12th.—A deep gloom has just been thrown over the city by the untimely death of one of its own heroic sons. General John Pegram fell while nobly leading his brigade against the enemy in the neighbourhood of Petersburg. But two weeks before he had been married in St. Paul’s Church, in the presence of a crowd of relatives and friends, to the celebrated Miss H. C., of Baltimore. All was bright and beautiful. Happiness beamed from every eye. Again has St. Paul’s, his own beloved church, been opened to receive the soldier and his bride—the one coffined for a hero’s grave, the other, pale and trembling, though still by his side, in widow’s garb.

Davis Bridge, Rockfish Creek, March 11, 1865.

Ten miles to-day, full seven of which had to be corduroyed. The worst road I ever saw. The 17th corps occupied Fayetteville to-day. The foragers took the place. It is as large as Columbia and has a large arsenal. Heard of two or three men being captured by the Rebels yesterday and a couple today. They also made a little dash on our rear to-day on the 3d division without accomplishing anything. I do wish you could see the crowd of negroes following us. Some say 2,000 with our division. I think fully 1,000.

Saturday, 11th–It is clear again and quite pleasant. We were off at 7 a. m. and marched twelve miles. Went into bivouac within a mile of Fayetteville. Our division had the honor of driving the rebels out of town, but the Fourteenth Corps was placed on garrison duty. All of Sherman’s forces, the four corps, are concentrating at this place to cross the Cape Fear river. Forage is very scarce, the country being so very poor, but we hope soon to strike rich country where we can fill our haversacks.

11th. Saturday. Lay in camp all day. Cleaned up. Two inspections. Bathed and changed my clothes. Details went out for forage. Seemed good to get a day’s rest. Improved it as well as possible with the work to do.

March 11th.–Bright and frosty. From a published correspondence between Gens. Hampton and Sherman, on the subject of retaliatory executions, it is mentioned by the former that the City of Columbia, S. C., was burned by the latter.

Dispatches this morning inform us of some little successes–Hampton over Kilpatrick in the South, and Rosser over a body of the enemy at Harrisonburg, in the North.

Some 1500 prisoners, paroled, arrived this morning–making some 10,000 in the last fortnight. I fear there will soon be a great scarcity of arms, when the negroes are drilled, etc.

Mrs. Hobson, of Goochland County, a relative of my wife, has offered a home to my eldest daughter Anne. Mr. H. is wealthy, and his mansion is magnificent. It is lighted with gas, made on the plantation.

I am often called upon to lend a copy of the “Wild Western Scenes.” My copy is lost. I learn that new editions of my works are published in the United States, where the stereotype plates were deposited. Here, as in old times in the North, the publishers prefer to issue publications upon which they pay no copyright–and, I believe, most of our publishers are not Southern men by birth, and hence have no care but for the profits of the business.

Congress was to adjourn to-day. But it is said the President has requested them to remain a short time longer, as further legislation will be required growing out of a treaty with France, about to be consummated. It is said as alliance has been agreed upon, offensive and defensive, etc. etc. If this should be true! It is but rumor yet–but was first mentioned, gravely, by Judge Campbell, Assistant Secretary of War.

11th.—Sheridan’s raid through the country is perfectly awful, and he has joined Grant, without being caught. Oh, how we listened to hear that he had been arrested in his direful career! It was, I suppose, the most cruel and desolating raid upon record—more lawless, if possible, than Hunter’s. He had an overwhelming force, spreading ruin through the Upper Valley, the Piedmont country, the tide-water country, until he reached Grant. His soldiers were allowed to commit any cruelty on non-combatants that suited their rapacious tempers—stealing every thing they could find; ear-rings, breastpins, and finger-rings were taken from the first ladies of the land; nothing escaped them which was worth carrying off from the already desolated country. And can we feel patient at the idea of such soldiers coming to Richmond, the target at which their whole nation, from their President to the meanest soldier upon their army-rolls, has been aiming for four years? Oh, I would that I could see Richmond burnt to the ground by its own people, with not one brick left upon another, before its defenceless inhabitants should be subjected to such degradation!

Fighting is still going on; so near the city, that the sound of cannon is ever in our ears. Farmers are sending in produce which they cannot spare, but which they give with a spirit of self-denial rarely equalled. Ladies are offering their jewelry, their plate, any thing which can be converted into money, for the country. I have heard some of them declare, that, if necessary, they will cut off their long suits of hair, and send them to Paris to be sold for bread for the soldiers; and there is not a woman, worthy of the name of Southerner, who would not do it, if we could get it out of the country, and bread or meat in return. Some gentlemen are giving up their watches, when every thing else has been given. A colonel of our army was seen the other night, after a stirring appeal had been made for food for the soldiers, to approach the speaker’s stand with his watch in his hand, saying: “I have no money, nor provisions; my property was ruined by Hunter’s raid last summer; my watch is very dear to me from association, but it must be sold for bread.” Remembering, as he put it down, that it had been long worn by his wife, now dead, though not a man who liked or approved of scenes, he obeyed the affectionate impulse of his heart, took it up quickly, kissed it, and replaced it on the table.

