6th. Drew rations in the night. Moved at 7–whole army. Cavalry to the left of Burkeville. Charged the reb wagon train. Scattered the skirmish line and charged each way. Chester and myself charged nearly 4 miles, nearly to the head of train–no support. (Battle of Sailor’s Creek.) Chester wounded in the head. Eggleston and Smith got several pieces of artillery. Got back to command by a circuitous route, the rebs having cut us off. Two divisions charged mounted and were repulsed. Reformed and charged again with success, the 6th Corps engaging the rear. Lt. Stearns killed. Several Co. “C” captured. Several thousand prisoners, many colors, Generals and cannon. 2nd credited 650 prisoners, 60 officers and 4 pieces of artillery. Lost good men.[1]

[1] In a letter from Capt. Chester dated March 23, 1914, regarding the fighting at Sailor’s Creek he says:

“Our regiment and brigade was ordered to charge Lee’s wagon train in sight, across a small stream with banks on the farther side. Our regiment was, as I remember it, the last one in the column so were the left of the line of battle or attack. We struck the wagon train and commenced taking prisoners. All formation of company or regiment was broken, every soldier acting independently. The driver of a mule team refused to stop when I ordered him to do so, and I was about to shoot him when it occurred to me that if I killed the driver the team would continue to go just the same. So I rode up to the “lead” mule (the one on the left hand side of head pair) and shot it. That stopped the entire team and blocked the narrow road. I then captured a rebel Major and turned him over to Sergt. Waters of Co. H to take to the rear. As soon as that was done Joe T. Haskell–now of Wellington–came to me. Capt. Tenney with his orderly, and Lieut. Stearns, came up, so there were five of us. We turned to the right and rode to the top of the bank or bluff and there the rebel train was in full sight again a mile or more from where we first charged it. The five men took position several rods apart so as to cover or show quite a line. As we showed ourselves the train guard fired on us. We each turned and called out loudly for the “pretended battalions” in the ravine to charge. We advanced on the gallop firing our revolvers and shooting as we went. The train guard was stampeded and ran. We followed along the train for a quarter of a mile to where the fence had been thrown down and the wagons were going into a piece of woods. I was a few rods from the fence when a rebel from behind a tree in the woods fired at me and missed hitting me. I fired my revolver at him, to no effect, however. He then reloaded his gun, stepping from behind the tree in doing so, then rested his gun beside the tree and took deliberate aim at me, and fired. The bullet knocked me from my horse. Capt. Tenney rode up, caught my horse and told me I was all right. I supposed I was mortally wounded. Haskell came to me and taking a suit case from a wagon found some white cloth and tied up my head. In the meantime other men came up and Capt. Tenney and Lt. Stearns led them to attack the train again going through the woods, some distance I think. Somewhere after leaving me Lieut. Stearns was killed by a train guard.”

April 6th. A cold rain storm this morning. Nothing to do but try and keep comfortable. Discussing the war question, and what the indications are about our getting home. General Lee has not surrendered as yet. Perhaps there may be much more fighting. One question is, it may turn into a guerilla warfare, owing to so many mountains in the South.

6th.—Mr. Lincoln has visited our devoted city to-day. His reception was any thing but complimentary. Our people were in nothing rude or disrespectful; they only kept themselves away from a scene so painful. There are very few Unionists of the least respectability here; these met them (he was attended by Stanton and others) with cringing loyalty, I hear, but the rest of the small collection were of the low, lower, lowest of creation. They drove through several streets, but the greeting was so feeble from the motley crew of vulgar men and women, that the Federal officers themselves, I suppose, were ashamed of it, for they very soon escaped from the disgraceful association. It is said that they took a collation at General Ord’s—our President’s house!! Ah! it is a bitter pill. I would that dear old house, with all its associations, so sacred to the Southerners, so sweet to us as a family, had shared in the general conflagration. Then its history would have been unsullied, though sad. Oh, how gladly would I have seen it burn! I have been nowhere since Monday, except to see my dear old friend Mrs. R., and to the hospital. There I am not much subjected to the harrowing sights and sounds by which we are surrounded. The wounded must be nursed; poor fellows, they are so sorrowful! Our poor old Irishman died on Sunday. The son of a very old acquaintance was brought to our hospital a few days ago, most severely wounded—Colonel Charles Richardson, of the artillery. We feared at first that he must die, but now there is a little more hope. It is so sad that after four years of bravery and devotion to the cause, he should be brought to his native city, for the defence of which he would have gladly given his life, dangerously if not mortally wounded, when its sad fate is just decided. I love to sit by his bedside and try to cheer him; his friends seem to vie with each other in kind attentions to him.

