4th. Sunday. In the morning went with Archie to the river, saw some very pretty scenery, high bluffs, a cave, and fine foliage. Wrote home.

May 4.

Mr. Olmsted decided to do it, and the “D. W.” sailed with 190 sick from the deserted camps within a range of some miles–eighteen, the poor fellows say who were jolted down to the shore over corduroy roads. The loads began arriving at 5.30 this morning, and we refitted the state-rooms which had been made up twice already, all along of the men nurses turning in and rioting in boots in the nice clean beds. No objection to the “relief-watch” lying down gently on the outside of the beds, but why should they pull out the under-quilts and pin them up for state-room doors? E. and I discovered all sorts of candle ends tucked away or stuck in cakes of soap, with every facility for setting the ship on fire–also the work of the men nurses.

Mrs. Griffin and Mrs. Lane were, meantime, in the pantry getting breakfast for the sick.

8 Brevoort Place, 4 May
(letter continued from previous day).

Sunday.–A day of great events. At 1 P. M., Cousin William came in to tell us he had seen a man who had seen a man (literal) who had read McClellan’s telegram to his wife, announcing the evacuation of Yorktown. The man, once removed, was Barlow, and Mr. A. considered it perfectly reliable. At two the extras were out in a swarm, and Colonel Betts and one or two others came in most kindly, bringing papers and congratulations. It is a blessed respite in our anxiety about you, for we were afraid of a severe battle if there had been any battle at all. It is good news for all who have friends in the army. . . . It becomes us at any rate now to thank God and take courage and draw a much longer breath than we’ve drawn for a month.

Off Ship Point.

It was the Wilson Small (a little steamboat chartered by the Commission to run up the creeks and bring down sick and wounded), that came alongside with our first patients, thirty-five in number, typhoid cases, from Ship Point, who were slung through the hatches on their stretchers. . . . We women arranged our days into three watches, and then a promiscuous one for any of us, as the night work might demand.

After breakfast, Sunday, on the Webster, we all assembled in the forward ward, and Dr. Grymes read the simple prayers for those at sea and the sick. Our poor fellows lay all about us in their beds and listened quietly. As the prayer for the dying was finished, a soldier close by the doctor had ended his strife.

We crawled up into our bunks that night amid a tremendous firing of big guns, and woke up in the morning to the announcement that Yorktown was evacuated! Franklin was in McClellan’s tent when the news came, and he says McClellan did not know what to make of it.

A little tug has just passed, calling out to each transport to be ready to move in ten minutes if the order is given; probably to go round to Yorktown, and be ready to push up the river in case our men advance. A tug from Baltimore came alongside just now with contrabands and workmen for the “Ocean Queen,” which the Commission has secured, and E. and I will probably go over to her this evening.

New York, Sunday P. M.

My Dear Girls: I have an unexpected opportunity of writing, or rather of getting my letter to you. Dr. Gurden Buck was telegraphed this morning, through the Sanitary Commission, to leave for Yorktown on board the “Ocean Queen,” and he is off for Baltimore at 5 o’clock this P. M., to take ship there. In the meantime just as we came in from church, a telegram arrived from you, dear E., to Charley, asking if he would like the “Clerkship” of the “Daniel Webster,” and if so to come on. . . . Charley accepts the clerkship, and will be ready when the “Daniel Webster” comes here. Right upon the top of this excitement of a telegram from Yorktown to us! comes another to Mrs. McClellan at the 5th Avenue Hotel, telling her that Yorktown has been evacuated by the rebels, leaving all their large guns, and much else besides! The newsboys are out already with their extras, and the Aspinwalls are at the door wishing to know why we don’t unfurl our flag! which is all rolled up round the stick. Cousin William has been in to tell us of the news direct from Mrs. McClellan, and the whole city is at once commencing its rejoicings. How eagerly we shall look for your account, and how anxious to know what your movements will be. Why are they telegraphing for so many surgeons from here, and Philadelphia, and other towns, when there has been no battle, as we understand? I suppose the army is to push on after the retreating rebels. . . . I wish I were down there with you, and have a great mind to offer my services to Dr. Buck as head nurse or matron of the “Daniel Webster.” . . . Jane has gone off with her Sunday treat to the hospital, of jelly and oranges; Abby and Carry have gone to church again, and Charley is out making enquiry about the boats and trying to find out whether the “Daniel Webster” is expected here, and when.

