Saturday, 2d–They had a very cold winter here in Iowa and the ground has been frozen so deep that it is slow in thawing out. Farmers, as yet, have sown but little wheat, but they have everything ready to push the seeding as soon as the ground will permit. It is quite pleasant today, but the roads are very muddy yet, and there is no news of any importance.

April 2nd, 1864.—We did a mean thing yesterday. It being “all fools day”, we issued invitations to a favored few to supper. Then we went to work to play a joke on them. We induced Betsey, who keeps house for the Donelsons, to help us. We made pies, beautiful looking pies, but they were filled with cotton instead of fruit. Green corn had just filled out enough to eat, so we had corn fritters, but cotton was shredded through and through the tempting looking brown cakes. We had hot biscuits, but they, too, were tough and unfit to eat because of the cotton kneaded in the dough. A beautiful bowl of salad graced the centre of the table, but instead of lettuce, hoarhound had been used. Now Mother would never have let us do this but Aunt Margaret is very indulgent and allows her daughters to do pretty much as they please. The company arrived, three young ladies and three soldiers from Camp Randolph. We took our seats at the table and Aunt Margaret made the coffee and the dishes were handed to the guests. It was only when we saw the blank expression on their faces that we understood what an unkind prank. we had played.

Aunt Margaret arose to the occasion—Betsey must have whispered in her mistress’ ear, for she touched the bell, which sat beside her plate and Rose and Chatity came in and removed the dishes, which we had come to hate by this time, and Betsey followed, with old Aunt Prudy in the rear, with a truly good supper, a more bountiful one than we had provided and far better. Oh, how we thanked. Aunt Margaret and she did not scold us one bit.

Susan Bradford is 18 years old when this entry was made.

April, Saturday 2, 1864

Ever memorable and (to me ) sad day. I was awakened this morning by the pitious howl of poor Fosco—as I feared when Beulah left the room, they all killed seven sheep last night. Uncle Elum knocked Fosco in the head, Beulah ran to my room, thereby saving her life—Father sent for her, and then came for her—but oh! he knew not what he asked—to give my dog—my best friend—my Beulah, who had so often defended me in danger, my only protector in the dead hour of night—to drive her from my side, to be murdered. I would as soon thought of kneeling myself on the block, as to see my best friend. Father positively forbid my takeing her off—I hope God will forgive me for the disobedience, but I was obliged to do it. Mary Robinson and Joe Smith took her to Memphis in the buggy to Ed and Rhoda. I know they will love her—none of them sympathise or appreciate the sorrow it gave me to part with poor Beulah. Old Wright’s drunken son has been prowling all over the place tonight, shot Ben’s dog, Edmondson’s battery both white and black started after him, met him in the lane, he cocked his gun and flourished it—cowardly dog, sneaked off after that. Laura, Tip and I all alone, oh! my poor, poor Beulah, how can I do without you—

APRIL 2d.—It rained furiously all night; wind northwest, and snowed to-day until 12 to a depth of several inches. It is still blowing a gale from the northwest.

To-day the clerks were paid in the new currency; but I see no abatement of prices from the scarcity of money, caused by funding. Shad are selling at $10 each, paper; or 50 cents, silver. Gold and silver are circulating—a little.

A letter from Liberty, Va., states that government bacon (tithe) is spoiling, in bulk, for want of attention.

From Washington County there are complaints that Gen. Longstreet’s impressing officers are taking all, except five bushels of grain and fifty pounds of bacon for each adult—a plenty, one would think, under the circumstances.

Senator Hunter has asked and obtained a detail for Mr. Daudridge (under eighteen) as quartermaster’s clerk. And Mr. Secretary Seddon has ordered the commissary to let Mrs. Michie have sugar and flour for her family, white and black.

Mr. Secretary Benjamin sent over, to-day, for passports to the Mississippi River for two “secret agents.” What for?

Gen. Lee has made regulations to prevent cotton, tobacco, etc. passing his lines into the enemy’s country, unless allowed by the government. But, then, several in authority will “allow” it without limit.

I set out sixty-eight early cabbage-plants yesterday. They are now under the snow!

April 1st. Moved camp over the railroad, three-quarters of a mile. Went to town and got camp and G. equipage, and hay and wood.

April 1.–Grandfather had decided to go to New York to attend the fair given by the Sanitary Commission, and he is taking two immense books, which are more than one hundred years old, to present to the Commission, for the benefit of the war fund.

Friday, 1st–The same old thing over and over. I almost wish myself back in the army; everything seems to be so lonesome here. There is nothing going on that is new, and there is no work of any kind.