We hear rumours of battles, and of victories gained by our troops, but we have no certain information beyond the city lines.

April 6^th 1865

Mr Lincoln has been in Richmond. Near half of the City has been destroyed by fire by the Rebels themselves as they evacuated it. Large numbers of prisoners have been captured by Sheridan, Gen^l Ewell and his Corps, some seven thousand.

April 5th.–Bright and pleasant.

Stayed with my next door neighbors at their request last night– all females. It was quiet; and so far the United States pickets and guards have preserved perfect order.

The cheers that greeted President Lincoln were mostly from the negroes and Federals comprising the great mass of humanity. The white citizens felt annoyed that the city should be held mostly by negro troops. If this measure were not unavoidable, it was impolitic if conciliation be the purpose.

Mr. Lincoln, after driving to the mansion lately occupied by Mr. Davis, Confederate States President, where he rested, returned, I believe, to the fleet at Rocketts.

This morning thousands of negroes and many white females are besieging the public officers for provisions. I do not observe any getting them, and their faces begin to express disappointment.

It is said all the negro men, not entering the army, will be put to work, rebuilding bridges, repairing railroads, etc.

I have seen a New York Herald of the 3d, with dispatches of the 1st and 2d inst. from Mr. Lincoln, who was at City Point during the progress of the battle. He sums up with estimate of 12,000 prisoners captured, and 50 guns.

The rumor of a success by Gen. Lee on Monday is still credited. Per contra, it is reported that President Davis is not only a captive, but will soon be exhibited in Capitol Square. [continue reading…]

Wednesday, 5th–The regimental chaplains are occupying the pulpits of the different churches of Goldsboro and conducting nightly meetings. A large number of the boys are attending and a great many are coming forward and professing the name of the Lord. May the work continue until all have made the profession.

5th. Wednesday. Reached Juttersville Station on Danville R. R. at 10. 5th Corps made a reconnoissance and captured a large number of prisoners, wagons, flags, cannon, etc. Suffered some. Rebs at Amelia C. H. Cox spied.

April 5th. Orders received this morning to fall in without arms for a march into town and report at headquarters. Surprised to hear that we were to receive four months pay. It was overdue. No one left in camp but the camp guard. We were allowed more liberty than ever before. We remained in town all day. I was the only corporal in town with the company. Many of the boys are on the sick list. I was ordered to receive the pay for those of our company in the hospital, visit the hospital and give the boys their money. All were thankful to get the money and pleased to see me and were made happy over the good news I brought to them about General Grant’s success in routing the enemy. Returned to camp late tonight. I felt that I had put in a very busy day. Weather damp, cool, and very cloudy.

April 5.—I feel as if we were groping in the dark; no one knows what to do. The Yankees, so far, have behaved humanely. As usual, they begin with professions of kindness to those whom they have ruined without justifiable cause, without reasonable motive, without right to be here, or anywhere else within the Southern boundary. General Ord is said to be polite and gentlemanly, and seems to do every thing in his power to lessen the horrors of this dire calamity. Other officers are kind in their departments, and the negro regiments look quite subdued. No one can tell how long this will last. Norfolk had its day of grace, and even New Orleans was not down-trodden at once. There are already apprehensions of evil. Is the Church to pray for the Northern President? How is it possible, except as we pray for all other sinners? But I pause for further developments.

April 5th.–Miss Middleton’s letter came in answer to mine, telling her how generous my friends here were to me. “We long,” she says, “for our own small sufficiency of wood, corn, and vegetables. Here is a struggle unto death, although the neighbors continue to feed us, as you would say, ‘with a spoon.’ We have fallen upon a new device. We keep a cookery book on the mantelpiece, and when the dinner is deficient we just read off a pudding or a crême. It does not entirely satisfy the appetite, this dessert in imagination, but perhaps it is as good for the digestion.”