Your things are all ready to go by him, and we have offered Dr. Buck any stores he may wish. We have piles of elegantly rolled bandages which he may be glad to have.

May 4th.–Sun-rise brought us the intelligence that during the night the enemy had evacuated Yorktown, and their Warwick Creek fortifications. Now for a chase. Immediately started–whole army in pursuit–and on overtaking the rear guard had considerable fighting through the day, in which, though we get reports of our victories, I am inclined to the opinion that we came off “second best.” We have had a very hard march, many of the men being compelled to fall out. But we have Yorktown, without a fight. As the telegraph speeds this over the country, what relief it will bring to thousands of anxious, aching hearts! If the relieved feelings of anxious fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, friends, lovers, could be told on paper and started to the loved ones so long exposed to danger here, what a burden of mail matter our good uncle Samuel would have on his shoulders!

A few incidents of the chase are worth remembering. Our cavalry started at a dash past the nearest abandoned fort, but suddenly under their feet burst a shell in the road, killing two horses and one rider. The savages had planted the shell in the road, and when struck by the horse’s foot it exploded. There was an immediate halt, the road was examined, quite a number of shells exhumed, and the chase resumed. The infantry, after bridging the creek near Lee’s Mill, pushed forward. A march of three miles brought us to the handsome new brick mansion of Captain Dick Lee, nephew to the General, and a large property holder here. I did not withstand the temptation to leave the ranks and take a look at the house. Our Vandals had been there, and all was chaos; furniture broken to pieces, books and papers scattered to the winds. At a short distance from this new building, into which the family had but lately moved, stood an old, weatherbeaten, moss-covered wooden building, till recently their residence. I there found one relic which even Vandalism had respected–the leaf of a diary dated “May 3rd, 1862.” “Oh, my dear, dear home, the home of my childhood–my life! Oh the old time-beaten, moss-covered house where my eyes first saw the light, and my tongue was taught to lisp its first prayer; how I have watched your decay, and my proud heart has been ashamed of your age. My own wicked spirit is now humbled, and I come to you to-day where my first prayer was uttered, to offer up the last in the home of my former happiness. Farewell, dear home, forever.” This was written in a lady’s hand. So the people here were happy once; but I suppose they did not know it, else why this wanton, wicked war, carrying misery into so many homes? Captain Dick Lee and all his family had left. Capt. Lee was only an hour ahead of us, and is, I hear, a prisoner to-night. His family were in Williamsburg yesterday. To-day they are doubtless flying in a pitiless storm before a pursuing army, homeless and houseless. Oh, Capt. Lee, think of that happy family one year ago, and now! We had two running fights, in one we were repulsed; in the other we drove the enemy, killing and wounding many of them. Our loss is stated at 40 to 50 in killed and wounded. But I am learning to put but little reliance on the reported results of a battle. We always exaggerate the loss of the enemy, whilst we lessen our own.

At sun-down we arrived at Mill Quarters, the residence of a Mr. Whittaker, about three miles from Williamsburg, formed Hancock’s Brigade into line of battle, and skirmished till night. Then we laid on our arms in front of the first line of the defences of Williamsburg.

Headquarters 7th Illinois Cavalry Camp,
on Hamburg and Corinth Road,
May 3, 1862.

I arrived here yesterday in safety. Stayed in Peoria the Monday night that I started, and was in Cairo at 9 p.m. Wednesday. Woke up Thursday morning on a boat at Paducah and devoted the day to admiring the Tennessee river. Stopped long enough at Fort Henry to get a good view of its well pummeled walls, and not-much-to-brag-of defences. The line of ditching without the works was the best I have ever seen, but the parapet, excepting that of the Fort proper, wasn’t to be compared to our works at Bird’s Point, which are the most inferior of ours that I have seen. The Tennessee runs through a perfect wilderness. There is not a landing on the river up to this point (Hamburg) that can begin with Copperas Creek, and indeed, although I watched closely, I did not see more than three or four points, that of themselves, showed they were boat landings, and those only by the grass being worn off the bank; and I did not see a warehouse on either bank unless, maybe, one at Savannah, where there are also, say four fine dwellings. At no other point did I see more than three houses, and very rarely, even one. Having heard so much of the richness of Middle Tennessee I cannot help talking so long of what ought to be, to it, what the Illinois river would be to us were we without railroads. I reached Hamburg yesterday afternoon (Friday) and started for my regiment, which I learned was five miles out on the Corinth way. I walked out as fast as I could, [continue reading…]

3d.—It is distressing to see how many persons are leaving Richmond, apprehending that it is in danger; but it will not—I know it will not—fall. It is said that the President does not fear; he will send his family away, because he thinks it is better for men, on whom the country’s weal is so dependent, to be free from private anxiety. General Johnston is falling back from Yorktown, not intending to fight within range of the enemy’s gun-boats. This makes us very anxious about Norfolk.