Randallsville, N. C., March 10, 1865, 12 p.m.

Ten miles to-day, most of which we had to corduroy. Our regiment in rear of the division and corps. Crossed the Lumber river about 4 p.m. Fine country. We had reveille at 3 this morning, and the rear of train with our 1st brigade did not get in until an hour later. They had a hard time. Hope we’ll get the advance to-morrow. This Lumber river is a spoon river, with a third of a mile of swamp on each side thereof. Hear to-night that Grant has taken Petersburg, and believe it to be—bosh. Blair, with the 17th A. C., is close to Fayetteville, but it is said he has orders to lie still and let the left wing enter the town.

Friday, 10th–Started on our march again at 7 a. m. and made twelve miles today. It is still raining and the creeks and swamps are all overflowing. There was no show of keeping our clothing dry, for besides the rain, we had to wade some thirteen creeks and sloughs, some of them waist deep. This is a most God-forsaken stretch of country, and there is only now and then a small farm. I can’t understand how anybody could live here; in fact, the citizens have all left their homes.

10th. Moved on to Columbia at the junction of the Rivanna and James. Pleasant day–bad roads. Went into camp and sent out forage detail. Got plenty of forage and subsistence. Very wealthy plantation. Large number of negroes. Canal thoroughly destroyed.

March 10th.–Raining and cold. This is the day appointed by the government for prayer, fasting, etc.; and the departments, shops, etc. are closed. The people, notwithstanding the bad weather, pretty generally proceeded to the churches, which will be open morning, noon, and night, for it is a solemn occasion, and thousands will supplicate Almighty God to be pleased to look upon us with compassion, and aid us, in this hour of extremity, to resist the endeavors of our enemies to reduce us to bondage.

The morning papers contain a dispatch from Lee, giving an account of a successful battle in North Carolina. I append it, as the first success chronicled for a great length of time.

“Headquarters, Etc., March 9th, 1865.

“Hon. J. C. Breckinridge, Secretary of War.

“Gen. Bragg reports that he attacked the enemy, yesterday, four miles in front of Kinston, and drove him from his position. He disputed the ground obstinately, and took up a new line three miles from his first.

“We captured 3 pieces of artillery and 1500 prisoners.

“The number of the enemy’s dead and wounded left on the field is large. Ours comparatively small.

“The troops behaved most handsomely, and Major-Gens. Hill and Hoke exhibited their usual zeal and energy.

“R. E. Lee.”

March 10th.–Went to church crying to Ellen, “It is Lent, we must fast and pray.” When I came home my good fairy, Colonel Childs, had been here bringing rice and potatoes, and promising flour. He is a trump. He pulled out his pocket-book and offered to be my banker. He stood there on the street, Miss Middleton and Isabella witnessing the generous action, and straight out offered me money. “No, put up that,” said I. “I am not a beggar, and I never will be; to die is so much easier.”

Alas, after that flourish of trumpets, when he came with a sack of flour, I accepted it gratefully. I receive things I can not pay for, but money is different. There I draw a line, imaginary perhaps. Once before the same thing happened. Our letters of credit came slowly in 1845, when we went unexpectedly to Europe and our letters were to follow us. I was a poor little, inoffensive bride, and a British officer, who guessed our embarrassment, for we did not tell him (he came over with us on the ship), asked my husband to draw on his banker until the letters of credit should arrive. It was a nice thing for a stranger to do.

We have never lost what we never had. We have never had any money–only unlimited credit, for my husband’s richest kind of a father insured us all manner of credit. It was all a mirage only at last, and it has gone just as we drew nigh to it.

Colonel Childs says eight of our Senators are for reconstruction, and that a ray of light has penetrated inward from Lincoln, who told Judge Campbell that Southern land would not be confiscated.

March 10.—Still we go on as heretofore, hoping and praying that Richmond may be safe. Before Mr. Hunter (Hon. R. M. T.) left Richmond, I watched his countenance whenever I heard the subject mentioned before him, and though he said nothing, I thought he looked sad. I know that he understands the situation of affairs perfectly, and I may have fancied the sad look, but I think not; and whenever it arises before my mind’s eye, it makes me unhappy. I imagine, too, from a conversation which I had with Mr. Secretary Mallory, that he fears much for Richmond. Though it was an unexpressed opinion, yet I fear that I understood it rightly. I know that we ought to feel that whatever General Lee and the President deem right for the cause must be right, and that we should be satisfied that all will be well; but it would almost break my heart to see this dear old city, with its hallowed associations, given over to the Federals. Fearful orders have been given in the offices to keep the papers packed, except such as we are working on. The packed boxes remain in the front room, as if uncertainty still existed about moving them. As we walk in every morning, all eyes are turned to the boxes to see if any have been removed, and we breathe more freely when we find them still there.