As I was ready to go, though still up-stairs, some one came to say General Hood had called. Mrs. Hamilton cried out, “Send word you are not at home.” “Never!” said I. “Why make him climb all these stairs when you must go in five minutest ” “If he had come here dragging Sherman as a captive at his chariot wheels I might say ‘not at home,’ but not now.” And I ran down and greeted him on the sidewalk in the face of all, and walked slowly beside him as he toiled up the weary three stories, limping gallantly. He was so well dressed and so cordial; not depressed in the slightest. He was so glad to see me. He calls his report self-defense; says Joe Johnston attacked him and he was obliged to state things from his point of view. And now follow statements, where one may read between the lines what one chooses. He had been offered a command in Western Virginia, but as General Lee was concerned because he and Joe Johnston were not on cordial terms, and as the fatigue of the mountain campaign would be too great for him, he would like the chance of going across the Mississippi. Texas was true to him, and would be his home, as it had voted him a ranch somewhere out there. They say General Lee is utterly despondent, and has no plan if Richmond goes, as go it must.

April 4th.–Another bright and beautiful day.

I walked around the burnt district this morning. Some seven hundred houses, from Main Street to the canal, comprising the most valuable stores, and the best business establishments, were consumed. All the bridges across the James were destroyed, the work being done effectually. Shells were placed in all the warehouses where the tobacco was stored, to prevent the saving of any.

The War Department was burned after I returned yesterday; and soon after the flames were arrested, mainly by the efforts of the Federal troops.

Gen. Weitzel commanded the troops that occupied the city upon its abandonment.

The troops do not interfere with the citizens here any more than they do in New York–yet. Last night everything was quiet, and perfect order prevails.

A few thousand negroes (mostly women) are idle in the streets, or lying in the Capitol Square, or crowding about headquarters, at the Capitol.

Gen. Lee’s family remain in the city. I saw a Federal guard promenading in front of the door, his breakfast being just sent to him from within.

Brig.-Gen. Gorgas’s family remain also. They are Northern-born. [continue reading…]

Tuesday, 4th–The quartermaster distributed new clothing today. I drew a hat, a pair of shoes and a pair of socks. We are enjoying full rations again, and also our new clothing. We no longer have to search our haversacks for a crumb of hardtack.

4th. Up at daylight. Sent telegram home. Moved up the Appomattox, our Div. in advance. Captured 300 or 400 prisoners, 5 guns and many wagons. Hill’s Corps and cavalry on our front. Near Bevil’s Bridge enemy made a stand at a crossroads to get a part of their column by. Artillery opened and rebs ran. Our regt. did not become engaged. Went out to pick up wounded. Quite a number of deserters. Camped on this ground. Richmond ours. God hasten peace. Clear and pleasant. Cavalry moved on up the Appomattox. 1st Div. in advance. Would that I could see mother now in her distress. Passed a part of the infantry. Made a feint towards Amelia C. H. Went into camp. 2nd on picket. Moved out again at 11 P. M. Returned to main road and marched all night.

April 4th. Relieved from picket this morning. On reaching camp there was great rejoicing over the good news. Reports continue to come about General Grant’s success. Shouting and singing, glory hallelujah on all sides. Citizens and soldiers cheering over the good news. Bands and drum corps making all the music they can. We are at liberty to go and come as we please. Duty suspended as far as can be. In and out of town as we please. A happy time. The Union people in town are keeping open house. The soldiers are made welcome. The glorious Yankee Army are surely in Richmond. We are all thankful for the good news. This summer will surely find us in good old Connecticut. The singing and cheering is continuous.

April 3d.–Another clear and bright morning. It was a quiet night, with its million of stars. And yet how few could sleep, in anticipation of the entrance of the enemy! But no enemy came until 9 A.M., when some 500 were posted at the Capitol Square. They had been waited upon previously by the City Council, and the surrender of the city stipulated–to occur this morning. They were asked to post guards for the protection of property from pillage, etc., and promised to do so.

