Note: This letter—a document written in 1862—includes terms and topics that may be offensive to many today.  No attempt will be made to censor or edit 19th century material to today’s standards.

Tuscumbia, Ala., August 19, 1862.

Tis the old, old, story, burning railroad bridges, skirmishing between our scouts and theirs, etc. They opened on a new program by firing into a train, two days since, wounding five men only, though they put 200 shots into the engine and cars. They are burning cotton in very good style. Night before last eight fires were visible from our headquarters, and last night four. They destroyed about $300,000 in the two nights. They’re getting scared about their negroes, and are carrying them off to the mountains as fast as possible. The blacks are scrambling in this direction to a very lively tune. Over 100 came in on one road within the last 24 hours. About 50 can be used in a regiment to advantage, but I am thoroughly opposed to receiving any more than we have work for within our lines. You have no idea what a miserable, horrible-looking, degraded set of brutes these plantation hands are. Contempt and disgust only half express one’s feelings toward any man that will prate about the civilizing and christianizing influence of slavery. The most savage, copper savage, cannot be below these field hands in any brute quality. Let them keep their negroes though, for we surely don’t want our Northern States degraded by them, and they can’t do the Southerners any good after we get them driven a few degrees further down. These nigs that come in now, say that their masters were going to put them in the Southern Army as soldiers. I’m sure the Southerners are too smart for that, for a million of them aren’t worth 100 whites. General Paine is gobbling up these secesh here and starting them North kiting. How they are shaking in their boots. Paine is going to clean out the country and make it Union if there is nothing but desert left. There are a number of very fine people here, such men as Jacob H. Bass, highly honorable, conscientious, etc., but strong believers in State sovereignty, and because their State has seceded, they are secessionists, and for no other reason. Paine is going to make them walk the plank with the rest. It looks a little hard to me, as they are willing to be paroled, but I’ll never say stop when anybody is pounding the secesh.


We sailed August 13th from New Orleans, and reached Forts Jackson and St. Philip, where we remained over night, and received a salute for the Admiral. We got under way on the following morning, and proceeded to Pilot Town. We found several fine U. S. ships here, among them the U. S. ship Pampero, with which we slightly collided, doing little damage. We here took in our spare spars and rigging, which we had stripped off on entering the river, and also removed the chain cable from our ship’s side.

On the 16th we left for Ship Island, getting aground on the bar as we went out, and arrived off Ship Island on the same evening. We went into port on the following morning, and found lying here the U. S. frigate Potomac, and U. S. sloop-of-war Richmond. The Rhode Island arrived on the 19th, and we left the same day for Pensacola, via Mobile Bay. On arriving off Mobile we found on the blockade the U. S. frigate Susquehanna, with several gunboats. We received and returned a salute from the Susquehanna, and passed on to Pensacola. We arrived off the place in the evening, and went into the harbor on the following morning, and moored the ship off the Navy Yard.



Headquarters 5th Army Corps, Camp at Newport News, August 19.

Dear Hannah, — I have had no chance to write since my first letter to Father as the army has been in motion since that time. We left Harrison’s Landing on Thursday, 8 P.M., and reached Barrett’s Ford on the Chickahominy, a distance of twenty miles, by 7 o’clock the next morning. We crossed the Chickahominy on the pontoon bridge just constructed, 2000 feet in length, and camped on this side. Saturday at 4 A.M. we started for Williamsburg, about 12 miles distant, and made our headquarters in the President’s house at William and Mary’s College. Williamsburg is an old-fashioned city of 4000 inhabitants, although now mostly deserted. Sunday at 6 P.M. we started for Yorktown, 14 miles off, and from there pushed on to Newport News, 28 miles, reaching here at 8 o’clock yesterday morning. The whole army is now across the Chickahominy and the bridge taken up. I am somewhat tired, but in other respects perfectly well.

Prison life did not leave any bad effects upon me, except the natural one of weakness. I was well all the time, with the exception of some slight eruption, which broke out on my body, probably a mild form of scurvy. My chief annoyance was from the lice. Every morning for over six weeks I looked over my clothes carefully, and as regularly found two or three of the disgusting old fellows, besides any amount of nits and young ones. The building was full of them and whenever any one hammered on the floor above, down came the lice. I have always had a great horror of them, and found them rather hard to bear. All the officers were in the same condition. Our life was the same from one day’s end to another. Our mess (No. 2) took breakfast at 7.30. We had sour bread, coffee made from rye and bought (75 cts. lb.) by ourselves. Then we would read or play cards or go to sleep during the forenoon until 1 o’clock, when we dined on bread and greasy soup. The afternoon was spent in much the same way as the morning. Supper we took at 6, and at 9 went to bed.