MAY 3d.—I fear there is something in the rumor that Norfolk and Portsmouth and Yorktown and the Peninsula will be given up. The Secretaries of War and Navy are going down to Norfolk.

Saturday, 3d–We struck our tents and at 7 a. m. started in the direction of Corinth. After marching eight miles we pitched our tents for camp number 4. All of the sick boys have been sent to the hospital set up at camp number 2, which we left a few days ago. General Pope has taken Farmington, out to the left of our army. There was some very heavy cannonading this afternoon.

May 3d. A serious accident occurred this evening, resulting in wounding more than twenty men. The men were heaving up anchor when the ship swung off with the current, bringing up on the cable with such violence as to whirl the men from the bars, breaking the pawls of the capstan, and the bars throwing the men in all directions. The injuries were one dislocated shoulder, one fractured fore-arm, one do. finger, one do. skull, one do. jaw, and many jammed, bruised and bleeding.

3rd. Saturday. Ninth Wisconsin, two companies, came in. Lieutenant-Colonel Orff. Major Purington under arrest for saying that he should obey the order of Curtiss. He went to Lamar. Sent returns for six days’ rations. Played chess with Lt. Nettleton.

Ship Point, May 3, ‘62.

Dear Georgy: The 8th Illinois Cavalry arrived several days ago. They are disembarking today. Cannot the Daniel Webster take the sick off from Ship Point? They will be doing a great service if they can.

8 Brevoort Place, 3d May, Chi Alpha night.

So you three have met again, Georgy, Eliza and the Colonel. . . . It must have been a jolly meeting for you all on the floating Hospital, and Eliza says you showed symptoms of illness immediately on seeing the comfortable beds. But it is rather a perilous position for the girls. It is no longer visiting, but living, in an atmosphere of infection, day and night, typhoid, rubeola, gangrene, and what not. They will be in for anything going, and the service in a crowded transport will make terrible draughts on the sympathies of all concerned. We hear surmises that the Daniel Webster will come round to New York. If so, I sincerely hope the girls will come in her if possible, if it is only for a day. What an excellent thing to have these boats systematically provided, and to have ladies on board. It will go far to humanize the horrid vehicles. Heavy reproaches belong somewhere for the want of foresight and humanity in the government arrangements of the kind. I have seen it. Send your sick men, if you have any, on a Sanitary Commission transport. Fully half the complaints about the Vermonters of Lee’s Mills are strictly correct, and half are half too many for toleration. The men are in comparative paradise now in “our” (!) hands, though one or two will die in consequence of careless treatment,–Government doings. Somebody says of the barbarisms of the Chinese Tae-Pings: “if you want to complete the picture, transfer them to America and prefix the adjective Red.”

We have been having a Chi Alpha (the Clergymen’s Social Club) for Mr. Prentiss, while he was moving. I say “we” although our participation was through the key-hole alone. The last of the mild elderly gentlemen has taken his hat and cane, and the family have rushed down and wildly consumed vast quantities of sandwiches, chicken salad, and the loveliest fried oysters! Don’t you wish you had some? . . .

One of the entertainments, not edible, was a “James Projectile,” weight 58 lbs., brought in the self-sacrificing and gallant hat box of Chas. Johnson, sent by Frank Bacon as a receipt in full, I suppose, for the few little matters we have sent him from time to time,–filled and covered with the red brick dust made by the great breach.[1]

“The slave shouts in the barracoon

As through the breach we thunder!”

