War-Time Letters
From
Seth Rogers, M.D.
Surgeon of the First South Carolina
Afterwards the Thirty-third U.S.C.T.
1862-1863.

Dr. Seth Rogers, from whose letters the following extracts are made, was one of the early practitioners of “water-cure” in America. He conducted a water cure establishment in Worcester, Mass., for many years. Afterward, he practiced medicine as a regular physician and belonged to the Mass., Medical Society.

After his return from the South he retired from active practice and resided on a beautiful farm in Pomfret, Conn., but, up to the time of his death, he usually had one or more chronic invalids in his household for whom he cared, and many obstinate cases were successfully treated.

He was a large-hearted and exceptionally pure minded man whose acquaintance and friendship were highly prized by all who knew him.

He was born in Danby, Rutland County, Vermont, February 13, 1823; died in Pomfret, Ct., August 6, 1893; married May 30, 1843, Hannah, daughter of Jethro F. and Anne (Gould) Mitchell, born December 27, 1819; died September 24, 1889.

Their only living child, Isabel Rogers, born January 2, 1855, in Worcester, Mass., resides (1903) in Pomfret, Ct., and by her permission these letters have been copied by her cousin, James S. Rogers, late captain in the First South Carolina (afterwards 33d U.S.C.T.)

Extracts From Letters Of Dr. Seth Rogers,
Surgeon of the First South Carolina Volunteers.

Camp Saxon,
Beaufort, S.C.
December 27, 1862.

There is a little more of solid reality in this work of camp life than I have found in any previous experience. You remember my delight in the life of ship surgeon, when I had three hundred and fifty of the lowest Irish to care for. Multiply that delight by ten and you will approximate to what I get among these children of the tropics. A more childlike, jovial, devotional, musical, shrewd, amusing, set of beings never lived. Be true to them and they will be devoted to you. I leave all of my things in tent unguarded and at loose ends as I could never think of doing in a white regiment, and if I ever lose anything you shall be informed. Their religious devotion is more natural than any I ever witnessed. At this moment the air is full of melody from the tents, of prayer and hymns mingled with the hearty yah, yah, of the playful outsiders.

Last night I had too many business letters to get off in today’s mail to allow me time for writing half of what I wished, and since then I have lived so long that much has been lost in the ages.

I want, once and for all, to say that Col. Higginson is splendid- pardon the McClellan word,- beyond even my anticipation, which, you know, has for years been quite exalted. I stood by General Saxon- who is a West Pointer- the other night, witnessing the dress parade and was delighted to hear him say that he knew of no other man who could have magically brought these blacks under the military discipline that makes our camp one of the most enviable. Should we by possibility ever increase to a brigade I can already foresee that our good Colonel is destined to be the Brigadier General.

I am about selecting my orderly from among the privates just now a Lieutenant brought little “Charlie” before me; a boy of fourteen or fifteen, who saw shot at Hilton Head without weeping over it; who had some of his own teeth knocked out at the same time. He has always taken care of his master and knows so many things that I shall probably avail myself of his bright eyes and willing hands. We have had an old uncle “Tiff”, whom I should take if I had the time and strength to wait upon him when he [ahould] get too tired to wait upon me. He is a dear old man who prays day and night.

I have forgotten whether I have written that the mocking- bird sings by day and the cricket by night. To me it is South America over again. The live oak grows to enormous size. Today I made thirty of my longest paces across the diameter of the branches of one of these handsome trees. The beautiful gray moss pendent everywhere from its branches gave the most decided impression of fatherliness and age.

Co. H. kindly invited James and me to mess with him and the Adjutant- thus we have a pleasant little table under the supervision of “William and Hattie”, in an old home house just outside of camp. I am yet sharing the young captain’s tent, but in a day or two shall have my own pitched. – We are not more than fifty rods from the shore. Our landing is remarkable for its old fort, built of shells and cement in 16—by Jean Paul de la Ribaudiere. Its preservation is almost equal to the monuments perpetuated by Roman cement.

The chance for wild game here is excellent, and in anticipation I enjoy it much, while in reality I doubt whether I shall ever find time for such recreation, and actual profit to our stomachs. It is not very easy for us to get fresh meat here, but we shall not suffer, because oysters are plentiful and fresh.

Our Chaplain is a great worker, and has a good influence over the soldiers, I presume Mr. Wasson knows him,- Mr. Fowler, who was, not long ago at Cambridge.

My first assistant surgeon is Dr. Hawks of Manchester, N.H. He is a radical anti- slavery man, somewhat older than I, and has a large medical experience and in addition has been hospital surgeon at Beaufort during several months. He has been rigidly examined by three regimental surgeons from New England and they have given him a very flattering certificate of qualification. I consider myself fortunate in having a man so well fitted for the place. The men and officers like him and I fancy will take to him quite as much as to me. The second assistant is not yet decided upon, but will probably be a young man who has already been several months in the army. The hospital steward has also had experience. All this accumulation of army experience around me makes me feel particularly green, but I guess I can work up to the sticking point. It is ever so much easier for me than to go in with green hands.

December 31, 1862

I examine from sixty to eighty men every morning and make prescriptions for those who need them. Doing this and visiting those in the hospital, usually keeps me busy from breakfast to dinner, after that my assistants can “see care” ordinarily of everybody till next morning. My afternoons are almost equally busy in contriving ways to keep the soldiers from getting sick, improving my hospital, etc. We have to make everything as we go on. The hospital is the upper floor of an old cotton gin building. I had the machinery moved and bedsteads made, beds made and filled with the dry, course grass that the soldiers brought on their heads from the plains, and eight sick men were put in there last Tuesday. It was a hard day’s work, but the men were very sick and I had all the help that could work in the building. We have no such thing as pillows or sheets, but we have plenty of blankets, and the knapsacks answer nicely for pillows. Dr. Hawks had already got a good fire- place in the room and now everything is as systematic, and almost as comfortable, as in any hospital. -------------- Some of our officers and men have been off and captured some oxen, and today all hands have been getting ready for a great barbecue, which we are to have tomorrow. They have killed ten oxen which are now being roasted whole over great pits containing live coals made from burning logs in them.

January 1, 1863

This is the evening of the most eventful day of my life. Our barbeque was a most wonderful success. Two steamboats came loaded with people from Beaufort, St. Helena Island and Hilton Head. Among the visitors were some of my new acquaintances, My friend, Mr. Hall of the voyage Delaware, But the dearest friend I found among them was Miss Forten, whom you remember. She is a teacher of the freed children on St. Helena Island. Gen Saxton and his father and others came from Beaufort, and several cavalry officers hovered around the outskirts of our multitude of black soldiers and civilians, and in the centre of all was the speakers’ stand where the General and our Colonel and some others, with the band, performed the ceremonies of the day. Several good speeches were made, but the most impressive scene was that which occurred at the presentation of the Dr. Cheever flag to our regiment. After the presentation speech had been made, and just as Col. Higginson advanced to take the flag and respond, a negro woman standing near began to sing “America”, and soon many voices of freedmen and women joined in the beautiful hymn, and sang it so touchingly that every one was thrilled beyond measure. Nothing could have been more unexpected or more inspiring. The President’s proclamation and General Saxton’s New Year’s greeting had been read, and this spontaneous outburst of love and loyalty to a country that has heretofore so terribly wronged these blacks, was the birth of a new hope in the honesty of her intention. I most earnestly trust they not hope in vain.

Col. H. was so much inspired by the remarkable thought of, and singing of, the hymn that he made one of his most effective speeches. Then came Gen. Saxton with a most earnest and brotherly speech to the blacks and then Mrs. Frances D. Gage, and finally all joined in the John Brown hymn, and then to dinner. A hundred things of interest occurred which I have not time to relate. Everybody was happy in the bright sunshine, and in the great hope. The ten oxen were hearty relish and barrels of molasses and water and vinegar and ginger were drunk to wash them down. Mr. Hall, Miss Forten and some others took dinner with us.

January 2, 1863

I did not observe any reporters at our barbeque yesterday, but I presume some of the journals will contain enough to make it unnecessary for me to write more than my letter of yesterday. I will, however, reiterate the statement that it was the most eventful day of my life. To know what I mean you must stand in the midst of the disenthralled and feel the inspiration of their birth into freedom. For once I heartily cheered for stars and stripes. There is nothing in history more touching and beautiful than the spontaneous outburst of these freed men and women just at the moment when out gallant colonel was receiving the flag of the regiment. None of us had ever heard them sing America, and the most infinite depth and tenderness of “My country ‘tis of thee Sweet land of Liberty,” was inspiring to the last degree. I doubt if our Col. Ever spoke so well and he justly attributed inspiration to the unexpected singing of the hymn.

