," and soon the clear, ringing report of the little howitzers bespoke the earnestness of the affair we were engaged in.

Our Parrot gun and howitzer No. 2 were stationed to the rear of the Catlin House, whilst the third and fourth (my gun) were directly in front.

The enemy's artillery soon ceased, for it was very evident that having been struck such a heavy blow on this, their extreme right flank, by Hill on the preceding day, that McClellan was drawing in his lines, and we were now fighting only a heavy rear guard commanded by Fitz John Porter.

Nevertheless their sharp-shooters were swarming like bees on the opposite hills, across the Beaver Dam, and they made it uncomfortably warm where we were strange to say none of my company were hurt.

Pryor's, Wilcox's and Featherstone's brigades were fighting heavily on our right and their loss was quite severe, the enemy being strongly posted.

Our artillery was composed of the "Maryland Artillery," "Donaldsonville (Louisiana) Artillery, "Thomas Artillery" and the "Third Company Richmond Howitzers." Our guns were worked with coolness and precision. The Yankee skirmishers, being posted in rifle-pits, and many of them securely stationed up tall pine trees, had many advantages over our men, we fighting in the open field all the time. For several hours did we pour a galling fire into the enemy and they replied with great spirit. About 8 A. M. our batteries were ordered to "cease firing," and "Gregg's brigade," A. P. Hill's division, charged the works in our front, meeting with but little opposition, as the enemy rapidly retired before them. The remainder of A. P. Hill's division was moving against the enemy's right flank, hoping to get in the rear of Fitz. John Porter and capture his entire force, but he, seeing Hill's intention, rapidly decamped.

An incident, proving the money loving nature of the genuine Yankee, occurred at this place, and I cannot refrain from relating it. One of our boys, in conversation with one of the wounded prisoners who had both eyes shot entirely out, remarked to him that "his wound must be very painful?"

The Yankee replied: "I don't mind the pain so much, sir, but I wouldn't have both of my eyes shot out for twenty-five dollars!" Umph! What a people-eyes twelve and a half dollars each.

This Catlin House was built by my grandfather, and sadly sweet is the recollection to me that for three hours, to-day, I fought within a few short yards of my father's grave. Yes! here where we fought to-day is the very spot where he was born, more than a half century ago, and hard by is the grave where he now lies buried. Oh! who can wonder that my arm was strengthened, and my heart nerved for the conflict. The balls flew thick and fast around me, but I heeded them not, and thought only of the sacred dead, whose grave had been desecrated and his slumbers disturbed by the foeman's shout and the wild, loud, crash of battle!

BATTLE OF GAINES'S MILL, FRIDAY, JUNE 27TH, 1862.

The Federals were driven back through Austin's, Sydnor's, Hogan's and Gaines's farms, slightly skirmishing as they rapidly retreated before our successful forces. They made a final stand about a mile from Dr. Gaines's residence. Pryor's brigade was in the advance, and was acting as skirmishers—the Donaldsonville Artillery was attached to this brigade. The remainder of Longstreet's division was stationed in a thick wood near Dr. Gaines's house, and was evidently waiting for the music of Jackson's guns. We knew Jackson was close at hand, for this morning, on following up the enemy from Ellerson's Mill, we took the wrong road at Meadow Farm (William Sydnor's,) and crossed over into Oakley Hill (Edward Sydnor's) where we ran into Jackson's men, and skirmished with them some time before we found them out. The enemy soon found out our position in this wood and commenced shelling us at a terrific rate. Their guns were well aimed for their shots skim'd above and around us in no very pleasant manner. Being somewhat worried by the delay and wanting to see what was going on, I rode out to the front where Pryor's men were skirmishing; seeing a deserted camp about a half mile off, I rode over to it, hoping to get something for my horse to eat, and just as I was securing a very plump looking bag of oats, a body of our cavalry dashed in at the other end of the camp, and the first thing I knew, one of them was about to shoot me for a Yankee—remembering I had on a Yankee jacket, I cried out lustily, that I was a Confederate soldier, whereupon they rode swiftly on, leaving me to carry off my booty.