I don’t want Father to send my horse on. I shall buy one on here. As soon as I can get a chance I shall have my things sent on to me, but at present I don’t know where to have them sent to. I think we shall go to Aquia Creek. We probably go on board to-night.

I have not heard from home yet and do not know why letters do not come. I hope you are all well. I was very anxious while in prison until I heard from the general that Father was well and relieved of all anxiety about me. . . .


August 19 —Last night just as we were getting into sleep deep enough to feel good, that confounded old bugle bleated out for us to get up and get ready to march at eleven o’clock. Soon afterwards found us on the march through pitchy darkness, stumbling slowly down the Fredericksburg road. We marched till four o’clock this morning, halted about two hours, countermarched, and went back again over the same road, picketing within one mile of Orange Court House. We remained there until two o’clock this afternoon, then moved back again to where we halted this morning, which is thirteen miles east of Orange Court House. This seems to be see-saw day in the marching business. We did not halt there more than about fifteen minutes, then marched on toward Fredericksburg. We followed the main road about five miles, then turned off to the left and moved about four miles in a northerly course. We marched until two hours after dark.

The road we passed over this morning is hilly and rough and creeps snake-like through a dense pine thicket. The Lord only knows where we are camped to-night — I don’t — but I believe we are somewhere in the northeastern part of Orange County. This morning at daylight the First Regiment of Virginia Cavalry passed us. It is General J. E. B. Stuart’s old regiment. This morning was the first time I saw it.


August 19th.

Yesterday, two Colonels, Shields and Breaux, both of whom distinguished themselves in the battle of Baton Rouge, dined here. Their personal appearance was by no means calculated to fill me with awe, or even to give one an idea of their rank; for their dress consisted of merely cottonade pants, flannel shirts, and extremely short jackets (which, however, is rapidly becoming the uniform of the Confederate States).

• • • • • • • • • • •

Just three lines back, three soldiers came in to ask for molasses. I was alone downstairs, and the nervous trepidation with which I received the dirty, coarsely clad strangers, who, however, looked as though they might be gentlemen, has raised a laugh against me from the others who looked down from a place of safety. I don’t know what I did that was out of the way. I felt odd receiving them as though it was my home, and having to answer their questions about buying, by means of acting as telegraph between them and Mrs. Carter. I confess to that. But I know I talked reasonably about the other subjects. Playing hostess in a strange house! Of course, it was uncomfortable! and to add to my embarrassment, the handsomest one offered to pay for the milk he had just drunk! Fancy my feelings, as I hastened to assure him that General Carter never received money for such things, and from a soldier, besides, it was not to be thought of! He turned to the other, saying, “In Mississippi we don’t meet with such people! Miss, they don’t hesitate to charge four bits a canteen for milk. They take all they can. They are not like you Louisianians.” I was surprised to hear him say it of his own State, but told him we thought here we could not do enough for them.


19th.—Moved at 7 this morning. Marched to-day over much of the same ground which we travelled over on our way to Richmond. But strange! There was scarcely a spot which I could recognize. Heretofore my memory of places has been almost wonderful. Why could I not now recognize? Has age impaired my memory, or was my mind at the time of passing so occupied with weightier matters that ordinary scenes and circumstances made no impression!

At 12 M. to-day we reached Yorktown. How wonderfully our minds deceive us in estimates of places and things associated with great events! Whoever heard of Yorktown, that city on the banks of the noble York River, on the sacred soil of the great State of Virginia? The famous city where Lord Cornwallis took his stand to crush out the American rebellion—the city in which was fought the last great battle for American independence—the mother of a nation, and which lives to have witnessed the growth of that nation through youth to maturity, from the feeble efforts of infancy to the power of a giant, and still lives to look on her offspring: sent by the convulsive struggles of its own strength, perhaps to final dissolution. I ask what mind can contemplate a city associated with all these events and recollections, without being possessed of ideas of its vastness and its splendor? But what the reality? Yorktown is a little dilapidated old village, which never contained a population of over 200 or 300, and at the commencement of this war not over 150. When I look on its insignificance, or rather on its significant littleness, I find it difficult not to detract from the ideas of greatness, associated with the great men who figured there. How wonderfully have the great advantages which nature has lavished on this State been prostituted to the one great idea of maintaining her peculiar institution, which she has nursed and defended against the approaches of the world, as she would protect and encourage the whims and weakness of a sickly girl.[1]