Evening Jan. 3, 1863

We are having summer days and October nights, with the white frost covering the sand of our camp- ground in the morning.

I wish I could send you a photograph of my orderly. I had my choice of a boy from the regiment and selected Wiley Rohan, a shining black boy of fifteen, with handsome eyes, and teeth so perfect and beautiful that I always like to see his smiling face. He is very bright and tractable, with great fund of active willingness. I questioned him relative to the difference between an orderly and a servant, and found him entirely posted, but when I asked if he preferred I should get another boy, who had not enlisted, for my servant, to having extra compensation himself for doing the little things needful for me, he at once decided to fill the two positions. I doubt not we shall get greatly attached to each other. He knows all about managing a boat, has taken care of a horse and has also been taught to cook.

From what I have heretofore written I hope you have not inferred that our regiment is made up of saints. Now and then a soldier among us is not as much superior in morals to members of a white regiment. The principle crime here is that of desertion. Today we have had a melancholy result of which will be likely to exert a salutary influence upon the regiment.

Serg’t Rivers, our Provost Sergeant, is as black as the ace of spades and a man of remarkable executive ability. He is the one from whom some Philadelphia soldiers attempted to strip the sergeants’ stripes and found wiser and safer to leave him alone. It is his duty here to keep the prisoners at work and yesterday afternoon he left them cutting wood outside the camp while he was at dress parade. Three escaped in spite of the two soldiers who were guarding them. It was already sunset when he started with an armed posse to search for them and as the Col. and I walked out a mile from the camp, it seemed to us impossible that search could avail anything in a country so level and so filled with woodland jungle. But about noon today the party returned with one prisoner in a cart, fatally wounded by a gunshot in the abdomen. The poor fellow would not halt at command and in consequence must linger out a few hours of mortal suffering. This sad contingency of military discipline seems to me just, but falling as it does upon a member of that race so long denied common justice by my own, I cannot help feeling a peculiar sadness about it. Serg’t Rivers is off again with twenty eight men, in search of the others. I most earnestly hope that if found they will surrender. The feeling through the regiment in regard to the fatal result is that the deserter received his just punishment.

Sunday, Jan. 4, 1863.

The poor fellow who was shot yesterday died at sunset this evening. His desertion and its consequences made an impressive text for the religious services today. We had service in the grove, using our New Year’ platform for the pulpit and the officers, while the soldiers and women and children, under the live oaks with their pendant mosses, made the missionary pictures seem almost respectable. I doubt, however, whether the American Board of Foreign Missions ever instructed their missionaries to preach the radical doctrines of human brotherhood taught in our camp. Brotherhood in Christ and brotherhood on earth are not always the same in practice.---

My young orderly, who should be named Ariel, remarked today that he had all his life been accustomed to take his master’s family out in a boat, till one day he thought he would take his own family off in the same way. He is from Florida.

Jan. 6, 1863.

For the first time in the six weeks Colonel H. has been in camp, he to-day went to Beaufort. He returns with a more civilized air and informs me that there are yet many people outside our camp. The rebel pickets above came down to the river bank this morning and announced that an armistice had been agreed upon for six months and therefore laid aside their guns and sat on the bank, fishing. Their statement is not credited because nobody believes the insanity of the nation has taken such a disasterous turn.

I am steadily becoming acquainted with very remarkable men whose lives in slavery and whose heroism in getting out of it, deepens my faith in negro character and intellect. The difference in physiognomy among them now seems to me quite as marked as among the whites and the physiognomy of their diseases is quite apparent to me.

Jan. 9, 1863.

This morning, the adjutant and I, with eight oarsmen, went down to Hilton Head in our surf boat, The distance cannot be far from twelve miles and the trip is a charming one, though the shores are wanting in those rugged qualities which help to make the difference in character between the North and the South. Our black soldiers sang as they rowed- not the songs of common sailors- but hymns of praise mingled with those pathetic longings for a better world, so constant with these people. There are times when I could quite enjoy more earthly songs from them, even a touch of the wicked, but this generation must live and die in sadness. The sun can never shine for them as for a nation of freemen whose fathers were not slaves.

My special business in going to Hilton Head was to test the honesty of a certain medical purveyor, who does not incline to honor the requisitions of the surgeon of the 1st Reg. S.C.Vol’s. He has not yet heard of the popularity of black regiments, but Uncle Samuel will teach him that, as well as a few other things. But it will be too late for him to repent in this world when he shall have learned the lesson.

The flora- Gen Saxton’s steamer- came down from Beaufort and we were towed by her to our camp. I met the General on the steamer and was delighted to find him in that mood over the purveyor’s second refusal, which will work out a line of retributive justice. He read to me a letter just received by him from Secretary Stanton, which authorizes me to draw direct from New York. So we shall be all right within two weeks, I hope. In addition to all my other duties, I should be quite like to prescribe for some of those pro-slavery scamps who disgrace the federal shoulder-straps. This particular case was polite enough to me, for which I was sorry. When Gen Hunter gets here there will be a bowing and scraping to the anti-slavery men that awaken wickedness in my heart.

I keep in capital working condition. My tent is up and I shall be in it as soon as I get time to “move”.

Jan. 10, 1863.

I have been here two and a half weeks and still am occupying James’s tent, so little time have I far found for getting own readiness.

I am just now busy in trying to discover the causes of such an excess of pleurisy and pneumonia in our camp, as compared with white regiments. Thus far I can only get the reiteration of the fact that negroes are more subject to these diseases than are the whites. I should be very sorry to find that their nightly “praise meetings”, or “shouts”, acted an important role in the development of these diseases, yet, thus far, our gravest cases are the most religious. It would be a sad but curious coincidence, if while the Colonel and young captain are diligently taking notes of the songs and hymns of the soldiers, the surgeon should note a marked fatality resulting from this sweet religious expression. We shall see. It is as difficult to inculcate temperance in religion here, among these sun- burned children, as to introduce it into a Methodist camp- meeting. I hope we shall not have to shut in religious expression by military rules.

Speaking of coincidences, reminds me that I found the steward, this morning, putting up prescriptions in bits of the “Liberator”. I don’t believe Mr. Garrison’s editorials ever before came so near these black soldiers. I wondered if the powers would not have some magic power conveyed to them. South Carolina is getting a simultaneous doctoring of body and soul.

Sunday Evening, Jan. 11, 1863.

At service today the President’s proclamation was read and the Colonel asked all who wanted to fight for liberty, to say “I”: The response would have satisfied greater enthusiasts then uncle Abraham.

I have lost more than one hour’s sleep since coming here, listening to the coughing of the soldiers in the night and trying to contrive plans to meet the more obvious causes. In a climate so damp and with change of temperature so great between midday and midnight, I have steadily felt the importance of some means by which the soldier’s A tents could, with their clothing, be more effectually dried and purified than is ordinarily done by the sun. To have a fire in a tent 7 x 8 for four men, without fireplace, stove or even an opening in the top, did not seem quite feasible, but we are trying in James’s and one other company, an experiment which is likely to prove a success. Remembering the antiseptic influence of wood smoke, and also the primitive cabins from which many of our people came, we have, this evening, had fires built in the centre of the tents, the floor boards in the middle being removed and a hole being dug in the sand for the fuel. The soldiers enjoy this scheme. After the smoke ceases, the beds of coals make the tents seem very cozy. The Colonel is not backward in favoring every hygienic measure that offers any good to the soldiers. A few days experiment with two companies will settle the question by comparison of sick lists.

Monday Evening, Jan. 12, 1863.

Tonight I am seated in my own tent, and my orderly is patiently practicing on a copy of his name on the other side of my little hard pine table. I have a double tent, two joined, with a rough floor elevated about a foot from the sand and open at the sides so that the wind can whistle under, as well as over, my two rooms. These rooms are each nine feet square and parted by the folds of the two tents. I have room enough for a large family and it seems wrong that I should have so much, while those little 7 x 8 tents of the soldiers, literally steam with four bodies in them. But with the clothing allowed by Government, they could never be comfortable alone at night. On the whole, I like these little tents for soldiers better then those which receive a larger number. I see no way of isolating soldiers into decency. The unnatural life must, of course, have a few material comforts. On the other hand the out of door life compensates for many violations of wholesome laws. I find our officers universally gaining flesh.--- Instead of a fireplace, I have found a little stove, with so much draft that I can have all the front open and thus get the light which makes a tent so pleasant a social. We have a little, select euchre parties, now and then. It is to be regretted that the Colonel’s education does not extend beyond whist.