April 1.—My diary has been somewhat neglected, for after looking over commissary accounts for six hours in the day, and attending to home or hospital duties in the afternoon, I am too much wearied to write much at night. There are reports of movements in the armies which portend bloody work as the season advances. Oh that the Lord may have us in his holy keeping!

We continue quite comfortable at home. Of course provisions are scarce; but, thanks to our country friends and relatives, we have never been obliged to give up meat entirely. My brother-in-law, Mr. N., has lately sent us twelve hams, so that we are much better supplied than most persons. Groceries are extremely high. “We were fortunate in buying ten pounds of tea, when it only sold for $22 per pound. Coffee now sells for $12, and brown sugar at $10 per pound. White sugar is not to be thought of by persons of moderate means. Milk is very scarce and high, so that we have only had it once for many months; and we, the Colonel, Mr. –– , and myself, are very glad to get a cup of tea, night and morning, sweetened with brown sugar, and without milk or cream. Before the war we would have scorned it, but [continue reading…]

APRIL 1st.—Cloudy all day, with occasional light showers.

No war news; but the papers have an account of the shooting of an infant by some Yankees on account of its name. This shows that the war is degenerating more and more into savage barbarism.

April, Friday 1, 1864

A gloomy day, raining, cold, and dreary. I have managed to exist, have not done much sewing. I came to my room after dinner, and spent the evening reading the Caxton’s—although quite an old book, I have never read it. I began with high expectations, and recommendations, as Bulwer’s best—must confess I was greatly disapointed . I think ‘What will he do with it ?’ is one of the best novels I ever read—with that as my last remembrance of Bulwer, it would scarce be expected I could admire old Mr. Caxton’s eccentric disposition, or Ladie Caxton’s great lack of spirit, through fear of her liege lord—Beulah was my companion—I could not listen to her distressed whine, unfastened her chain, she went out as I came to my room after tea, and has not yet returned. I fear they will all get into trouble, poor Beulah, she is my best friend, but I do not think she has many friends outside of my own little room. Laura and Bettie said a very good lesson—Laura and Tippie Dora both asleep. No late news from Forrest. I am so lonely, how long oh! Lord, how long must I wait—

April 1st.–Mrs. Davis is utterly depressed. She said the fall of Richmond must come; she would send her children to me and Mrs. Preston. We begged her to come to us also. My husband is as depressed as I ever knew him to be. He has felt the death of that angel mother of his keenly, and now he takes his country’s woes to heart.

31st. Went to town to the Q. M. with Bill. A rainy unpleasant day. Slept with Brother N. at Q. M. Carpenter’s.

Thursday, 31st–I went to a party this evening, given in honor of the veterans, over at Mr. Hatch’s, on Yankee Street.^[1] There were not many present, but all enjoyed themselves. I found a new road to travel, a mile from this place—if all goes well. Things are very quiet in this settlement, but almost every young man here is thinking of returning with us to help bring the war to a close. It does us good to see the loyal sentiment among the people at home. The general belief at home is that the war cannot last more than a year longer.

[1] Yankee Street was the name given to an adjoining neighborhood.—A. G. D.

March, Thursday 31, 1864

Laura awakened me standing by the bed with my breakfast. I was too sleepy to eat, and only drank my Coffee. I have felt very badly all day, did not do any sewing, lying down most of the day. Mr. Pugh, Jim and Mr. Harbut with Jim’s body guard the Prince of darkness, left for Dixie. Mr. Harbut is to meet the other Scouts a few miles below here, where they will all cross the R. R. together, joining Capt. Henderson somewhere in Tenn—all of troops have crossed Charlston R. R. and I expect we will hear glorious news in the nest few days. Jim & Mr. Pugh are trying to find a way to join Forrest, they had not been gone more than five minutes when four Yankees, belonging to 6th, Ill. Cav. came riding in, asked if we had seen any Confederate Soldiers, of course we said no. I think they came to steal, but we were polite to them, and they left—only wanted some milk, which they got. Tate & Nannie went to town today, Mr. Perryman got them a pass—they got home safe, but saw Anna Nelson and Sallie Hildebrand arrested and carried back with a Negro guard, for smugling a pr of boots—

Forrest is still moveing onward through Ky, having everything his own way. I came to my room early. A terible rainstorm raging—my pets all in. May my heart still be humble, and trust that God will, in his own time, brighten my life and happines—

MARCH 31st.—Cloudy and cold. No war news, though it is generally believed that Longstreet is really in the valley.