At dawn there were two tremendous explosions, seeming to startle the very earth, and crashing the glass throughout the western end of the city. One of these was the blowing up of the magazine, near the new almshouse–the other probably the destruction of an iron-clad ram. But subsequently there were others. I was sleeping soundly when awakened by them.

All night long they were burning the papers of the Second Auditor’s office in the street–claims of the survivors of deceased soldiers, accounts of contractors, etc.

At 7 A.M. Committees appointed by the city government visited the liquor shops and had the spirits (such as they could find) destroyed. The streets ran with liquor; and women and boys, black and white, were seen filling pitchers and buckets from the gutters.

A lady sold me a bushel of potatoes in Broad Street for $75, Confederate States money–$5 less than the price a few days ago. I bought them at her request. And some of the shops gave clothing to our last retiring guards.

Goods, etc. at the government depots were distributed to the poor, to a limited extent, there being a limited amount.

A dark volume of smoke rises from the southeastern section of the city, and spreads like a pall over the zenith. It proceeds from the tobacco warehouse, ignited, I suppose, hours ago, and now just bursting forth.

At 8 ½ A.M. The armory, arsenal, and laboratory (Seventh and Canal Streets), which had been previously fired, gave forth terrific sounds from thousands of bursting shells. This continued for more than an hour. Some fragments of shell fell within a few hundred yards of my house.

The pavements are filled with pulverized glass. Some of the great flour mills have taken fire from the burning government warehouses, and the flames are spreading through the lower part of the city. A great conflagration is apprehended.

The doors of the government bakery (Clay Street) were thrown open this morning, and flour and crackers were freely distributed, until the little stock was exhausted. I got a barrel of the latter, paying a negro man $5 to wheel it home–a short distance. [continue reading…]

Monday, 3d–Fine weather continues, and camp routine the same. We are enjoying our fine camp ground, and to prevent our becoming stale, we have to keep up regular drill for our next campaign.

Monday, 3rd. Yesterday I wrote to mother and sisters.[1] The fighting of Saturday was most severe. The 2nd Ohio lost 35 killed and wounded in the two days. 5 officers. Trees completely riddled where we were. How so few fell I can not see. Brilliant affair–but oh the cost. Petersburg ours, too. It seems hard to lose dear friends when peace seems so near. Picket’s Div. captured nearly entire. Wrote the sad news home, also wrote Richard Bail’s people. Moved out at 9 A. M. Crossed the south side R. R. between Fords and Sutherlands. 5th Corps across. Very little firing heard today. 1st Div. struck the rebs near the river road. Firing after dark.

[1] Letter from L. H. Tenney to his Mother and Sisters

Oak Grove, Alabama, Sunday P. M., April 1, 1866.

My Dear Mother and Friends:

I wonder if nearly the same thoughts are not in your mind this P. M. which are in mine.

The sun is just about as low now at 6 o’clock as it was a year ago, when our noble boy, Theodore, fell in the thickest of the fight, face towards the enemy, there in the pine woods at Five Forks. How vividly everything of that sad and yet memorable day comes up to me.

March 31st was a hard day for us. The enemy had driven our cavalry (save one division) from Five Forks nearly back to Dinwiddie Court House. Our Division was sent for (it was behind, hard at work, getting the train through the mud) and went forward at a trot. As we neared the Court House and heard the volleys of musketry, the cheers of the rebels, and saw our men falling back–many straggling–we knew that there was work ahead. How quiet our boys were during the few minutes while we were regaining our organizations. Soon we went forward at a gallop. A half mile at this pace and we came to Custer’s and Sheridan’s colors near an unsupported battery and in sight of the rebel line.

Advancing across a small valley before us, our regiment in advance, we dismounted, formed line by battalions and on double quick started forward in less time, I believe, than I have been in telling it.

The brave Custer, with staff and orderlies, colors flying, went forward with us.