Jan. 13, 1863.

When I sit down at evening it always seems as if there could be but ones subject to write upon, the music of these religious soldiers, who sing and pray steadily from supper time till “taps”, at 8:30 interrupted only by roll call at eight. The chaplain’s pagoda- like school house is the scene of earnest prayers and hymns at evening. I am sure the President is remembered more faithfully and gratefully in prayer by these Christian soldiers than by any other regiment in the army. It is one thing for a chaplain to pray for him, but quite another for the soldiers to kneel and implore blessings on his head and divine guidance for the officers placed over them,- such prayers ought to make us true to them.

This afternoon, for the first time, our men are getting some money- not direct from the Government, but through that constant friend to them- Gen. Saxton, who waits for Government to refund it to him. The real drawback to enlistments is that the poor fellows who were in the Hunter regiment have never been paid a cent by the Government. Without reflection, one would suppose the offer of freedom quite sufficient for them to join us. But you must remember that not the least curse of slavery is ignorance and that the intellectual enjoyment of freedom cannot, by the present generation, be so fully appreciated as its material gifts and benefits. Just think how few there are, even in New England, who could bravely die for and Idea, you will see that the infinite love of freedom which inspires these people is not the same that fills the heart of a more favored race.

Evening, Jan 14, 1863.

My tent is so comfortable and attractive that I never felt more at home anywhere in my life. It is my castle and its this walls are to me as good as granite. The Lord only knows how many good things we all the time lose by not having enough exposure to hinderence to sharpen our wits. I can now see plainly enough that the most delightful way to live at the sea- shore or among the mountains, in the summer, is to have at night only canvass walls between you and the bracing air and beautiful scenes you seek. Then just think of a tempest that shall make your frail tenement tremble like a bark at sea, and you in the sweet realization of how little space there is between you and the messengers of God.

Before breakfast this morning I stood on the shore and listened to the John Brown hymn, sung by a hundred of our recruits, as they came up the river on the steamer Boston, from St. Augustine, Fla. Our Lieut. Col. Billings went down last week for them and today we have received into our regiment all but five, whom I rejected in consequence of old age and other disabilities. It seemed hard to reject men who came to fight for their freedom, but these poor fellows are a hinderance in active service and we might be compelled to leave them to the mercy of those who that “It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.”

I wish you could see how finely the Colonel appears in my dress coat. His was sent from Worcester quite a time before I left New England, but has never reached him. Very likely some miserable colonel of a poor white regiment appropriated it. I pity those who get so demoralized by association and wish they could have the benefit of our higher code. As I am less for ornament than for use here, I offered my coat to the Col., and was glad to find that Theo. Had applied his “celestial principle under the arms”, so that a Beaufort tailor could easily make an exact fit for the upper sphere. To sick soldiers it is unimportant whether I have one or two rows of buttons and my handsome straps fit just as well on my fatigue coat as on the other.

Jan. 15, 1863.

Last night I wrote something about the beauties of tent life, tonight I might say something of its adventures. All night the wind blew furiously and all day the fine sand has drifted like snow. The rocking of the tent has been like a ship in a storm at sea and I heard one actually complaining of a sea sickness, in consequence. All day I have prayed for rain, and at this moment it is pouring like mad. Ah! Is it not charming to sit here and bid defiance to the raging storm. I can now fully understand what Thoreau meant when he enjoyed the wild apple that tasted as a squash bug smells, while he felt it a triumph to have eaten it. All the wild in me is called forth by this life and I enjoy it intensely, not because it is easy, but because it is triumphant. Had I time I could write volumes on the merits of Indian tanned buffalo robes in Dixie. The more the wind searches my tent at night the more closely my shaggy friend clings to me and protects me from harm. ----

Between midnight and morning, while I was dreaming of a magnificent storm on the ocean, I was awakened by a pitiful outcry as if one was being murdered in the rear of my tent. Several voices joined and then the sentinel screamed for the corporal of the guard, and finally it all ended in a low laugh. I put my pistol back under my head and went to sleep again. Today I learned that the Commissary Serg’t had the nightmare and two or three others caught the fright and fancied Secesh after them.

My second assistant has come,- Dr. Miner- a young man whom I was fearful we should not get. I feel peculiarly blessed in having assistants who are honest and trustworthy, but of such different practical attainments that, putting us three together, we make quite a strong team.

Jan 16, evening.

All night the wind blew a gale, with an occasional dash of rain to increase the interest. While I slept better than usual I am sorry to say that three tents were blown down, one of which contained a sick man. The wind finally came from the N.W. and today we found our coats none too warm. The sky has been beautiful in the extreme, like that of early summer, when the clouds are full of promise. At this moment the camp resounds with the John Brown hymn, sung as no white regiment can sing it, so full of harmony. I know you all think me over enthusiastic about these people, but every one of you would be equally so, if here. Every day deepens my conviction that if we are true to them they will be true to us. The Col. arrives at the same conclusion. When I think of their long suffering at the hands of the whites, and then of their readiness to forgive, I feel reverence for the race that I did not know before coming among them. You need not fancy that I find them perfect: it had not been my fortune to find mortals of that type,- even in Worcester,- but I do find them, as a people, religious, kind hearted, forgiving and as truth loving as the average of whites, more so than the Irish of the lowest rank.

Jan 17, Evening.

This has been a triumphant day for our regiment. We have marched to Beaufort and back in such style as to turn jeers into admiration, and tonight our men are full of music and delight. The Colonel, not content with marching the whole length of the front street, actually stopped on the parade ground and drilled the regiment an hour or more and then they marched home to the music of their own voices. The different encampments at Beaufort had large delegations by the way- side, as we entered the town, and we were greeted with such language as pertains to vulgat negro haters. Our men were apparently indifferent to it and the officers could afford to wait in silence. I fell back to the rear with the major and was constantly delighted at the manly bearing of our soldiers. Not a head was turned to the right or left- not a word spoken. At length a white soldier struck a black man, not our regiment, and the poor fellow appealing to us, we wheeled our horses upon the rabble, and Major Strong, with drawn sword pursued the offender, with the point of that instrument a little nearer than the follows back than seemed wholesome. I have rarely seen one more thoroughly frightened. The effectiveness was magical, no more audible sneers. But wasn’t it good to march our regiment proudly in front of those mansions where two years ago chivalry were plotting something as strange, but quite unlike.

January 18, Sunday Evening

Such a transparent day and cool north wind makes even South Carolina endurable, while it lasts, I mean. When General Hunter gets here we expect to nullify the state.

In white regiments, where the sick list is greater then our, I hear of surgeons who have plenty of leisure. I suppose they are men who do not love their profession, or, possibly, men who fancy that all of the surgeon’s duty is performed when he has seen the sick and made his prescriptions. But, in fact, the surgeon’s duties in a regiment are like a woman’s work, never done. But to a good housewife there must be a sweet satisfaction in order and cleanliness, and in the long run it must be more economical.

In our camp most curious problems present themselves, as how to keep people from scurvy without vegetables and fresh meat: how to have a good fire in tents without a fireplace, stove or ventilation: how to make bread without yeast and without oven. How to treat the sick without medicines,- how to amputate limbs without knives, - all these and many other similarly knotty questions the surgeon of the First Regiment of S.C. Vol’s. has to consider,- sometimes when he ought to be sleeping. This is not said complainingly. Our men rarely complain and those jeering white soldiers who saw their firm tread in the streets of Beaufort, yesterday, must have discovered the reason for their patience, this silent waiting. There was a Destiny in the silent, dignified bearing of our men yesterday. I never in my life, felt so proud, so strong, so large. I longed to lead a change upon those uncivil soldiers. Possibly that was wicked- can’t help it- “born so.” But I can afford to wait; the great mill is grinding slowly and surely.

Hurrah! Hurrah!- the Quartermaster just in with dispatch from signal officer announcing arrival of “Arago” and a gun boat at Hilton Head and General Hunter has come.

Jan 20, 1863

Gen. Hunter is in earnest about arming the blacks, so we may confidently expect well- done to increase. The little opposition to our movement will fall to the ground so soon we can prove our worthiness by marked success. Remember, it requires no only time bur deeds, to undo the hateful lesson this Republic (!) has been so long teaching. The public heart has virus in it and nothing but the flow of arterial blood can purify it. The innocent must suffer for the guilty.

I am beginning to find a little leisure for noting verbatim some of the individual histories of these soldiers and shall endeavor to forward them to you. The Col. and young captain have transcribed many of their songs and hymns, but without the music of their peculiar voices, I confess the words do not much interest me. Now and then a fine, poetical expression, but as a rule, somewhat dry, like the human skull Serg’t Rivers brought me one day. Their autobiographies, on the contrary, if one has the time and patience to draw them out, are often so unique that I feel deeply interested in them.