A speech delivered by the Hon. J. W. Wall, in New Jersey, is copied in all the Southern papers, and read with interest by our people.

March 31st, 1864.–The box has gone and my socks were ready; that is, the requisite number went but I had to borrow one sock from Aunt Robinson, with the promise that I would knit another right away. I am going to Aunt Margaret’s to stay a few days. Her girls are going to school at Live Oak and I do not see them as often as when they attended school here at Pine Hill.

Susan Bradford is 18 years old when this entry was made.

March 31st. Norwich, Connecticut. It is good to be home once more among friends. Wishing the war was over. I am afraid that many more of the 18th Regiment must fall before the end comes. Some will never see home again. These are dark, sad days, but we are trying to enjoy our visit at home, visiting relations and friends. The cemeteries in the cities and the country fighting had taken place in this vicinity but now quiet and peaceful. Battles are liable to take place here most any day. I always felt that Pleasant Valley, Maryland, was rightly named, for it is a beautiful country.

Mar. 1, ’64—Start at 3 a. m. Meet Bros. Selby, Branson, and Cunninggim in Raleigh. Meet Bros. Burkhead, Henderson, M. C. Thomas, J. B. Williams and W. B. Richardson on train. Night in Richmond.

Mar. 2—Meet Bro. H. H. Gibbons

Mar. 3—Detained in Richmond by the raiders between us and Lee’s army. Bros. Gibbons, Richardson and I visit hospitals and penitentiary.

Mar. 4—Visit Federal prisoners on Belle Island and hospital No. 24.

Mar. 5—Bros. Gibbons and Richardson go with me to my Regiment near Orange Court House and spend night with me.

Mar. 6—Bro. Richardson preaches for me in a. m. and Bro. Gibbons for 2nd Regiment in p. m. Very unwell at night.

Mar. 7—Walk with Bro. Richardson to his Regiment. Bro. Gibbons preached for me at night.

Mar. 8—Bro. Richardson preaches for me at night.

Mar. 9—He leaves for North Carolina against my earnest advice. Bro. Gibbons goes to see R. S. Webb. Squires starts writing school again. I preach at night. My Colonel was kind enough to detail Squires to teach a writing school in my chapel. The Captains allowed men to attend the school when not on duty. (Many men learned to write during the war).

Mar. 10—Rain all day. Write many letters. Hear from wife, and Rev. L. S. Burkhead.

Mar. 12—Walk to see Revs. Colton and Harding. Bro. Gibbons preaches for me at night and spends the night with me.

Mar. 13—Preach to Daniels’ Brigade in church in a. m. and return to Power’s Chapel in time for communion, where Bro. Gibbons had just preached. Bible class in my chapel in p. m. I preach at night.

Mar. 14—Go to Orange Court house with Bro. Gibbons and see him off to North Carolina. Prayer meeting at night.

Mar. 15—Prayer meeting in K.

Mar. 16—Prayer meeting in B.

Mar. 17—Prayer meeting in I.

Mar. 18—Prayer meeting in F.

Mar. 19—Regiment goes on picket. I preach for 4th Regiment.

Sunday, Mar. 20—Hear Bro. B. F. Long preach in 5th North Carolina; communion there. I preach to division provost guard and prisoners in p. m. Bro. Richardson arrives from North Carolina.

Mar. 21—Visit Daniel’s Brigade. Very cold.

Mar. 22—Meet Chaplains. Dr. Granberry preaches. Gen. Lee there. Snow falls about 18 inches. Bro. Richardson with me.

Mar. 23—He moves his Regiment.

Mar. 24—Snow still on ground. My pony gives birth to a female pony.

Mar. 25—Gov. Vance arrives in Daniel’s Brigade.

Mar. 26—Visit Bro. Richardson. Gov. Vance addresses large crowd.

Sunday, Mar. 27—Preach in a. m., “Love God.” Bible class in p. m. Preach at night, “Love thy neighbor as thyself.”

Mar. 28—Gov. Vance reviews North Carolina troops in this corps and addresses them—”Fellow Tar- Heels!”

Mar. 31—Finished reading Trumbull’s “Christ in History.” Began “Mercy Seat” by Dr. Spring.

March 31st.–Met Preston Hampton. Constance Cary was with me. She showed her regard for him by taking his overcoat and leaving him in a drenching rain. What boyish nonsense he talked; said he was in love with Miss Dabney now, that his love was so hot within him that he was waterproof, the rain sizzed and smoked off. It did not so much as dampen his ardor or his clothes.