A circumstance occurred to-day so painful that I should like to forget it, yet so suggestive of the trials of this army and of the discouragements which has occasioned much of their indifference to events, that I feel it a duty to record it, that it may not be forgotten. On the late retreat from Richmond, most of the men found it necessary to throw away everything which impeded their progress, even their canteens. During our stay at Harrison’s Point they had not been fully replaced. This morning we started early. The day has been intensely hot, the dust almost insufferable. Gen. H—— was in command of his brigade. We had made a rapid march of about ten miles. The men were fatigued, foot-sore and thirsty. In many instances, two or three having to depend on one canteen, it was soon emptied, and when we stopped to rest after the ten mile march, we were in sight of a large spring of beautiful cold water. But the General ordered that not a man should leave the ranks to fill his canteen. It was hard to bear, but the men submitted in patience till they saw the soldiers from other brigades passing from the spring with their canteens filled. This was too much, and they commenced crying out “Water, water.” Immediately the General dashed amongst them, proclaiming “mutiny,” and demanding the offenders. Of course no one could tell who they were. He then turned upon the Regimental and Company officers, “damned them to hell,” and spent some time in consigning the soldiers to the same comfortable quarters. After he had got them all labeled for that kingdom, he told them that their officers were “not worth a G—d d—n,” and having exhausted his vocabulary of gentlemanly expletives, calculated to encourage subordination, he called the men into line and put them through the evolutions of a brigade drill for about half an hour, and thus were they rested to resume the march. These men—this remnant of a fine army, who had been dragged through the putrid swamps of the Chickahominy till they were more like ghosts than men, were thus rested, thus drilled, thus marched, thus abused. Surely the end is not yet.

[1] I think that all the towns on this noble river, from its source to its mouth, will not amount in the aggregate to a population of 2,000 souls! And the same may be said of the James River, from Richmond to its outlet; and yet these rivers pass through one of the finest agricultural regions in the world. There is not a spot of earth, the wheat from which can compete in market with that of the James River.


Headquarters Stevens’s Div.
9th Army Corps,

Fredericksburg, Aug. 19th, 1862.

My dearest Mother:

Here we are, occupying a fine house in the pleasant town of Fredericksburg, with the thermometer standing ever so high in the shade among a people whose glances are at zero in the hottest of this summer sunshine. I have seen nothing like this before, except in the single City of Venice., where the feeling is so intense toward the German soldiery. Yet it is not strange when one thinks that there are few left beside women. The men are away fighting in the pride of sons of the Old Dominion, and many a family here is clad in sombre colors for the loss of dear friends who have lost their lives at the hands of “Yankee Invaders.” So a military occupation of a disaffected town is less pleasant than the tented field. We will not remain a great while, though. We are now on the eve of great events. God only knows what the morrow has in store for us. I cannot say where I may be when I next write, but continue to direct to Stevens’ Division, 9th Army Corps, and the letters will reach me. I am sick at heart in some respects, and utterly weary of the miserable cant and whining of our Northern press. It is time that we assumed a manlier tone. We have heard enough of rebel atrocities, masked batteries, guerillas, and other lying humbugs. Pope’s orders are the last unabatable nuisance. Are we alone virtuous, and the enemy demons? Let us look at these highly praised orders of Pope which are to strike a death-blow at rebellion. We are henceforth to live on the enemy’s country, and to this, as a stern military necessity, I say “Amen!” But, mother, do you know what the much applauded practice means? It means to take the little ewe-lamb — the only property of the laborer — it means to force from the widow the cow which is her only source of sustenance. It means that the poor, and the weak, and the helpless are at the mercy of the strong — and God help them! This I say is bad enough, but when papers like the _____, with devilish pertinacity, talk of ill-judged lenity to rebels and call for vigorous measures, it makes every feeling revolt. We want vigorous measures badly enough to save us in these evil times, but not the measures the _____ urges. The last thing needed in our army is the relaxing of the bands of discipline. And yet our Press is urging our soldiers everywhere to help themselves to rebel property, and, instead of making our army a glorious means of maintaining liberty, would dissolve it into a wretched band of marauders, murderers, and thieves. If property is to be taken, let the Government take it. That is well — but I would have the man shot who would without authority steal so much as a fence rail, though it were to make the fire to cook his food. I would have no Blenkers and Sigels with their thieving hordes, but a great invincible army like Cromwell’s, trusting in God and marching on to victory.