At dress parade, tonight, the Col. had some of my sanitary measures embodied in a general order and read by the Adjutant. One of the most important details was that each tent is hereafter to have a fire in it every evening. We have tried it long enough in James’ company, to be satisfied of its utility. The men do not greatly mind the smoke and I have convinced the Col. that it is one of the best purifiers and antiseptics we could have.

Jan 21, Evening

Great days seem natural to us now. General Hunter has reviewed our regiment with Gen. Saxton, and the Colonel’s long mourned dress coat has come and I no longer weep in secret silence the sacrifice of mine. But we will leave coats for arms and ask you to congratulate the 1st S.C.V, on the distinction conferred by the General in visiting us before any of those in Beaufort. And was it not refreshing to hear the General in command say to our soldiers, when formed in hollow square, “Men, I am glad to see you so well, I wish we had a hundred thousand soldiers like you. Before Spring I hope we shall have fifty thousand. You are fighting for your liberty and the liberty of your families and friends. The man who is not willing to fight for his liberty is not fit to have it.” Probably I have not the exact phraseology, but it cannot differ materially. It was very impressive to us all, while the cheers that followed were stunning to is all. Then the dear, noble General Saxton, so long thwarted by pro-slavery opposition, stepped forward and informed the regiment that Gen. Hunter had this afternoon told him that fifty thousand Springfield rifles are coming to this department for the black soldiers. Then the Colonel introduced the surgeons to Gen’l Hunter and while taking him to our little hospital, I called his attention to the refusal of Purveyor to honor any requisitions: consequently, I take another requisition to Hilton Head, countersigned by General Hunter, and we shall see with what result.

Jan. 22. Evening

Early this morning I galloped to Beaufort, went to Hilton Head on the “Flora”, and at sunset was back with my instruments and a beginning of the medicines. My success was entire, not however, without considerable ungodliness on one side, possibly not a little on the other. But Gen. Hunter intends to be obeyed and, I fancy, the negro haters will find it out in good season. You know I always fancied retributive justice, so I especially enjoy Gen. Hunter’s presence. He is an awful retribution to many a traitorous scamp in the department. The rule of Brannon-ism is at an end, and we poor sinners must be forgiven a little exultation. I understand that our medical Purveyor is a relative of General Brannon.

Steamer Ben Deford, Jan 23, 1863

I have refrained till now from informing you of a little expedition which for the last few days has been planning for us. I suppose there never was an expedition, however small, that got off at the specified, nor one that was kept secret. So we are five days later than intended, and the floating rumors of our plans are enough number to make it appear that we are to take Charleston and all other prominent Secesh places on the coast of Dixie. The “Planter”, the same that Robert Small ran out of Charleston, and the “John Adams”, each with a company of our soldiers and some large guns on board, started from camp at noon today, Major Strong on the John Adams. About four this afternoon we started with four companies including that of Cap’t R.- Colonel, Surgeon and second assit’t. surgeon and at this moment we are outside the bar, off Hilton Head, sailing as quietly in the soft moonlight and warm atmosphere as if our intentions were of the most peaceful nature.

The “Ben Deford” is rarely a magnificent steamer for transporting troops. A turn among the soldiers just now, convinced me that we can have ventilation enough and warmth enough to prevent illness. It is a real pleasure to go and see them so quietly wrapped un their blankets,- no quarreling, no profanity, and the whole responsibility rests upon our Colonel. He has absolute authority over these three steamers. Our men were all anxious to go, and many, belonging to companies not designated for the trip, went to Col. H. and begged to go. Some have been permitted to do so. It remains to see how they will fight.

St. Simon’s Bay, Jan 24.

At nine this morning we entered this bay expecting to find the John Adams waiting for us, but she was not to be seen. We dropped anchor and the Col. and I went on board the gunboat “Potomska”. There we found a remarkable negro who resides on St. Simon’s Island and who informed us that he knew of a quantity of Railroad iron, that was used in the construction of a fort, below, on the shore. So while waiting for the John Adams, the surf boats were manned and men enough taken ashore to secure about two thousand dollars worth of this new iron which is much needed at Hilton Head.

With Lieut. West, I went up to the Hon. Thomas Butler King’s estate, and confiscated a nice bath tub and three new windows for my hospital, which has only shutters. At four this afternoon the John Adams steamed down the bay.

Jan 25.

Still lying at anchor in St. Simon’s Bay--- waiting for the Planter. Judge Stickney of Florida is with us; an able defender of the oppressed and a gentleman. I was much pleased to learn that he is a native of Vermont. Surgeon Richardson, formerly of the 9th. Maine, is also with us. We are to leave him at Fernandina. His health has become so frail he was compelled to resign. Last evening he presented me with a pair of shoulder straps for my fatigue coat, with the remark that it might become essential that I have then on. But I fancy that whoever of our regiment falls into the hands of the Rebels would scarcely be saved by straps and sash. I feel that there is a tacit understanding that we are not to surrender under any circumstances.---- The captain of the steamer is an odd genius. He is a Cape Cod man, whose profanity is much part of his nature that total abstinence might kill him. He swears vigorously for freedom and especially for the Massachusetts expression of it. Curses the sluggishness of government officials and swears the democrats ought to be sent to-… Says he has worked fifteen months with this streamer at an expense of four hundred thousand dollars to the government, and he does not believe he has earned for it ten dollars that could not have been as well earned, if this, and some other steamers, had never been

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was shown, but the pickets fired upon them,- hence the destruction of the town. A woman has been waving her white handkerchief from one of the houses, but we do not care to do anything here. We are moving slowly and silently up the river, all light above, extinguished, save mine and I have put my rubber blanket for a curtain at the window. The Colonel is too considerate of me, but takes Dr. Miner to land with the troops. I am sadly aware that I could not endure a rapid march of ten miles on foot, so I have reluctantly fitted out Dr. Miner with my orderly, pistol and sash, tourniquets, etc., and shall try to possess my soul in patience, if not peace. Our men show anything but fear as we pass between the double line of pickets.

Midnight.

Oh! The terrible waiting! Before eleven P.M. one hundred and seventy- five men had been landed at [name missing] plantation, ten miles above St. Mary’s, with the Colonel at their head. And now volley after volley of musketry off in the woods sets me making final preparations for the wounded.

Jan’y 27, 1863.

I appropriated the mess- room and the officer’s berths to receive the wounded. Fortunately we had thought to bring candles along,- no others on board.—It was not more than one hour before we were busy dressing gun shot wounds. One man was killed instantly by a ball through the heart and seven were wounded, one of whom will die. Braver men never lived. One man with two bullet holes through the large muscles of the shoulder and neck, brought off from the scene of action, Robert Sutton, with three wounds, one on the skull, which may cost him his life, would not report himself till compelled to do so by his officers. While dressing his wounds he quietly talked of what they had done and what they yet can do. Today I had the Col. order him to obey me. He is perfectly quiet and cool but takes this whole affair with the religious bravery of a man who realizes that freedom is sweeter than life. Yet another did not report at all, but kept all night on guard and perhaps I should not have known of his having had a buck- shot in the shoulder if some duty requiring a sound shoulder had not been required of him today. The object of our raid was to surprise and capture a company of rebel cavalry pickets, but, as is usual in this war, the enemy seemed to know of the secret plan, and we only succeeded in making them skedaddle after a few rounds, and in bringing off five contrabands, a fine piano and divers other things. We also had the satisfaction of burning the plantation house and outbuildings, so they will not screen and more pickets. We steadily send shot and shell over the bluffs to prevent their picking off men from our boat, which is their habit. All this is very exciting and I enjoy it much. I just now volunteered to go up on a bluff and burn a picket house of rendezvous, but I believe the Col. thinks it unsafe for his friends to do what he himself is ever ready to do.

We reached St. Mary’s before noon. I believe I have before stated that the town was partially burned by the Neptune, yet there fifty or more houses remaining, including two large churches, a bank, etc. As we approached, the waving of white handkerchiefs began again, by the two maiden ladies (! !) residing in sight of the wharf. All the other houses were uninhabited. The women informed us that they were living entirely alone with their aged mother, that they were “St. Domingo ladies”, but had not owned slaves since England abolished slavery there. Their antecedents have been so doubtful that the Colonel thought it best o search their house very carefully in spite of their protestations, and entreaties and talk of honor, etc. etc. I was permitted to join him and one of the captains in the search and found it very interesting though we discovered no rebels. Of course we had a guard around the house, a guard of such color as greatly to annoy the inmates. They told me that they had not seen pickets at all and many other things which I knew to be false. But we politely left them, they avowing that they were ladies and thanking us for being gentlemen. As we were about to leave the wharf, bang, bang, bang, went secesh rifles from behind the houses and whistling went the balls over our heads. We were not long in sending shot and shell enough to protect our skirmishers and then the Col. did what I begged him to do this morning- put nearly all the town in flames, save the house of these women and two or three at the windward of it. I wanted to take the women down to Fernandina and burn every house, but the Col. thought it best to leave them, so there will still be a screen and sympathy left there for the rebels. But we left an immense fire and I trust the pickets will have to rescue the women from it.