Shortly after 3 P. M. the welcome sound of Jackson's guns is heard on our left, and our entire line advances in splendid style, our infantry moving across an open field, subjected to a terrific fire poured into them by the enemy, who were strongly entrenched in earthworks commandingly situated. My company took position on the east side of Dr. Gaines's house and immediately opened fire upon the enemy. Three of our guns, it will be remembered, were twelve-pound Dahlgren navy howitzers, fitted only for very close work, and I presume the chief good we did was to make a noise and draw the fire of the enemy. Our rifled Parrot gun, however, did good service, and was effectually manned during the remainder of the day.

The enemy opened a heavy fire upon us both from the north and south sides of the Chickahominy. We were also under a galling fire from their infantry directly in our front.

Longstreet's division, on our left, charged across the open field in gallant style and up the hill they went as if they meant to stay. Three times were they driven back, but they rapidly reformed and finally drove the Yankees from their almost impregnable position, slaying them by thousands. The shot and shell from the Yankee batteries would strike in our battery and ricochet farther than our guns would carry. Our little howitzers now being unable to reach the enemy, Colonel John Thompson Brown, Longstreet's chief of artillery, ordered us into a ravine, where we were in a great measure protected. During the engagement our battery was subjected to an enfilading fire from the south side of the Chickahominy, and how we escaped without loss is a mystery to me. Finally darkness brought an end to the bloody scene; the enemy had been completely whipped out of their works. We captured a great number of prisoners, including the Eleventh Pennsylvania Reserve entire; also, some twenty-five or thirty pieces of artillery. We passed through many Yankee camps, and our men obtained a number of articles they were sadly in need of. The enemy, however, destroyed vast quantities of commissary stores and all their camp equipage. The people of Hanover were perfectly overjoyed to see us once more, and as many an old acquaintance and kinsman grasped me warmly by the hand I could but silently offer up my thanks to the Omnipotent for our success. The Yankees have been more lenient to this portion of Virginia than has been their custom, but the parlor walls of some of our Hanover houses bear ample testimony to their obscenity and meanness. Their letters, which we find scattered all over the fields, are also filled with obscene thoughts and vituperations of us of the South. One thing especially I notice in the letters the Yankee soldiers receive from their homes, in nine cases out of ten: the people at home write piteous appeals for money and complain bitterly of the hard times, whilst our soldiers write home, invariably, for money. Many of the Yankee soldiers enter the army because it insures a comfortable support, and they can, if at all provident, put by something every month.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 117-22

Diary of Private William S. White, June 28, 1862

Our battery moved back last night about one mile and camped on Hogan's farm. This morning when we awoke we found a party of eight hundred Yankee prisoners at Hogan's house. Amongst them were several surgeons, and they actually refused to attend to their own wounded, but insisted, as surgeons were non-combatants, that they should be sent to Richmond and immediately returned to the North.

A great number of wounded Yankees have been brought in by our men, and are receiving all proper attention. We moved forward to Gaines's house, where we remained all day, but near us there was no more fighting.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 122

Diary of Private William S. White, June 29, 1862

Longstreet's and A. P. Hill's divisions crossed to the south side of the Chickahominy to-day, and have moved eastward down the Darbytown Road. These divisions have not been engaged to-day.

This afternoon I was sent back to Featherstone's Brigade Headquarters, near the city, for a farther supply of rations, as ours were left on the north side of the Chickahominy.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 122

Diary of Private William S. White, June 30, 1862

BATTLE OF WILLIS'S CHURCH, OR FRAYSER'S FARM, MONDAY, JUNE 30TH, 1862.

I was in the saddle from a little after sunrise yesterday morning until daybreak this morning, and then, after taking a nap of an hour, had to move on to find my company. McClellan, having been so terribly punished on his right flank by the fierce onslaughts of Lee and Jackson, has now concentrated his forces on this (the south) side of the Chickahominy, and is making his way to his gun-boats on the James River. We are following him up as rapidly as possible. Our two divisions moved a few miles farther down the Darbytown Road, when our advanced guard captured a Yankee picket, who reported their men to be but a short distance in advance.

Longstreet quickly disposed his troops, and advanced to meet the enemy; my battery was posted in an open field, but we could see no enemy, as a heavy wood was between us.