Well, Mother, it is late. I am thankful we are under a commander who is a noble, high-minded, chivalrous man. Honor to Burnside! He is as generous as he is brave! Honor to my own dear commander, too, who has a heart to pity as well as the nerve to strike.

Kisses and love in liberal doses, prescribed in liberal doses to his absent loving friends,

By your most Affec.

Dr. Lusk.


On Steamer Monitor, Kanawha River,
August 18, [1862]. Evening.

Dear Wife : — I am four hard days’ marching, and a few hours’ travel on a swift steamer nearer to you than I was when I last wrote you, and yet I am not on my way home. You will see in the newspapers, I suppose, that General Cox’s Division (the greater part of it) is going to eastern Virginia. We left our camps Friday, the 15th, making long and rapid marches from the mountains to the head of navigation on this river. We now go down to the Ohio, then up to Parkersburg, and thence by railroad eastwardly to the scene of operations. My new regiment fills slowly, I think, and it may be longer than I anticipated before I shall be called for at Cincinnati, if at all. There is talk of an order that will prevent my going to the new regiment, but I think it is not correctly understood, and the chance, it seems to me, is that I shall go home notwithstanding this change of plan.

Our men are delighted with the change. They cheer and laugh, the band plays, and it is a real frolic. During the hot dusty marching, the idea that we were leaving the mountains of west Virginia kept them in good heart.

You will hereafter direct letters to me “General Cox’s Division, Army of Virginia.”

August 19. Evening. Same steamer on the Ohio River. —

Dearest : — We have had a particularly jolly day. The river is very low, and at many of the bars and shoals we are compelled to disembark and march the troops around. In this way we have marched through some villages, and fine farming neighborhoods in Meigs County. The men, women, and children turned out with apples, peaches, pies, melons, pickles (Joe took to them), etc., etc., etc., in the greatest profusion. The drums and fifes and band all piped their best. The men behaved like gentlemen and marched beautifully. Wasn’t I proud of them? How happy they were! They would say, “This is God’s country.” So near you and marching away from you! That was the only sad point in it for me. Only one man drunk so far; his captain put him under arrest. He insisted on an appeal to me, and on my saying, “It’s all right,” he was sober enough to submit, saying, “Well, if the colonel says it’s right, it must be right,” so he made no trouble.

I shall write daily until we get to Parkersburg — that is on the line of railroad to Chillicothe, I believe. No more tonight.

[R. B. Hayes.]

Mrs. Hayes.


19th. Tuesday. Breakfasted at Johnstown. As usual boys went for chickens, corn and anything to eat. People have felt our march through their country. Report came that the enemy were at Osceola, 30 miles southeast. Continued our march Osceolaward. Stopped two or three miles from Johnstown and fed mules and ourselves—three hours. Moved on. Report came that Cloud’s advance was fighting with rear guard of the enemy. One man killed on the prairie, just buried. Changed our course towards Stubbleville. Reached that place in the morning, sunrise. In the afternoon my horse troubled me so getting away that I got on bareback. Got a saddle and rode all night. Very sleepy. Slept on my horse. Major Miner fell from his horse. Pat Collopy fell twice. It was almost impossible for the rear guard to get the sleeping ones awake and along.


August 19th. By 7 A. M. we were in, line, tents struck, wagons loaded, and commenced the march in first-class condition. The country improves the further we go, and to-day’s eight miles march was through a paradise, compared to the region of Manassas and the Chickahominy. Went into bivouac early in the afternoon and remained all night. There are plenty of excellent springs about this country, in addition to numerous other good things, and the campaigning reminds me all the time of Charles O’Malley’s experience in the Spanish peninsula.


August 19.—The steamer Swallow was burned by the rebels, at a point on the Mississippi River, twenty-five miles below Memphis, Tenn.—A skirmish took place near Rienzi, Miss.

— The following order was issued from the War Department at Washington:

The Department of the Ohio, hereby created, will be composed of the States of Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, and Kentucky, East of the Tennessee River, and including Cumberland Gap, and the troops operating in its vicinity. Major-General H. G. Wright is assigned to the command of the Department of Ohio.

— A large and enthusiastic war meeting was held in Brooklyn, N. Y. A series of patriotic resolutions were adopted, and speeches made by Generals Crooke, Walbridge, Sickles and Spinola, Admiral Paulding, Rev. Dr. Cox, and others.