Steamer Ben Deford,

Fernandina, Fla., January 28, 1863.

While superintending the transfer of the wounded from the John Adams last night, I sent ashore for mattresses, but without success. This morning I been ashore and procured a bale of fine hay from Quartermaster Seward, a gentleman who was my partner at euchre on the “Delaware” and who is not very prompt in doing what he can for us, so that now our men are about as comfortably placed as if they were in a hospital. Yesterday I saw how difficult it is to keep down vandalism when a town is to be burned. In this respect the blacks are much more easily controlled than the whites. Of course we have a right to appropriate what we need in the service of Uncle Sam, but I would be as severe as the Col. on individual appropriations. My only regret about burning the town is that we did not give those “unprotected ladies” the protection of our flag and then burn every house. I find the same feeling among officers here in Fernandina. If we are ever to put down this ungodly rebellion, we must act in the broadest principles of justice. If I offer my life in the defense upon my country I shall not be slow nor economical in my demands upon my enemies. This is the true justice and wise humanity. Just now two companies were sent to St. Mary’s on the Planter to load brick: I let Dr. Miner go with them. That I did not go myself instead, was the bravest thing I have done since I came to Dixie.

Jan. 29, noon.

I have just received a note from the Col, who is ashore, that sets our line officers to making ready in haste for another expedition. We are not yet done with St. Mary’s River and some of the upper settlements. The Planter has not yet returned, but has been using her artillery this morning shelling the pickets in the woods I presume.- I shall get some surgeon to care for my men in absence.

Steamboat John Adams,

Jan. 29, 1863.

Again we are on our way into the heart of search. If we do not get blown to pieces before morning we shall get some distance above where ant of our gunboats have been within a year. Tonight I have heard that a negro has come from the scene of the fight the other night, and he reports seven rebels killed, including the daring Cap’t Clark. Cap’t Clifton if this boat is a most singular mixture of candor and roughness and refinement. Though he swears like a trooper, there is a drollery and generosity and honesty about him that quite captivates me. The other night I was standing beside him in silence after our troops had marched away from shore, and the mate came up and asked permission to go ashore and get some hens. The captain exclaimed, “Oh my God! Doctor just think of this man robbing hen roosts right in the midst of death and damnation.” The deep, sepulchral voice with which this was uttered made the whole thing so tragico- comical that I did not know whether to laugh or cry.

Alberti’s Mills, 40 miles from Fernandina,

Jan 30, 1863.

The river is rebellious to the last degree. It is very crooked and sluggish and black and got us aground so many times in the long, sleepless night that rebel pickets might have picked off many of our men and officers. Again and again we had to turn points at right angles and we were never more than two rods from one or another shore. Often the sides of our boat were swept by the boughs of the mournful looking trees. The shores are generally low and marshy and the moss droops so low as to give the appearance of weeping willows, It is now eleven, A.M. and we are starting homeward.

Oh it was a queer night, so queer that more than once I laughed outright, when I thought of the curious fact that T.W.H. and I were so industriously trying to get a peep at real rebels, while they would undoubtedly do something to get a peep at us. In my time I have seen considerable mismanagement of one kind and another, but I do not remember that I ever dreamed that so much of that article could be employed in one night on board a steamboat. Among the boat’s officers there was no mutual understanding, and it is fortunate for us that the rebels did not know it. But at daylight we did reach Alberti’s mills and then came for me an hour of dreamy, fitful sleep. I had made three vigorous efforts to sleep during the night, but enjoyed the calm moonlight and strange scenery and spice of danger too much for drowsiness. We passed picket fires and felt the possibility that our return might be obstructed, or greatly harassed. Very few officers have voluntarily dared such a responsibility as that resting on our Colonel, but he patiently and vigilantly met all the obstacles and had his pickets and skirmishers so arranged.—

Evening and “Ben Deford” again thank God.

--I had written thus far when the rebels began firing from the shore and I found myself among our soldiers, who replied with a spirit and precision that sent more than one poor fellow to the dust.

Captain Clifton of the John Adams was shot through the head and died instantly. My Major’s head had escaped by about two inches. Strange to say no other accidents occurred in this nor in the subsequent firing from the bluffs on the Florida shore. The first attack was from the Georgia bluffs. They were both desperate, but of short duration. One fellow actually jumped on the flat- boat in tow, and was immediately shot by one of our soldiers. I afterwards asked Robert Sutton what he was about during the conflict, and found that he was deliberately shooting from the pilot house, with two guns, having a man load one while he fired the other. But not I will go back to the sunrise. As I was saying, the pickets and the skirmishers were so placed that there was no escape for the white families at Alberti’s Mills. The Col. had gone ashore and a little after sunrise sent for me to go off and take with me some copies of the President’s Proclamation. I found a little village, all included in the Alberti estate and the mansion was occupied by madame Alberti and her family. She was a New Yorker by birth and her deceased husband was a native of Philadelphia. Mr. Bessent, former business partner of Alberti’s was at the house on a visit, ill with chronic bronchitis. He, being an important person, must be made a prisoner, unless too feeble to be removed from the house. I found on examination, that he could be taken with us without danger to himself. Madame Alberti spent much time trying to convince me that she and her husband had been wonderfully devoted to the interests of their slaves, especially to the fruitless work of trying to educate them. The truth of these assertions was disproved by certain facts,- such as a strong slave jail, containing implements of torture which we now have in our possession, (the lock I have), the fact that the slaves have “mostly gone to the Yankees”, and yet other fact that Robert Sutton, a former slave there, said the statement was false. The statement of a black man was lawful in Dixie yesterday. I called madame Alberti’s attention to a former slave of hers, whom she remembered as “Bob”, but never before knew as Robert Sutton, corporal in the army of the United States. Robert begged me to forgive him for breaking through my order that he should not exert himself at all till the danger of inflammation of the brain should be averted. The white bandage about his head was conspicuous at the points of danger through all the twenty-four eventful hours of our expedition. It finally devolved upon him and Sergeant Rivers to examine the persons of our six rebel prisoners, for concealed weapons of defense. This last was so very anti-slavery that I fancied the rebels enjoyed it somewhat less than I. I am told that thirteen riderless horses went back to camp after that fight in the woods the other night. That the lieutenant in command and five others were killed and many others wounded. Could our party have known the exact state of affairs, the camp might have been destroyed and many prisoners taken. But it was safer and wiser for the infantry not to follow cavalry in the night.

Our comrades on the Ben Deford greeted us heartily and the Provost Marshal was in readiness to take charge of our prisoners. We shall probably take Mr Bessent to Beaufort with us. He is a wealthy and influential rebel and may become a very important hostage when Jeff Davis begins to hang us. We brought off two or three negroes, and rice, corn, sheep and other valuable things, strictly contraband of war. I want the Col. To take a piano, already boxed, and in a store-house at the wharf, but we had no room for it. I thought it would especially please Miss Forten to have it in her school.

Jan.31, evening.

While I keenly enjoy these moonlight excursions I find that like rising at three o’clock in the morning to go for pond lilies, one is satisfied with about three trips a week. You can imagine a little what an immense tax such a life makes upon the nervous system. But I find we sleep well as soon as opportunity offers. This rough life exposure in the open air puts an end to morbid excitability of the nerves, and one jumps at any reasonable chance for a snooze.

Sunday, Feb.1, 1863.

This morning the Planter, with Cap’t Trowbridge’s and Ca’t Rogers’ companies, met us in St. Simon’s Bay. They have not been idle. They left Cumberland Bay the day before yesterday and taking the inside route, destroyed some salt works which operation has damaged the rebels to the extent of about twenty five thousand dollars. They met with no opposition, but had a hard time dragging their boats through the marsh. The marshes, or savannahs, in this part of the country, which border the rivers, are almost impassible for human beings, yet many a slave has waded through them toward the north star of freedom.