We gave one Second Ohio yell, perhaps a little more faintly than at other times, for the prospect looked dark, and other regiments took it up. The rebel line faced about, but though stragglers left hurriedly, marched slowly. I was afraid. We were within range. It seemed the only thing to do, for we were too few to form a line and hold our position. Another charge was ordered. The Div. colors were not behind. We had hardly started again with a yell, than that rebel line, Pickett’s Div. of Infantry in our front, faced about, fired a volley and came forward on the double quick.

My horse had been shot and I had taken position behind a tree. Thede was a short distance behind me. How well I remember how he exclaimed: “Oh what makes them run,” and then: “Lume, Luman, come, our men are falling back, we’ll get captured!”–and how closely he kept by me, always following me, as I went back slowly through the edge of the woods, my lungs troubling me. The sun had gone down and darkness came when we regained the ground where we had dismounted. We threw up rail breastworks and waited for the rebels. They were cautious, advanced skirmishers found our position and fell back to camp in sight of us. Volunteers were called for or rather “the best men” to a certain number were sent out as scouts to learn the whereabouts and whatabouts of the enemy. Thede was among the number. Without supper or sleep, we awaited the dawn of the day. Quite a number of our boys had fallen, among then Capt. Newton. We talked about our casualties, and the narrow escape of many, and wondered what the morrow would bring. We felt that the fighting was to be decisive, but knew not whether one day would bring victory.

Occasional shots were fired by skirmishers. Morning came. The scouts reported that the enemy had commenced falling back just before day. Sheridan came out with his colors. Our horses were brought up and we marched forward. After going a mile firing commenced on our flank. We countermarched, dismounted, formed line and advanced again, driving cavalry before us. We had missed breakfast, and the boys were weighed down with ammunition, so they left their haversacks upon their horses.

Theodore looked pale and tired–said his bowels were troubling him. It was afternoon before we reached the enemy’s position at Five Forks. We attacked and were repulsed. A gap between the Cavalry and Infantry was discovered, so that two hours were spent moving to the right and then to the left, in front of and in range of the enemy’s works. Here, weak, faint and hungry, we threw up sufficient works of logs, etc., to cover our bodies when lying down. Thede and I were together. He got some crumbs of crackers from my saddle.

It was now four o’clock when the bugles sounded the charge, and the boys, forgetting their weariness, jumped up and vied with each other in advancing to within a few rods of the works, dark with clouds of smoke and belching guns. How grim, savage and hateful everything looked in our front!

You remember well the rest–the next charge–the bravery of the boy, his fall, his devotion to duty, certainty of death, remembrance of his sins, and faith for their forgiveness through Christ–the kind messages to Ma–and then his falling so peacefully to sleep. I never can forget the firm but pleasant look upon his countenance, as he lay among the groaning, dying and dead at the hospital. Then his burial. I thanked God that his brother could be with him in his last moments and lay his remains away to rest till the final trumpet call.

My thoughts were sad as I groped my way through the dark woods to our camp. I thought particularly of the mourning at home. I knew that you would be sad to feel that the boy should be taken in his youth, the hope of his mother and joy of his friends, and yet I felt that you would inwardly thank God that his death had brought glory to Him and freedom to men. The dearer he was to his friends, the brighter his hopes, the greater the sacrifice was in the eyes of God. We ought to feel–I do–that we have a living interest in this great good accomplished and sealed by the blood of our dearest friends. And we certainly have reason to trust that Theodore’s inheritance is in Heaven, drawing us thither.

Luman H. Tenney.

_

Note–One year after the above letter, on April 16, 1867, Luman Harris Tenney and Frances Delia Andrews were married at Oberlin, Ohio.

And about a year and a half later when the brother and mother went to Virginia to look up the burial place of “Brother Theodore” the following letters were written to me in our home in Sandusky, Ohio.

F. D. T., Feb. 5, 1914.

_

Petersburg, Va., Nov. 12, 1868.

Thursday morning.

My Sweet Child:

We arrived here safely a few minutes ago. One of Ma’s first remarks after getting here was, “I wish Fannie, Minnie and Melissa could be here with us today.” I have made the same wish in regard to my darling wife every day since I left her and the dear baby. (Bernard.)

We reached Washington Tuesday evening rather late. Yesterday spent the morning in looking up records. Found that Theodore was buried here in National Cemetery, “Poplar Grove,” about two miles out.