30th. A rainy unpleasant day. Detailed to act as R. Q. M. vice Bills, who thinks of resigning on account of matters at home. Played some at chess. Boys seem to regret my leaving the company. I know I do. I do desire to do my duty well, faithfully and honestly. In the evening took the non-commissioned officers over for oysters. Went to chapel to prayer meeting–interesting.

Wednesday, 30th–I remained at home all day. Times appear to be very dull and lonesome. My brothers are having a siege of the measles. I am thankful that I have had them, for measles in the army causes more soldiers to be discharged for disability than anything else. I long to see this cruel war come to a close.

MARCH 30th.—It rained all night, the wind blowing a gale from the east. This morning the wind was from the west, blowing moderately; and although cloudy, no rain.

The enemy’s gun-boats down the river shelled the shore where it was suspected we had troops in ambush; and when some of their barges approached the shore, it was ascertained they were not mistaken, for a volley from our men (signal corps) killed and wounded half the crew. The remainder put back to the gunboats.

There is great tribulation among the departmental clerks, who are to be enrolled as conscripts, and probably sent to the army. The young relatives of some of the Secretaries are being appointed commissaries, quartermasters, surgeons, etc. They keep out of danger.

Many ladies have been appointed clerks. There is a roomful of them just over the Secretary’s office, and he says they distract him with their noise of moving of chairs and running about, etc.

The papers publish an account of a battle of snow-balls in our army, which indicates the spirit of the troops, when, perhaps, they are upon the eve of passing through such awful scenes of carnage as will make the world tremble at the appalling spectacle.

April, Saturday 30, 1864

Laura brought my breakfast to my room—very late—everybody slept late this morning – Raining, raining, raining—oh! such a gloomy day as it has been. Joanna & Nannie have not come yet. Nonconnah is swimming, but Father is miserable for fear that is not what keeps them.

Maj. Crump left about 10 o’clock, we have not heard how he got through, but heard of no scouts, and reckon he is all right, some where in Panola tonight. Mr. Bray brought Nannie a letter from Dashiell, all of the fords on Nonconnah are heavily picketed—the Gurrilla’s ambushed a scouting party of fourteen, at Pigeon Rooste crossing on yesterday, killing the Yankee’s three horses—wounding two Yanks and capturing three and one horse, only six out of the crowd got back to Memphis— they are very much exasperated—the lines have been closed since, and that may have detained the girls—hurrah! for the Dick Davis and his band—I hope they may break into this thieving band of Yanks roving over the Country—both of Helen’s little pups died today—

God bless our armies and give us success—

March 30th. After an all-night’s ride on a slow train we reached Jersey City at eight o’clock this morning. We were due in Connecticut this morning in time for the men to register, so they could vote, this being the last day. At Jersey City marched on board a small transport. By the time half of the regiment was on board, the old craft began to sink. Not fit to take us around New York, and surely not through Long Island Sound. We returned to the dock. Informed the officers we were ready to pay our fares home by cars, as we would not risk our lives on that frail craft. After waiting awhile orders came to fall in. Then marched on board a Cortlandt Street ferry-boat for New York, thence through Cortlandt Street to Broadway, on up to 14th Street, then up 4th Avenue to 27th Street, to the station, to the New York, New Haven, and Hartford R. R. Going on board train we were soon bound for Connecticut. Passed on through New Haven, out on the Shore Line road. The train was often side-tracked, making the journey a tedious one. Nothing important happened during the journey until we reached the Connecticut River. Up to this time cheers and congratulations had been shouted for good old Connecticut. It was believed that the managers of the railroad were in sympathy with the South and were copper-heads. The crossing of the Connecticut River was by ferry-boat. It was obliged to make two trips in order to get the regiment over. The river was very high and very swift, owing to the spring freshet. Our company went over in the first load with safety. The second boat-load was carried out into the Sound. Great anxiety was felt for those on board as the boat struggled in the swift current to make the dock. After making slow progress the boat finally reached the dock, after a long time. It began to grow dark before the train started again. After many delays the train arrived in Norwich about midnight, in a cold rain-storm. Forming in line we marched to Treadway’s Hall on Water Street, a good lunch having been provided. Many people were out, waiting to greet the regiment. After the reception at the hall many made their way home. Those from out of town remained in the hall until morning. All were happy, being home once more. Pretty well tired out. Not much sleep for the past three days and nights on the cars, homeward bound. My home was with an aunt on Franklin Street, where I received a hearty welcome.