The enemy soon rained a storm of shot and shell upon us, and we returned the fire with vigor, but as soon as our infantry charged beyond us, as at Gaines's Mill, we were compelled to cease firing," our guns being of such short range.

Nevertheless, we were compelled to receive their fire, and, being unable to return it, it made our situation anything but pleasant. Nothing is more demoralizing to troops than to be subjected to a heavy fire from an unseen foe and to remain perfectly inactive. The wood completely shut us out from sight, yet shielded us but little from the shot and shell.

Here a member of my company (Edward F. Cullen) was struck upon the forehead by a piece of shell; we thought at first he was seriously wounded, but we were mistaken. I also made a very narrow escape, for a two ounce ball from a Belgian rifle passed through my gunner's-bag, which was, as is customary during an engagement, thrown over my shoulder. I had in this bag about 500 friction primers, each and every one a little miniature cannon of itself, filled with rifle and a poisonous fulminating powder, the explosion of one of which would have caused the explosion of the whole. The ball passed through three thick pleats of leather, breaking the fourth and last pleat. Had it not have been for this leather bag, I would have received this ball just below my heart. The fighting was still going on in our front at a terrific rate. Again and again our men charged the enemies' works, but were as often driven back. At one time Featherstone's brigade had to reform a few yards to the right of our battery, and could only muster 250 men. One more grand effort—a dashing charge and our men have carried the entrenchments. Kemper's men are holding their position without ammunition; Featherstone's brigade has melted away from 1,200 to 200; still our brave troops hold their position, and have captured many a piece of artillery. Night comes on, but still the fight continues—volley after volley of musketry pours its stream of death into our ranks, but our men cannot be driven back, and McClellan has to keep moving on. Our field of observation is so extremely limited, we can learn but little of the general plan of the battle or of the specific results. The wounded stragglers all pass through our battery and tell the same old tale of being "cut up," "badly whipped," etc., so that for a long time we were really in doubt whether we or the Yankees had been successful. The enemy fought bravely and contested the ground inch by inch. Our General, Featherstone, has been badly wounded. We have captured many prisoners and a number of pieces of artillery; also, a Brigadier-General by the name of McCall.

We spent the night on the field, and, for the season, it was bitterly cold.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 122-4

Daniel S. Dickinson to Mr. Rogers, December 25, 1856

BINGHAMTON, December 25, 1856.

MY DEAR ROGERS—Myself and family send to you and to Mrs. Rogers the kindly salutations and wishes of the season, under a deep sense of friendly obligations: and we all join the little boys in transmitting their joyous acknowledgments for your kind remembrance and substantial present. Please drop a line, as early as convenient to you, when you will return, so that I may arrange to be at home.

I am glad you are going to Wheatland, for it is as well due to our friends and to our organization as to Mr. Buchanan himself, that he should be fully, frankly, and temperately posted in our affairs. So far as I have a right to be heard in the premises, it is my desire that the explanation be of a general character, and placed entirely on public grounds. I would under no circumstances have my name pressed upon Mr. Buchanan as one of his cabinet advisers. Nor would I consent to sit as one, unless it was given under circumstances where I was sought, rather than seeking the place, and where the public desired my services. For your own private information, I will assure you that I have no expectation of a cabinet appointment. I have no knowledge nor information on the subject, but intuition teaches me, as I wrote you some time since, and the views then expressed have received confirmation by subsequent reflection. I am by no means sure that it will not be better for those of our friends who desire places, if Mr. Buchanan should pass by the State rather than that he should give me a cabinet appointment. In case of my appointment, if he should deny any further appointment to our wing, it would leave me in an awkward and unpleasant position. But if I am not appointed, he may feel an inclination to look more carefully after my friends. I am proud to note, however, that so far as I have been mentioned, it has generally been for Secretary of State, and no one has placed me below Treasury. The leading papers in Maine, Iowa, &c., &c., have been out pretty strong, but there is much intrigue going on by the jobbers for the places, with a view to the Treasury spoils, and also to 1860.

I do not intend to be pharisaical in profession, but I am, as years increase, more anxious to fill my present sphere of usefulness than to enlarge it:—to execute the mission before me, and train up the little boys that Providence has left to look to me for protection, and to cherish and console, so far as domestic care and quiet can accomplish it, one who is dearer to me still, and bound by more tender ties, and is yet as dependent upon me as a child. These, with others, are individual reasons why change is not desirable except for strong inducements.