—A force of Union cavalry from New-Madrid, Mo., under the command of Captain Frank Moore, while on an expedition to Charleston, attacked a rebel camp on White Oak Ridge, near Hickman, killing four and taking nineteen of the rebels prisoners, including three captains. They also captured twenty-seven horses and about one hundred stand of arms. Captain Moore and one private were wounded.

— The Board of Supervisors of Rensselaer County, N. Y., assembled at Troy, appropriated seventy-five thousand dollars as bounty money, to be paid to volunteers enlisting into the army under the call of the President.

— The Sioux Indians destroyed the United States Agencies at Yellow Medicine and Red Wood, and partially destroyed New-Ulm, Minn., killing and brutally mutilating more than a hundred persons, men, women, and children.


August 18 — Last night we had our blankets to sleep under again, which was the first time since the night of the 7th. To-day we moved a mile southeast from town, to cook three days’ rations. This evening Captain Chew paraded the company and issued haversacks, in which we were ordered to put three days’ rations immediately, and were also ordered to load all our household effects on our wagons, so that if an alarm or order should break in on us during the night we could be ready to march in thirty minutes.


August 18, Monday. Had a call to-day from an old schoolmate at Cheshire, now a chaplain in the army, Joseph H. Nichols. Invited and had him to tea with me and talked over school-boy days. It is thirty-five years or over since we have met, though not unfrequently in the same place.

Sent Commodore Wilkes a dispatch to hold his ground and await events. Will send him specific orders when developments justify. He is a troublesome officer in many respects, unpopular in the Navy and never on good terms with the Department, yet I have thus far got along with him very well, though in constant apprehension that he will commit some rash act. He is ambitious, self-conceited, and self-willed. The withdrawal of the army from before Richmond disconcerts him, and to make his mark he may do some indiscreet, rash, and indefensible act. But I trust not. He has abilities but not sound judgment, and is not always subordinate, though he is himself severe and exacting towards his subordinates.

Had a letter from Fox at Portsmouth. Says there are traitors even there. It will be necessary that the Government should be felt as a power before this Rebellion can be suppressed. The armored boats, to which he was to give some attention, are progressing as well as can be expected. . . .


18th.—Left camp this morning at 6 o’clock, on the Williamsburg road, and at 12 to 1, passed in retreat over the scenes of our first hard fight, where my regiment, by its firm and unyielding bravery, won the promise that it “should have Williamsburg inscribed on its banner;” a promise richly merited but never fulfilled.

When passing through Williamsburg I, in company with Surgeon Frank H. Hamilton, stepped aside to take a stroll through the halls and rooms of old William and Mary, the oldest college, I believe, except Yale, on this continent. There still stood the students’ desks and seats, at which Virgil and Ovid and Horace had kindled whatever spark they possessed of poetic fire, and Livy had evoked many a curse at his dry detail. There were the black-boards on which the mysteries of Euclid were solved into the unwavering language of distance and of measure, and there was the old chapel, with the benches still in situ, from which for more than a century, hopeful youths had sat and listened to prayers for their usefulness and prosperity, whilst they laid plans of mischief against the supplicators for their good. But the places of the Professors were now filled with the inevitable Commissary and his aids, with their barrels and their boxes, whilst the benches of the students were crowded with clamors for their bacon, beef and beans. I mused for awhile over thoughts of the learned men who had passed forever from these ancient halls, and of the influences they have left behind them.


“Their heads may sodden in the sun,
Their limbs be strung to city gates and walls;
But still their spirits walk Abroad.”


They certainly do not walk here. The sight would be too painful for sensitive and sensible spirits to bear. But these thoughts were dissipated as I looked again on the places where for the first time any number of our regiment had met death on the battle field, and on which it won laurels which shall be green forever!

At 2 o’clock we encamped on the east bank of King’s Creek, a small stream about three miles from Williamsburg, on the banks of which repose the bodies of thousands of the Federal army—of those brave men, who, flushed with hope and patriotic enthusiasm, rushed boldly to the contest, and were permitted to be swept away by hundreds, unsupported by commanders, who, with their hosts unengaged, stood calmly watching the slaughter.


Monday, 18th—We are having some very hot weather. Since coming to Bolivar, each man is permitted to cook his rations in his own way, and so every man has a frying pan of some sort, and a tin peach can in which to boil his coffee. One man in our company, “Long John,” as the boys have nicknamed him, is a great coffee drinker. He carries a two-quart peach can strapped to his haversack, and every day buys up one or two rations of coffee from the boys who do not use much.