Today I find a formidable sick list, the result of huddling so many men together in the hold of the John Adams, but I think nothing serious will come of it. The officer in command at Fernandina has no authority to send out a flag of truce with prisoners, so we take all ours to Beaufort. I am exceedingly glad of it, since I have found, through Robert Sutton, that one of them shot a man while he was trying to escape to the “Yankees.” After I had dressed Robert’s wound, this morning, he took me to the rebel and ingeniously made him say; “No, you are mistaken, the gun went off accidentally,” “and besides he was not killed, but died of fever.” “Then,” said “, “you did threaten to shoot him ?” “Yes, but I intended it only as a threat.” Robert said, “I know you killed him:” and I to Robert, “The testimony of black men is legal now in Florida.”

We are taking several while soldiers and officers from Fernandina to Hilton Head. Their prejudice against our soldiers is amusing. We happen to have command of this steamer and, of course, have the best places. I find white soldiers sleep on deck rather than to go below with our men. Last evening I saw a Lieutenant getting two of our soldiers to take his trunk down to the cabin and he was rather suddenly informed by Lieut. West that United States soldiers were not to be called upon to do menial service. Another Lieut. expressed the opinion to our rough and ready Capt. Dolly, that “these niggers” never would fight much. Dolly, in his fearful way, said; “You d- d fool; these soldiers have already fought more bravely than you ever will, you who have lived a couple of years on Uncle Sam without earning a cent for him.” The Lieut. did not think it safe to reply. I fancy Dolly. He is a vandal, but generous and brave. His men love him and fear him. His orders are somewhat terse, when in battle. I happened to be standing by him when he gave the command, “Cease firing, but if they fire again, give ‘em hell.”

The Colonel’s daring bravery has deepened the love nad admiration of his men and officers. I have been a constant source of annoyance to him by words of caution, but am happy to know that they were heeded. The death of Capt. Clifton was a terrible confirmation of all I have said, and I doubt if the Major again puts himself unnecessarily in the way of so much danger. I could not get the ball that passed through the mess room where I was writing, but I picked one up in the prisoner’s room, adjoining. Had we been the prisoners, our places would have been on the upper deck, where they begged we would not put them, and where no one dreamed of putting them. All of them, except Mr Bessent, are now forward with the soldiers. - - - -

- - Our expedition has been a capital success. We have had our soldiers three times under fire and know that they only care to face the enemy. We know also, that they can be trusted with the conquered foe. Not a single unbecoming act have I seen or heard of on the part of the guards, skirmishers or pickets. It was not for want of temptation, and I am led to wonder at their self control. The material benefit to the Government, of the expedition, is not inconsiderable. We are more than ever satisfied that the blacks must help us in this war. The next question to solve, is, how to penetrate far enough into the interior to free them. Possibly it remains for our regiment to solve this problem. Give us a good gunboat and plenty of ammunition to help us into the midst of them and I think we may trust God and our determination for the result…

Camp Saxton, Beaufort, S.C.

Feb.3,1863.

At break of day we were at Beaufort and my sick and wounded were being carefully conveyed to the “Contraband Hospital” for better care than our camp hospital affords. I left eight there and it seemed like leaving my children among strangers. But this was only a feeling, not a fact. It was very pleasant to have the black soldiers served first. Col. Rich and the other officers and soldiers, must wait the convenience of our freedmen. I should quite enjoy living in some one of our Northern cities a few months with the 1^st.S.C.Vols. I fancy there would be a conquering of predjudices somewhat satisfactory to your humble servant. Justice is an admirable machine when in good running order and with honest engineers to keep it going.

The Col. Took his official report in one hand and a captured instrument of slave torture in the other, to Gen. Saxton and left them for an early inspection. I was too busy to breakfast there with the Col. At ten o’clock we were disembarking opposite our camp and the home troops were receiving us with wild cheers of joy. All sorts of false rumors had been reported concerning us. We had been cut up and cut down, hung and cut to pieces and various other rebel morsels of information had been circulated. I trust that you have not been tormented by such rumors. Perhaps it is best for me to take this occasion to say that the rebel reports are not always so reliable as their personal sympathizers could wish. Believe nothing short of official reports and - - my letters.

Feb.5.

Lieut. O’Neil informed me today that during the eight years of his military life in Texas, Utah and in the present war, he had never been engaged in anything half so daring as our trip up the St. Mary’s River. He is one of our best officers nad has seen much service. - - - I would very much like to go up to Alberti’s Mills gain, with flat-boats enough to bring away lumber etc. and then set fire to what we could not take. There is not rebel force in that neighborhood to capture us. If they should block the passage by felling trees across the river, our boys would have the opportunity to do what they so much crave, -meet their old masters in “de cl’ar field.” They besought me over and over, to ask “de Cunnel to let we spill out on de sho’an’meet dem fellers in de brush.” There would have been bushwhacking of a startling nature and I have no doubt we could have brought off some of those cavalry horses hitvhed in the rear. But the Col. Is pretty economical of human life when no great object is at stake.

I have noticed that twenty eight boxes of goods await my order at Hilton Head and that the Flora will bring them up and land them at our camp, if I wish. This looks as if the day of honoring requisitions in this department had arrived. Meanwhile, during my absence, me requisition on the Purveyor in New York was honored and I found eighteen boxes of the very best material awaiting my return. The Soldiers Relief Association of Norwich, CT. has shipped a goodly supply of bedding, towels, flannel shirts etc. to us. These things were offered by Miss G the very efficient agent. Gen. Saxton has given me the upper part of the Smith mansion for another hospital, so we shall have rwenty four beds as comfortably arranged and as well cared for as any in the department.

Yesterday, Miss Forten sent me, from St. Helena Island, a generous box of ginger cakes. I don’t know how she learned my weakness. This box makes my tent very attractive to the Col. And the young captain.

Robert Sutton has quite recovered from his wounds. He told me that the flesh was healthy and I have found it so and the bone did not get involved. I never look at Robert without feeling certain that his father must have been a great Nubian king. I have rarely reverenced a man more than I do him. His manners are exceedingly simple, unaffected and dignified, without the slightest touch of haughtiness. Voice, low, soft and flooding, as if his thoughts were choking him. He is tall, straight and brawny muscled. His face is all of Africa in feeling and in control of expression. By this I do not mean cunning, but manly control. He seems to me kingly, and, oh ! I wish he could read and write. He ought to be a leader, a general, instead of a corporal. I fancy he is like Toussaint l’ Ouverture and it would not surprise me if some great occasion should make him a deliverer of his people from bondage.

Prince Rivers, - just as black as Robert Sutton, - has a peculiar fineness of texture of skin that gives the most cleanly look. He is agile and fleet, like a deer, in his speed and like a panther in his tread. His features are not very African and his eye is so bright that it must “shine at the night, when de moon am gone away.” His manners are not surpassed on this globe. I feel my awkwardness when I meet him. This because an officer ought to be as polite as a soldier.

Feb. 6. 1863.

We are just now through with the hardest and coldest north east storm that we have had since I came to the Department on the South. Living through this is evidence of considerable constitution. The storm politely waited for us to finish an expedition but the two together have succeeded in running our sick list up to 129 in today’s report. This morning a poor fellow died of congestion of the lungs, before the surgeon saw him. In this case, as in nearly all the autopsies I have made, I find extensive adhesions which have resulted from former pleurisy. There are, at this moment, not less than a dozen severe cases of pleuro-pneumonia among our sick. I find it true that these people are more subject than the whites to pulmonary diseases. And here I must put a fact of dispraise to the colored people as I find them. They, as a rule, show remarkable indifference to the sufferings of those not immediately related by the ties of consanguinity. I do not believe this to be a want of affection in the race, but due to long influence of inhuman teaching and treatment. I believe the development of individual responsibility and the inducement to rise, will abolish this want of feeling and respect for each other.

Feb. 7.1863

- - - Emerson and Thoreau are often in my mind, in connection with this camp life and these people, than any other writers I know. While I am constantly studying how to keep these men well, or to alleviate their sufferings, they as constantly fill me with something higher than a feeling of philanthropy, a sort of oriental sympathy, outreaching the wants of the body. Gen. Saxton has said that these people are “intensely human”, and I will add that I find them intensely divine. It is, however, more difficult to call out the divine than the human.

The blessings resulting from freedom will wash away the accursed stains of slavery and all the world will see that these arexalso children of God. They have a boundless conception of the divine spirit and a more intense trust in yhe fatherhood of God than have the cultivated whites of my acquaintance. It is true, they will commit almost as many sins as their white neighbors, but I am speaking now of the religious element and leaving the moral to be controlled by culture.