But never, Chas. Johnson says, never was there such a disgusted set of men as the Connecticut Seventh, when the white flag went up; they had set their hearts on storming the place, and everything was ready. He went through the casemates with F. B. (Francis Bacon) on his rounds among the patients, his own and those left to his care by Colonel Olmsted, and gave us a very interesting picture of the scene, too long and circumstantial to write out in a letter. He was very much pleased with Dr. Bacon, “so exactly the man for the place,” he said; so utterly cool, so gentle, and so untiring in care and patience. One young fellow they came to, had lost his leg, and the Doctor was trying to soothe him to sleep without an anodyne–“What part of Connecticut are you from?” asked Charles J.; “I’m a Georgian, sir. Yes, sir (kindling up), I fired the last gun from this fort, sir!” “Yes,” said the Doctor quietly, in his mesmeric way, “he stood by his gun till a shot dismounted it and hurt him. But try now to go to sleep, and if you find you cannot, I’ll give you something to help you.” “O, if I could have one drink of milk, Doctor!” “I’ll see; perhaps I can get you a little.” So he gave the candle (in a bottle) to Charles, and was gone for a quarter of an hour, coming back with a little milk in the bottom of a cup, which the young Georgian eagerly swallowed. The story is getting too long–and there were two or three others to match–but what I observe is, that a man of less fine fibre, instead of taking up the talk of the poor Georgian, would have “ improved the occasion” to him.

Did you notice that to-day, in the transactions of the Board of Brokers, when the “Government Sixes touched par,” for the first time since the rebellion, that the brokers were all on their feet in a minute giving three tremendous cheers? . . . Mother seriously announces just here, that two of the tea spoons, used by the clergymen this evening, are missing, and mentions the name of Rev. Dr. _______!

[1]On the newel post at your uncle Frank’s house in New Haven stands this projectile, fired from the battery by which he stood during the attack on Fort Pulaski. It went through the wall, and was taken out of the rubbish inside the fort by him and sent North to your grandmother.

Apropos of your Uncle Frank’s “improving the occasion” at Fort Pulaski–he did improve it in giving the rebel surgeon a merited rebuke. “Good-bye, my poor fellows,” the surgeon had said, “I don’t know what will happen to you now, I shall have to leave you to this gentleman.” “You need not have any apprehensions, sir,” F. B. answered; “these are not the first wounded Georgians I have had to care for;” and then he told him of the wounded rebels he had looked after at the battle of Bull Run. The fellow melted at once and said those men and Colonel Gardner came into his hands directly from F. B.’s, and he had heard of the kindness shown them.

May 2d.—The morning papers contain a most spirited letter by the Mayor of New Orleans, in reply to the Federal commander who demanded the surrender of the city, and that the Confederate flag should be taken down. He refuses to do either, telling him that the city is his by brute force, but he will never surrender it.

Our young friend, J. S. M., is here, very ill; I am assisting to nurse him. I feel most anxious about him; he and his four brothers are nobly defending their country. They have strong motives, personal as well as patriotic. Their venerable father and mother, and two young sisters, were forced to leave their comfortable home in Fairfax a year ago. The mother has sunk into the grave, an early sacrifice, while the father and sisters continue to be homeless. Their house has been burnt to the ground by Federal soldiers—furniture, clothing, important papers, all consumed. Sad as this story is, it is the history of so many families that it has ceased to call forth remark.

MAY 2d.—An iniquitous looking prisoner was brought in to-day from Orange C. H., by the name of Robert Stewart. The evidence against him is as follows: He is a Pennsylvanian, though a resident of Virginia for a number of years, and owns a farm in Orange County. Since the series of disasters, and the seeming downward progress of our affairs, Stewart has cooled his ardor for independence. He has slunk from enrollment in the militia, and under the Conscription Act. And since the occupation of Fredericksburg by the enemy he has made use of such equivocal language as to convince his neighbors that his sympathies are wholly with the Northern invader.

A day or two since, near nightfall, three troopers, weary and worn, halted at Stewart’s house and craved food and rest for themselves and horses. Stewart, supposing them to be Confederate soldiers, declared he had nothing they wanted, and that he was destitute of every description of refreshments. They said they were sorry for it, as it was a long ride to Fredericksburg.

“Are you Union soldiers?” asked Stewart, quickly.

“Yes,” said they, “and we are on scouting duty.”

“Come in! Come in! I have everything you want!” cried Stewart, and when they entered he embraced them.

A sumptuous repast was soon on the table, but the soldiers refused to eat! Surprised at this, Stewart demanded the reason; the troopers rose, and said they were Confederate soldiers, and it was their duty to arrest a traitor. They brought him hither. Will he, too, escape merited punishment?