To-day I have spent in the hospital, and was very much interested in our old Irishman. He has been there for more than two years; first as a patient sent from Drury’s Bluff, with ague and fever. Though apparently long past the military age, he had enlisted as a soldier in a Georgia regiment, but it was soon discovered that he was physically unable to stand camp-life; he was therefore detailed to work in the gardens, which supplied the soldiers at the Bluff with vegetables. He got well, and returned to his post, but [continue reading…]

Four miles south of Montpelier, N. C.,

March 9, 1865.

Rained nearly all last night and poured down all day. Our regiment had the advance of the division, but we followed J. E. Smith. He is the poorest traveler in the army. We had to corduroy all the road after him. Only made four miles. I never saw such a country. There seems to be a thin crust over a vast bed of quicksand. I saw wagons yesterday and to-day moving along not cutting more than two inches, all at once go down to the hub, and some to the wagon boxes. I was riding to-night on apparently high ground in the woods and three times the ground gave way just like rotten ice, and let my horse in belly deep. We have worked hard to-day.

Thursday, 9th–It is still raining. The army started at 8 a. m. Companies C, D and E of the Eleventh Iowa were sent back to town on provost guard, to see that nothing was burned, until the First Division should come up. Our division is on the main road. The First and Third Divisions are on roads to our right, and the Fifteenth Corps is off on our left. We marched twelve miles today.

9th. Moved out in the morning at 6. My Batt. in the extreme advance. Passed Howardsville and Scottsville and camped at Hardware River bridge. Travelled down the tow path mostly. Rain at night.

March 9th. All is quiet. Our regiment voted for governor today. Ballots sealed in envelopes, to be opened in Connecticut on the day of election. Commissioners here to receive the ballots. We hope our war governor, Buckingham, will be re-elected.

March 9th.–Rained all night; clearing away this morning. Warm. Nothing positive from Sherman, Grant, or Sheridan. The enemy’s papers say Gen. Early and 18,000 men were captured–which is nonsense.

Yesterday the Senate passed the Negro troops bill–Mr. Hunter voting for it under instructions.

The enemy did capture or destroy the tobacco sent to Fredericksburg by the speculators to exchange for bacon–and 31 cars were burned. No one regrets this, so far as the speculators are concerned.

Letters from North Carolina state that the country is swarming with deserters–perhaps many supposed to be deserters are furloughed soldiers just exchanged. It is stated that there are 800 in Randolph County, committing depredations on the rich farmers, etc.; and that the quartermaster and commissary stores at Greensborough are threatened.

Meal is selling at $2 per pound, or $100 per bushel, to-day. Bacon, $13 per pound.

Two P.M. Cloudy, and prospect of more rain. It is quite warm.

A great many officers are here on leave from Lee’s army–all operations being, probably, interdicted by the mud and swollen streams. Sheridan failed to cross to the south side of James River, it being certainly his intention to cross and form a junction with Grant, cutting the Danville and South Side Roads on his way.

I saw Mr. Benjamin to-day without his usual smile. He is not at ease. The country demands a change of men in the cabinet, and he is the most obnoxious of all.

Again, there is a rumor of peace negotiations. All men know that no peace can be negotiated except for reconstruction–and, I suppose, emancipation.

Five miles north of Laurenburg, N. C., Laurel Hill,

March 8, 1865.

One hundred and twelve miles of steady rain, and the best country since we left Central Georgia. Looks real Northern like. Small farms and nice white, tidy dwellings. Wheat fields look very well. In the cornfields rows are five feet apart, and one stalk the size of a candle, in a hill. But at every house there were from 200 to 1,000 bushels of corn and an abundance of fodder. Sherman said yesterday that our campaign is over, and to-day Howard issued an order that all foraging for provisions shall cease, there being enough rations in the wagons to last us through. I dreamed last night of being at home on leave and seeing you all, and starting back to the army again. Only 90 miles yet to mail.

Wednesday, 8th–We started at 9 a. m. and marched seventeen miles, going into camp for the night at Floral College, North Carolina. It rained all day and the roads became very muddy. The First Brigade on guard with the supply trains is in camp about six miles in the rear. We entered the state of North Carolina about 10 a. m. and received orders that there should be no burning of property; that any soldier caught in the act of starting a fire should be shot on the spot.^[1]

[1] This was a proper order, for the war was about over, and the order was generally respected.—A. G. D.

8th. In advance of train. Turned towards the river. Went by Arrington Station to New Market at the junction of the Tye and James rivers. Met the 1st Div. which went up the river from Charlottesville. Rainy night.