This morning I had a break in my tent. But in spite of cold and damp, I never sleep cold. Had the Lord anticipated this war I think he would have made buffaloes native here. My robe seems half human in kindness and warmth. The “Free South” has published Col. Higginson’s official report of our expedition. He told me tonight that there were many things he would have been glad to embody in the report, but the rebels would have gained thereby such information as we wish to keep from them. I think our prisoners will be held as hostages.

Keeping our men below so long on the John Adams destroyed more lives than the rifle shots would have done. It seemed a choice of evils and the least apparent was chosen. But the return of sunshine will help restore the sick.

St. Helena Island, Feb. 9, 1863.

Yesterday afternoon I put my new saddle and bridle on the long-legged horse, claimed by the Col. And Adjutant, and came over here to spend the night with the Hunn’s and Miss Forten. This is the first night I have slept in a house since the 18^th. day of December. It seems strange to find myself in the midst of civilization and buckwheat cakes. - - Just before leaving camp, I read Mr Emerson’s “Boston Hymn” to our regiment, wile assembled for divine worship. I prefaced it with the remark that many white folks could not understand the poems of Mr. Emerson, but I had no apprehension of that kind from those before me. It was enough that Robert Sutton’s eyes were glistening before me as I read. I was standing on the veranda of the plantation house and the men were under a beautiful magnolia tree toward the river. Mr. Emerson would have trembled with joy to see how much these dark colored men drank in the religion of his poem. The chaplain was filled with emotion by it and straightway took the poem for his text and when I left, was enthusiastically speaking from it.

Camp Saxton,

Feb. 8, 1863.

My package for you is so enormous this morning that it quite startles me. My reputation for making notes is almost equal to the Colonel’s though I didn’t get out my notebook in the midst of the whistling bullets on St. Mary’s as I saw him do.

I feel that it was a little cowardly in me to run away from camp yesterday, but I knew that three of our good soldiers must die within a few hours and I could do no more for them. It is just impossible for me to get used to losing patients. Such death is equivalent to losing some vital part of one’s self. This comes from distrust of myself, rather than of God. Our sick list is rapidly lessening and all will soon be as usual. I have this afternoon conversed with a pro-slavery surgeon, who has had much to do with negroes. I thought he seemed rather pleased in making the statement that their power of endurance was not equal to that of the whites. I nevertheless gathered valuable information and hints relative to their treatment. If I am permitted to remain in the regiment a year I shall prove that, while the blacks are subject to quite different diseases from those of the whites, the mortality among them will average less and the available strength or efficiency will average more. This is the season for white soldiers to be well and blacks to be ill. --- My pleasant visit at Friend Hunn’s made me forgetful of camp trials and have returned with renewed vigor.

Feb. 10

No day so thoroughly spring- like as this, yet I feel we are to miss the unlocking delight we realize in the New England transition from winter to summer. The bugs and birds and frogs seem to realize the change but they know their own and are grateful for the smallest favors. I miss the melting snow at noon and the crunching crystals at night and morning. My eyes are not dazzled by the pure splendor as the days lengthen. The cawing crow flies back and forth, be he does not seem so earnest, so put to his trumps as those that fly above Wigwam Hill, when Long Pond is all leaden and weeks of sunshine and rain must come to free the ice- bound waters. The shores our river here are covered with nourishing things, and the tides make high and low for the benefit of lazy lives, but I do not see the use of living such easy terms. Sometimes it seems to me like a funny experiment to try the merits of the body in this land of ease, and of the soul in a less genial clime. How long the experiment is to last the Lord only knows, but I am devotedly thankful that my place of nativity is among the cold mountains of Vermont. I do not believe it is possible for a New England type of man to originate in this level land. I shall soon expect to find alligators in Charles River, or turkey buzzards among the Adirondacks. This reminds me that on my way through the pine woods yesterday, I ran one of these southern birds down. He had probably eaten so much that he could not fly. I easily captured him and brought him into camp for James to prepare for the Natural History Society of Worcester. Can you imagine me galloping across the pains and through the woods with this South Carolina specimen in my arms? I was thankful the long- legged horse did not have a fit of ugliness as he did the day before.

Before the countersign was given, tonight, the Captain and I went out to see a sick soldier at Battery Plantation. It was much more convenient to enter the lines at the guard- house, when we returned, than to go to the ordinary entrance. We were challenged in the dark by “Who came darm” “ A friend of the guard: call a corporal of the guard to let us in-“ “Halt, halt,:” At the same time cocking his musket. We of course halted and asked if his gun was loaded. This raised his suspicion and his gun at the same time and he again demanded, “Who dar?” I said, “The surgeon and Captain Rogers.” “I don’t know any Sur John:” and I began to think he might fire upon us before the corporal came, so I told him the doctor and captain. This lessened his apprehension. I believe it would surely be fatal for any one to attempt to get by the guard here at night. To our soldiers, this war is not play, they intend to obey orders.

Feb. 11

It is to be remembered that the officers of a regiment in which the privates do not read and write, have much to do that would otherwise be done by an orderly or by a private detailed for the purpose.

Today I have planned a new hospital and begun to lay the foundation of the first ward. This looks a little like having a brigade here sometime. We have a charming spot near the rover for hospital buildings. I shall have only sixteen patients in a ward. Each ward is to be a separate building 20 x 50 feet, containing two fire places. From morning till evening, all through the summer, a breeze comes up the river and my wards shall be blessed by it. What a relief it would be to have Stephen Earle take charge of this, but it is all to be very simple and our efficient chaplain takes almost all of it on his hands.

Feb. 12. Evening.

Tonight the tree toads sing in the adjoining grove and sounds of life are everywhere. The day has been like one in midsummer, when showers are expected in the afternoon and do not come; but the evening is cooler. The Col. and I walked out a little way to a cypress grove, where alligators might thrive, and where they tell of finding one. The trees are large, like oaks and have similar tassel like blossoms, or catkins, but the bole is broad at base and tapers rapidly up six or eight feet in a beautiful compound column and then becomes a simple Doric. All around under these trees are the cypress knees, from six to eight inches in height and looking preciously like cloaked and hooded monks, in prayer. The resemblance was so marked that I hesitated to break the silence of the place which seemed as holy as the “Sanctuary”, opposite Wigwam Hill. I will endeavor ro send home one of these knees that you may see how a congregation of them must look.

At last the Adjutant has been made very happy by the arrival of his affianced. They are to be married before the regiment. I confess I should feel somewhat about marrying here as Cap’t. Clifton did about the robbing of hen roosts up the St. Mary’s.

Tonight I chanced to get into conversation with Serg’t McIntyre of Co. G., a soldier whose appearance always interested me. He is a native of Palatka, Fla., was born on the plantation of old Govenor Mosley, & was always treated kindly by him. When our gun- boats went up the St. John’s, this Serg’t went to his old master, who was much suspected of Union sentiments, by the rebels, and begged him to come off under protection of our flag. But, failing to start him, McIntyre informed the old man of his intention to go himself and take with him his parents and sisters, that if he could always be sure of having the old Govenor for a master he loved him so much that he would stick by him. The Govenor much regretted their leaving him, but, knowing that his children would not treat them as he had done, he interposed no obstacles. All but the mother, who had “brought up” the Govenor’s daughters, came away. I have written the above as a preface to the reasons of this man’s gratitude and attachment.

By the Govenor he was always treated kindly, By trade he is a builder and his master allowed him, for eight years, to work at his trade where he pleased, by paying him (the master) $360.00 a year. He hired six other slaves from their masters, at various rates, according to their ability, and went off to Micanopy- which was not much of a place at that time- and within eight years they had built up “a smart town.” Twice a year he was obliged to go back to Palatka, fifty miles, to pay the masters for their kindness in allowing their slaves to clothe and board themselves and furnish their own tools and bring in from $150.00 to $360.00 per year, per man, in return. Even now this honest fellow does not fully realize the outrage. It was so much to them to escape the constant restraints of bondage that they forgot the rest. Many of the houses were built by contract instead of by the day, and if the chivalry had paid him always as agreed, he could have cleared about $550.00 per year. As it was, he was only even with the world when the war began and he was suspected of giving information about the “Yankees” to the slaves and he was compelled to leave his wife and two children at Micanopy. The first man to appear against him on a sort of trial for such suspicion was one for whom he had just built a home and received nothing for it. Should we ever go up the St. John’s river into the heart of Florida, the Serg’t will be a valuable guide. He has sisters at Beaufort and at Fernandina who have paid their masters fourteen dollars per month year after year, and supported themselves by washing and ironing.

Feb. 13, 1863.