Friday, 2d–It is warm and pleasant. The water is very scarce at this camp and poor in quality. We hear the sound of cannon in the front every day. The Sixth Division is in the second line of battle, but we are building no fortifications, as we are moved from right to left, as the case may be, in support of either wing of the army whenever reinforcements are called for.

May 2d. In the midst of the excitement the U. S. steam transport Rhode Island came in with a large mail, which gladdened many a heart as they read letters from friends at home. This afternoon a collision took place between the Brooklyn and a gunboat, the latter drifting afoul of the former, when she dragged her anchor and both dropped down the stream; after going half a mile they were disengaged with the loss of the gunboat’s smoke pipe, foremast and quarter boat.

2nd. Orders from Curtiss to go somewhere, of course we know not where, probably to Cowskin Prairie in extreme southwest corner of Missouri, near the border of Indian Territory. Went out to a grist mill, two miles, and got some flour. Enjoyed the ride very much. Letters from Uncle and L. Randall.

New York, May 2nd.

My Dear Girls: We have received this, morning your letter of Monday and Tuesday (Georgy’s) written at intervals and mailed off Ship Point. What a strange life you are leading on board a hospital ship, sewing hospital flags, dispensing medicines, etc., etc. You two have always been together in the queerest and most varied circumstances, and in all parts of the world, from the heart of the Mammoth Cave to the top of the Pyramids of Egypt, in peace; and now, in war. You did not inclose the ward-list, but “Dr. Woolsey,” we feel confident, is a joke on Georgy. She deserves a title of the sort, I am sure. You thought of everything it seems, even to a flat-iron. . . . We seem to be sitting at home impotent and imbecile. It costs us no trouble to order home a few pieces of mosquito bar from Holmes’, or a few dozen towels from Milliken’s–and even these are sitting under the piano waiting. We have screwed the bandage-roller on again, and the little table stands with strips of cotton and pins and labels just as it stood one year ago, when Georgy fired away with it day after day,–between the folding doors of the parlors.

Mother came home yesterday from Philadelphia, leaving Hatty at the Hodge’s. Aspinwall, wife and baby are there. We think Mother looks well. She brought a few of Joe’s photographs. What a keen, alert, decided look he has, as becomes a Colonel and a man who has done a year’s military duty! Soon after Mother, came Mary, Robert and May to dine and spend the night. This happened very nicely, as it was Mother’s first evening at home after Washington. . . .

What great events are happening! Awhile ago, two such things as the fall of New Orleans and of Fort Macon in one week would have crazed us with surprise and delight. We are almost blasés in such matters. . . . It is a good joke and commentary on the southern doctrine of “State rights” that the Governor of North Carolina has been arrested in Richmond, Virginia, for “Unionism”!

Cheeseman’s Landing, Friday.

Dear Georgy: I hope to see you and Eliza to-day. . . . We received all the wounded from the assault on the lunette alluded to, except one too badly hurt to move (who has since died, they tell me) and a few so slightly injured as to be retained for future service. The “boys” here say that Thomas Archer, your servant’s brother, did not belong to their Company H, but to Company A, and that he was among those left behind on account of his injuries being slight.

So far our patients, with hardly an exception, have been a superior class of men, and it has been a great pleasure to attend to them.

Dr. Tripler was here yesterday, and I was glad to hear of the probable removal of not only the 200 sick at Ship Point, but of 400 scattered elsewhere, to Boston, New York or Philadelphia.

2nd.–Firing to-day in the direction of Yorktown. A report says that a general battle has commenced there. I think not, as we are moving our camp. If there were a fight we should have been ordered to hold ourselves in readiness, (which we have not.) Great rejoicing in camp at the report that Stevens’ battery and the Vanderbilt have captured the Merrimac. But these camp reports are very unreliable, and have to be repeated many times before they are believed. We have increasing indications of a fight soon. I this moment hear a man inquiring after my health. He is sorry “the old gentleman” is not well. “Fine Old gentleman.” Am I really growing old? I am not well, but better.

MAY 1st.—The ladies shower loaves of bread and slices of ham on the passing troops.

Thursday, 1st–We received marching orders, and striking our tents moved four miles further toward Corinth. All of the Sixth Division moved forward today. We went to work and cleaned up our camp in a heavy piece of timber. This is camp number 3.