Shall undoubtedly leave him.

Yesterday afternoon we drove over to Arlington Heights and the National Cemetery there, where some 13,000 soldiers rest–

“Sleep the sleep that knows not waking,
Dream of battlefields no more.”

We shall go early to the cemetery and probably to Richmond for the night. Much love, dear child, from

Your devoted husband,
Luman.

_

Washington, D. C., Nov. 14, 1868.

My Own Dear Fannie:

We reached here last evening after a very satisfactory visit at Petersburg and Richmond and pleasant trip back. * * * We found Theodore’s grave very pleasantly situated in the National Cemetery near Petersburg. Everything seemed very satisfactory to Ma. We got flowers and put on the grave. * * *

Shall probably reach home Thursday.

Kiss our sweet “da-da” treasure many times for me. Accept much love, dear Fannie, from

Your Luman.

April 3d. Detailed for picket. Located out on outpost on the Tuscaror road, leading to the North Mountain, about one mile out of town. Have done picket duty on this road many times. At the edge of town all roads are barricaded and closed for the nights, to prevent a sudden dash from the guerillas and Confederate scouts. Report comes tonight that General Grant has taken Richmond and that General Lee has retreated. Good news.

March 25—Brigade moves and I start home on “leave.” It was my last furlough, though I had no idea that I was to see the soldiers and Chaplains no more. How tender would have been the leave-taking, if I had known it was my last sight of those with whom I had been so long associated.

March 26 (Sunday)—Heard Rev. Christian preach at Clay Street in Richmond in a. m., and start to N. C. at 6 p. m. It was the last sermon I was to hear in Va. during the war. All night on the railroad.

March 27—Get to Durham and spend night.

March 28—Reach home and find all well. How happy to be with my wife and little ones. My oldest son had but lately given his heart to God and joined the Church.

March 31—Ride thirty miles horseback and spend night with my brother, A. N. Betts.

April 1, ’65—Walk five miles to see my mother in the home of Allen Betts. Visited sister Jane Betts, widow of my brother, Andrew, who was captured as captain of his company on R. Island in 1862, and reached home on parole to die. He took his eldest son with him. He died in prison. Spent night with C. H. Cofield, who was my guardian for ten years of my boyhood.

April 2 (Sunday)—Preach at Myatt’s schoolhouse. Spend night with my youngest brother, Archibald. “When shall I see my mother again?” Those words were written with the expectation of returning to Lee’s Army in a short time.

April 3—Return to Chapel Hill with sick horse. Spent week at home gardening. Receive bacon and lard I had bought on the Harnett line, thirty miles away. Hurrying up to be ready to return to the Army.

April 3^rd

Hurrah!! Richmond is taken and Gen^l Lee in full retreat. There has been some terrible fighting but it all seems to be going on well. Mr Lincoln is down there and in constant communication with Gen^l Grant. He is at City Point. Lee is being pressed hard by Gen^l Grant. Gen^l Phil Sheridan is the “War dog.”

April 3d.–Saw General Preston ride off. He came to tell me good-by. I told him he looked like a Crusader on his great white horse, with William, his squire, at his heels. Our men are all consummate riders, and have their servants well mounted behind them, carrying cloaks and traps–how different from the same men packed like sardines in dirty railroad cars, usually floating inch deep in liquid tobacco juice.

For the kitchen and Ellen’s comfort I wanted a pine table and a kitchen chair. A woman sold me one to-day for three thousand Confederate dollars.

Mrs. Hamilton has been disappointed again. Prioleau Hamilton says the person into whose house they expected to move to-day came to say she could not take boarders for three reasons: First, “that they had smallpox in the house.” “And the two others?” “Oh, I did not ask for the two others!”