Sincerely yours,

D. S. DICKINSON.

SOURCE: John R. Dickinson, Editor, Speeches, Correspondence, Etc., of the Late Daniel S. Dickinson of New York, Vol. 2, pp. 499-500

Daniel S. Dickinson to Mr. W. S. Brown, January 24, 1857

BINGHAMTON, January 24, 1857.

MY DEAR SIR—My best acknowledgments are tendered you for numerous favors conveyed with a generous partiality and friendly devotion. I can only assure you of a high, profound, and sincere appreciation.

I have full confidence in Mr. Buchanan's wisdom, and feel sure he will give us a judicious administration; what will be his "personnel," I have no means of knowing. He is urged, from both interested and factious sources, to go by this State, because of our divisions. It may be wise to pass the State or may not be; but no such question as divisions should control him.

We have some factious men, though since the main body went off, less than one would suppose for the encouragement they have received: but so far as our rank and file are concerned, whether upon men or measures, we have less division than has Virginia, New Hampshire, Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, or Pennsylvania.

Repeating my thanks for your kind courtesy—I am,

Yours sincerely,

D. S. DICKINSON.

W. S. BROWN, Esq.

SOURCE: John R. Dickinson, Editor, Speeches, Correspondence, Etc., of the Late Daniel S. Dickinson of New York, Vol. 2, p. 500

Judge I. T. Bosworth to Daniel S. Dickinson, March 9, 1857

BINGHAMTON, March 1, 1857.

MY DEAR JUDGE—Your favor of the 27th came duly to hand, and, as the merchants say, "contents noted." I penned you my "incomprehensible" note while in the tedious attendance upon rather a beggarly circuit. It is said that when a pun or witticism needs explanation to give it point, it is a sorry manifestation, and I do not see why what our old and departed friend Judge S. was wont to call a "sarcasm" does not fall within the same category. However, at the hazard of coming within the rule, I will translate my Greek.

My eye, at the moment of writing, fell upon the movements of the Corruption Committee at Washington, and seeing that the Hon. ——— was to be expelled, reminded me of how much I had enjoyed, some twenty-three years ago, laughing at you for turning the same individual out of your law office for stealing a large pane of glass out of the door of E——'s newly fitted up house over the Chenango Bridge, to supply one that he had broken out of the door of your office; and to complete the joke he got a light too large by three inches one way and one the other. The fun I had at the time over it all came back to me, and hence my revival of it to you thus obscurely;—not thinking that the brick and mortar, excitement and turmoil, and judicial care of the city, had shut you out from keeping track of individuals, as we do in the country.

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Yes, my dear Judge, I might wear out life as you do. I have enjoyed some rather gratifying triumphs in my day, both political and professional; but never anything has so much drawn out my anxiety and solicitude in advance, has so much mortified and vexed me when adverse, nor afforded me the same satisfaction in success, as the matter to which you allude.

I still like professional pursuits better than official life. If I had money to spend profusely, I could enjoy myself in rural occupations; but eternal, like internal improvement, is too expensive a luxury for a poor man.

I like excitement, and as I also want income, it would work well if we did not have so much mere litigation over subjects where the parties cannot pay very large fees, and, if able, no counsel could have the face to charge them. These cases, as you know, are fought out with a pertinacity almost unknown in the city, or if known, would command a thousand dollars to our one hundred. If you do not engage in them, others will, and hey block up the courts and delay other business at home, and prevent you from going abroad to attend to business of more importance if you have it. The present system is far less pleasant for the country than the former. There is, or rather would be enough good business to engage me constantly if it were not impeded by this profitless litigation, and much time is wasted in this, in working or in waiting, to the prevention of more important business. If I was within four or five hours ride of the city, instead of nine or ten, I would open an office there.

Mrs. Dickinson and daughters join me in regards to yourself and Mrs. Bosworth and family

Sincerely yours,

D. S. DICKINSON.

SOURCE: John R. Dickinson, Editor, Speeches, Correspondence, Etc., of the Late Daniel S. Dickinson of New York, Vol. 2, pp. 500-2