March 8th.–Damp and foggy. We have no military news yet–9 a.m.

President Lincoln’s short inaugural message, or homily, or sermon, has been received. It is filled with texts from the Bible. He says both sides pray to the same God for aid–one upholding and the other destroying African slavery. If slavery be an offense,–and woe shall fall upon those by whom offenses come,–perhaps not only all the slaves will be lost, but all the accumulated products of their labor be swept away. In short, he “quotes Scripture for the deed” quite as fluently as our President; and since both Presidents resort to religious justification, it may be feared the war is about to assume a more sanguinary aspect and a more cruel nature than ever before. God help us! The history of man, even in the Bible, is but a series of bloody wars. It must be thus to make us appreciate the blessings of peace, and to bow in humble adoration of the great Father of all. The Garden of Eden could not yield contentment to man, nor heaven satisfy all the angels.

It is said the enemy have left Fredericksburg–bought all the tobacco, I suppose.

To-day the State made distribution in this city of cotton cloth, three yards to each member of a family, at $5.50 for 7-8 and $6.25 for 4-4 width. The State paid about $3 per yard for it, and the profits make a portion of its revenue, or, perhaps, the revenue of its officers and agents. Nevertheless, there was a large crowd, and one man fainted. The shops sell at $12 to $15 per yard.

Raining at 12 M. All quiet below.

Another report of the defeat of Sherman is current to-day, and believed by many.

March 8th.–Colonel Childs came with a letter from my husband and a newspaper containing a full account of Sherman’s cold-blooded brutality in Columbia. Then we walked three miles to return the call of my benefactress, Mrs. McDaniel. They were kind and hospitable at her house, but my heart was like lead; my head ached, and my legs were worse than my head, and then I had a nervous chill. So I came home, went to bed and stayed there until the Fants brought me a letter saying my husband would be here today. Then I got up and made ready to give him a cheerful reception. Soon a man called, Troy by name, the same who kept the little corner shop so near my house in Columbia, and of whom we bought things so often. We had fraternized. He now shook hands with me and looked in my face pitifully. We seemed to have been friends all our lives. He says they stopped the fire at the Methodist College, perhaps to save old Mr. McCartha’s house. Mr. Sheriff Dent, being burned out, took refuge in our house. He contrived to find favor in Yankee eyes. Troy relates that a Yankee officer snatched a watch from Mrs. McCord’s bosom. The soldiers tore the bundles of clothes that the poor wretches tried to save from their burning homes, and dashed them back into the flames. They meant to make a clean sweep. They were howling round the fires like demons, these Yankees in their joy and triumph at our destruction. Well, we have given them a big scare and kept them miserable for four years–the little handful of us.

A woman we met on the street stopped to tell us a painful coincidence. A general was married but he could not stay at home very long after the wedding. When his baby was born they telegraphed him, and he sent back a rejoicing answer with an inquiry, “Is it a boy or a girl?” He was killed before he got the reply. Was it not sad? His poor young wife says, “He did not live to hear that his son lived.” The kind woman added, sorrowfully, “Died and did not know the secret of his child.” “Let us hope it will be a Methodist,” said Isabella, the irrepressible.

At the venison feast Isabella heard a good word for me and one for General Chesnut’s air of distinction, a thing people can not give themselves, try as ever they may. Lord Byron says, Everybody knows a gentleman when he sees one, and nobody can tell what it is that makes a gentleman. He knows the thing, but he can’t describe it. Now there are some French words that can not be translated, and we all know the thing they mean–gracieuse and svelte, for instance, as applied to a woman. Not that anything was said of me like that–far from it. I am fair, fat, forty, and jolly, and in my unbroken jollity, as far as they know, they found my charm. “You see, she doesn’t howl; she doesn’t cry; she never, never tells anybody about what she was used to at home and what she has lost.” High praise, and I intend to try and deserve it ever after.

Goodwin’s Mills, 16 miles northwest of Cheraw,

March 7, 1865.

About 11 miles to-day and in camp at noon. The 14th and 20th had come down and cross at Cheraw. We are waiting on them. That expedition to Florence was a failure. Our men got the town but were driven out before they destroyed a thing. I am inclined to think the officers did not do their whole duty. They should have succeeded or lost more blood. Our loss amounted to nothing. One of the best foraging days of the whole trip. Our foragers to-day captured some negroes and horses. The negroes say they were running them over here to get away from General “Schofield’s company.” We are about on the State line now, and will leave S. C. to-morrow. I think she has her “rights” now. I don’t hate her any more.

Tuesday, 7th–Weather is still pleasant. We started at 9 a. m. and marching eight miles, went into bivouac for the night. This is a fine country and we found plenty of forage again today. Negroes are putting in the crops, mostly corn. We saw some fine fields of winter wheat. There is very little cotton put in here.