April 3.—Agitated and nervous, I turn to my diary to-night as the means of soothing my feelings. We have passed through a fatal thirty-six hours. Yesterday morning (it seems a week ago) we went, as usual, to St. James’s Church, hoping for a day of peace and quietness, as well as of religious improvement and enjoyment. How short-sighted we are, and how little do we know of what is coming, either of judgment or mercy! The sermon being over, as it was the first Sunday in the month, the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper was administered. The day was bright, beautiful, and peaceful, and a general quietness and repose seemed to rest upon the congregation, undisturbed by rumours and apprehensions. While the sacred elements were being administered, the sexton came in with a note to General Cooper, which was handed him as he walked from the chancel, and he immediately left the church. It made me anxious; but such things are not uncommon, and caused no excitement in the congregation. The services being over, we left the church, and as the congregations from the various churches were being mingled on Grace Street, our children, who had been at St. Paul’s, joined us, on their way to the usual family gathering in our room on Sunday. After the salutations of the morning, J. remarked, in an agitated voice, to his father, that he had just returned from the War Department, and that there was sad news—General Lee’s lines had been broken, and the city would probably be evacuated within twenty-four hours. Not until then did I observe that every countenance was wild with excitement. The inquiry, “What is the matter?” ran from lip to lip. Nobody seemed to hear or to answer. An old friend ran across the street, pale with excitement, repeating what J. had just told us, that unless we heard better news from General Lee the city would be evacuated. We could do nothing; no one suggested any thing to be done. We reached home with a strange, unrealizing feeling. In an hour J. (who is now Professor of Mathematics in the Naval School) received orders to accompany Captain Parker to the South with the Corps of Midshipmen. Then we began to understand that the Government was moving, and that the evacuation was indeed going on. The office-holders were now making arrangements to get off. Every car was ordered to be ready to take them south. Baggage-wagons, carts, drays, and ambulances were driving about the streets; every one was going off that could go, and now there were all the indications of alarm and excitement of every kind which could attend such an awful scene. The people were rushing up and down the streets, vehicles of all kinds were flying along, bearing goods of all sorts and people of all ages and classes who could go beyond the corporation lines. We tried to keep ourselves quiet. We could not go south, nor could we leave the city at all in this hurried way. J. and his wife had gone. The “Colonel,” with B., intended going in the northern train this morning—he to his home in Hanover County, and she to her father’s house in Clarke County, as soon as she could get there. Last night, when we went out to hire a servant to go to Camp Jackson for our sister, we for the first time realized that our money was worthless here, and that we are in fact penniless. About midnight she walked in, escorted by two of the convalescent soldiers. Poor fellows! all the soldiers will go who can, but the sick and wounded must be captured. We collected in one room, and tried to comfort one another; we made large pockets and filled them with as many of our valuables as we could suspend from our waists. The gentlemen walked down to the War Office in the night to see what was going on. Alas! every sight and sound was grievous and heavy. [continue reading…]

April 2d.–Bright and beautiful. The tocsin was sounded this morning at daybreak, and the militia ordered to the fortifications, to relieve some regiments of Longstreet’s corps, posted on this side of the river. These latter were hurried off to Petersburg, where a battle is impending, I suppose, if not in progress.

A street rumor says there was bloody fighting yesterday a little beyond Petersburg, near the South Side Road, in which Gen. Pickett’s division met with fearful loss, being engaged with superior numbers. It is said the enemy’s line of intrenchments was carried once or twice, but was retaken, and remained in their hands.

I hear nothing of all this at the department; but the absence of dispatches there is now interpreted as bad news! Certain it is, the marching of veteran troops from the defenses of Richmond, and replacing them hurriedly with militia, can only indicate an emergency of alarming importance. A decisive struggle is probably at hand–and may possibly be in progress while I write. Or there may be nothing in it–more than a precautionary concentration to preserve our communications.

Mrs. Davis sold nearly all her movables–including presents– before leaving the city. She sent them to different stores.

An intense excitement prevails, at 2 P.M. It pervaded the churches. Dr. Hoge intermitted his services. Gen. Cooper and the President left their respective churches, St. James’s and St. Paul’s. Dr. Minnegerode, before dismissing his congregation, gave notice that Gen. Ewell desired the local forces to assemble at 3 P.M.–and afternoon services will not be held. The excited women in this neighborhood say they have learned the city is to be evacuated to-night. [continue reading…]

Sunday, 2d–Regular camp routine is the order. We had company inspection this morning besides two hours’ drill. A great many of us attended church in town this morning, also in the evening.