18th. Monday. After the moon rose, so that the teams could pick their way, we started on. Moved back on the same road we went up. Col. Cloud and Warren’s forces took another route and went faster than we. Passed through “Index” and “Rose Hill” and stopped after passing the big mill. Awful place for baggage to cross. Got a little supper. Hard bread and coffee, then moved on— the dismounted men and infantry on foot. The report came in that Cloud met the enemy at Johnstown—so Blunt hastened. Mules and horses tired out. As we marched boys would fall asleep, walk on and frequently tumble down. Major Burnett said he rode the whole length of train and every mule driver but two were asleep—most in their wagons. Train moved on well.


1862 August Bull Run, Va. New bridge built by McDowell's engineers

Bull Run, Va. New bridge built by McDowell’s engineers; photographer’s wagon at left.

Library of Congress image.

Photo taken by Timothy H. O’Sullivan, August, 1862.


O’Sullivan appears to have included himself in some of his photos.  I remembered having seen this particular wagon in another image recently, which turned out to have been taken in the Manassas area on July 4.

Our photographer at Manassas - Timothy H. O’Sullivan

Our photographer at Manassas.

Library of Congress image.

Photo taken by Timothy H. O’Sullivan, July 4, 1862.


O’Sullivan also appears to have included himself in 2 other images that have already been published here:

Locomotive on the Orange & Alexandria Railroad in Virginia – in foreground with back to camera, dressed the same as in the top image.

Federal battery fording a tributary of the Rappahannock – on right side of image next to the same wagon as is in the above two images.


August 18th. Reveille at daylight. Immediately after breakfast the troops received several days’ rations, and at 7 A. M. marched out of bivouac, going only four miles, and then for some reason not stated, pitched tents upon a splendid plantation and remained until the next morning. Poultry, fruits, and vegetables were in abundance, and we not only enjoyed a superb rest, but the best of catering. A spread at Delmonico’s could not surpass the dainties of the Fifty-seventh’s mess on this pleasant route. The country is delightful, and riding at the head of one’s regiment in company with so many good fellows, day after day, is simply glorious; a most agreeable change from camp life.


August 18.—The following orders were issued from the War Department at Washington: “Hereafter no appointments of Majors-General or Brigadiers-General will be given except to officers of the regular army, for meritorious and distinguished services during the war, or to volunteer officers who, by some successful achievement in the field, shall have displayed the military abilities required for the duties of a general officer.

“No appointment to such grades will be issued by the War Department till an examination is made to ascertain if there are any charges or evidence against the character, conduct or fitness of the appointee, and if there should be any such charges or evidence a special report will be made to the President.”

— The One Hundred and Twenty-fifth and the One Hundred and Twenty-seventh regiments of Pennsylvania arrived at Washington, D. C.

— The National pickets were fired on at Romney Road, Va., and one man mortally wounded. A force sent in pursuit overtook a party of bushwhackers near North River Mills, attacked them, and killed the notorious guerrilla, Bob Edwards. The rest escaped to the mountains. — Colonel Michael Corcoran, of the Sixty-ninth New-York militia, was appointed a Brigadier-General in the volunteer service of the United States.

— The Congress of the rebel States reassembled at Richmond, Va., when Jeff Davis delivered his annual message, addressed “to the Senate and House of Representatives of the confederate States.”—See Supplement.

— The steamers Skylark and Sallie were burned by guerrillas, at the mouth of Duck Creek, fifty miles above Fort Henry, Tenn. The Skylark was heavily laden with government stores. She got aground and an officer unloaded a portion of her stores when he was attacked by thirty rebels. The crew, being unarmed, were compelled to surrender. The guerrillas, after removing the furniture and silver ware, set fire to both the boats. The crews were released on parole.

— The rebel Colonel John H. Morgan, issued a proclamation from Hartsville, Tenn., in which he said that in consequence of the Federal Government causing his friends to pay for property destroyed by him, he would thenceforth put the law of retaliation in full force, and act upon it with vigor. For every dollar exacted from his Southern fellow-citizens, he would have two from men of known Union sentiments, and would make their persons and property responsible for the payment

— Clarksville, Tenn., garrisoned by a small number of Union troops, under command of Col. Mason, was this day surrendered to Col. Woodward and a superior force of rebel guerrilla troops, without firing a shot.—(Doc. 186.)

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