Tonight I have been talking with Cato Waring, one of my old nurses in the hospital. The attempt to give a report of his history seems futile. He is a quiet, old black man, this Cato, with singular combination of intellect and ready shrewdness, a subtlety of character that makes you feel as if a serpent might silently coil around you at any moment, without the rustle of a leaf. He appears dull and heavy, but is full of unspent sharpness and agility. He is old, but not gray, body and spirit alike in tact. The night after our return from our expedition, I was telling them in the hospital about it and old Cato sat, with his dull eyes bent upon the fire, seemingly indifferent to all, till I came to the death of the rebel officer in the woods. The his eyes sparkled and glared at me. “Did you know his name?” “No.” “Oh, I hope to God it was my young master who went down that way.”

Tonight Cato came to my tent and began very quietly to tell me of his life in slavery and his escape from it, but it was not long before his tone and manner became too dramatic for me to take notes and I felt as if all the horrors of the accursed system were being poured upon my naked nerves. His voice was always low, but commanding. He was born on the Santee river and “raised by Mr. Cooper as a pet.” But he was sent away to learn the carpenter’s trade, and after seven years apprenticeship returned home to find his old master was dead and the estate involved by mismanagement on the part of the widow ad children. Finally, he and the other slaves were sold to pay the debts. Dr. Waring, his new master, “was a bad man, but not so bad as his wife.” The Dr’s family increased rapidly and his expenses were so great that Cato was made not only driver, but overseer of the estate, a position he held till his escape, a period of sixteen years. Dr. Waring and his wife ranked among the affectionate specimens of humanity. “Dey ollus kiss wen he go out an wen he come in”. Mrs. Waring was a neat housewife and made her servants “clean all de brasses and eberyting befo’ daylight in de mo’nin’-“ When she arose in the morning and examined the furniture with her white handkerchief for dust, there were usually one or two victims selected for the lash. It was Cato’s business to wait at the door for orders to apply from one hundred to five hundred lashes every morning before going out to the plantation. If the victim was male, he was stripped and cords were fastened to his fingers and then drawn over a horizontal pole above his head, till his toes only, touched the ground; then the master would stand behind Cato with a paddle and knock him over for any delinquency on his part. The same treatment was applied to women, except that instead of stripping off the clothing, the skirts and chemise were drawn up over the head. When the parlor was filled with visitors, the mistress would wind a towel around the end of a stick and have it thrust into the throat of the victim and it would come out all covered in blood- thus the screams of the tortured would be smothered. These statements would seem exaggerated to me if I had not, over and over, in my medical examinations in this regiment, found enormous horizontal scars around the body, and, on inquiry, been told “Dat’s whar my ole Marsa had whipped me.” Never once have these revelations come to me except by inquiry.

Finally, the war began. Old Cato heard the guns for Fort Sumter and waited and waited to hear his master speak of it. He and all his fellow slaves felt that the hour of deliverance had come. Finally, he said one night to his old master, young Doctor who “had been off to some place dey calls Paris,” and who was worse than the old man; “what all dat tunder mean way off dar?” “Oh it’s the d—d Yankees who want to steal all our property.” Of course Cato was indignant at the Yankees and promised to stand by his master. Time went on and the rebels began to doubt their success and at the same time began to swear that they would “work de niggers to deat’ before the d—d Yankees should have them.” Cato was compelled to exact tasks of the slaves that were before unheard of. He could not do it, and told his master so one Sunday night. The Doctor swore vehemently and ordered Cato to report himself in the morning for chastisement. Cato said “I tanked him berry much for de information an’ went to my hut an’ hung all de keys whar de ole woman could fin’ ‘em, but didn’t tell her what I’se gwinen to do, cause she’d make such a hullaboo about it. But Sunday mornin’ befo’ de hen git up, “ Cato was in a dug-out pushing his way through the rice swamp, so that the dogs could not follow his trail. He had gone far before daylight, and during the day, lay quietly in his boat, for he had been three days without eating. When he unexpectedly met a white lady, he assumed nonchalance, touched his hat and said, “howdye,” and told such a plausible story that he got something to eat. At another time he went four days without eating and in the evening saw a black man nailing up a coonskin by torch light, on the side of his hut. “Dis big ole man look like a religion feller,” and Cato was almost on the point of trusting him enough to go up and ask for food, but finally thought it safer to wait a little and try to steal something. He had just entered the yard when a great dog caught him by the chest, but fortunately, got only his clothing in his mouth. His hickory cane silenced that dog, but others came, an’ all de blacks an’ whites came down togedder.” He ran to the woods and found a pond and waded half the night to escape the dogs. “I didn’t git noffin for eat, but I wasn’t hungry no mo’ that night.” At last he found shelter and food and rest under a roof a negro whom he could trust. He was then twenty two miles from the river and in the night a black horseman came and said a Ynakee gunboat was “commin’ up de ribber, an’ de Cap’n was holdin’ out his arms an’ beck’nin’ de niggahs fus’ from one sho’an’den from de odder.” Cato straightway started toward the river, but there were many roads. The horseman agreed to break off pine boughs at such partings and then go on rejoicing. By some mistake he did not reach the river at the point designated, and afterwards learned that his mistake had saved him from a trap of the rebels for whom the black horseman was acting.

Another night he was lying under a garden fence when a rebel was leaning over it, watching, intently, the house beyond, ready to shoot him when he should jump from a window. “My heart did beat so hard I wondered he didn’t hear it, but he didn’t an’ wen dey come to search de garden, I crawl on my belly till I jump troo de gate an’ it rain so fass I knowed deyre guns wouldn’t go wen dey snapped em at me.” At last, after wandering about “from de secon’ week in May till de las week in June I reached de gunboat.” His approach to the boat was full of apprehension. Before he could be certain of the boat, he saw soldiers on the shore and did not quite know whether they were Yankees or rebels. So he wavered between holding up his “white rag” and keeping out of sight. At last they saw him in his little boat, which he had somewhere confiscated, and “I hol’ up de rag an’ de mo’ de boat come, de mo’ I draw back, but oh, wen I get on de boat I thought I was in hebben.” I shall not trouble you with more slave stories. It is too much like trying to relate a tragedy acted by Rachel- very tame.

Feb. 16, 1863.

Our Colonel has been down to Hilton Head today and reported Brig. Gen. Stephenson under arrest and to be sent to Washington to asserting that he would rather the Union cause should be lost than be saved by black soldiers. I should like to see the gentleman this evening. Everything may go against us in the present, but these little episodes are refreshing.

My heart is lightened by the return of usual health to our camp. It is pleasant to find every one looking up instead of down. Some of the replies to medical questions are quite unique, as, for instance, “I feel jail bound an’ cough powerful.” “I’ve got misery all de way down from de top ob de head to de sole ob de foot.” If I had not promised you freedom from individual histories in the future, I should try to write out the history of my head hospital nurse, Mr. Spaulding is a very superior man. He was kept in the stocks three weeks in the winter and his legs have not since been as strong as before. He is averse to speaking of himself. I trust his integrity, tenderness and natural ability as I would trust those qualities in John Milton Earle. He is a prince and commands the respect of all.

Feb. 17, 1863. Evening.

Today I have been reading Judge Conway’s speech in Congress. I have found no leisure to watch carefully the reported change in public opinion in the North. I did not believe till today, that our friends are actually getting hopeless about the restoration of the Union on the basis of universal freedom. Judge Conway’s opinion I respect, and in this instance it weighs like lead upon my spirits. Besides, I somehow feel that the sentiments of a majority of the friends of freedom are too nearly represented in this speech. If so, nothing short of a miracle can bring the present generation of slaves into freedom. This thought makes me tremble when I look into the faces of our brave follows and remember that millions of such are waiting in bondage for an opportunity to be as brave. The contemptible love of dominion so long fostered in this nation will yet be the death of it. Of course a better nation will grow out of the mouldreing ruins, but it is cruel that the present good of a nation and a race should be sacrificed on the alter of selfishness. These men have wives and children, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers yet in slavery and they daily pray God to bless the nation that has begun to let them fight for freedom. If the nation proves false to this half realized hope the curse of God will weigh more heavily on us than ever before. I would rather make my grave with the oppressed and outraged than survive the day of blighted anticipations. As God lives, liberty will come at last, but long I see her before I die.

Feb. 18, Evening.

Last evening had more sadness for me that I have known since I left New England. But while gloomily preparing for bed at ten o’clock, my young assistant, Dr. Minor, thrust his head into the tent with, “Doctor, don’t you want to see the Atlantic for February? I have a box from home.” ------- “A well known legal writer,” (vide N.Y. Evening Post) made me experience somewhat of the “Law of Costs” by holding open my eyes and heart and soul long beyond the physiological rules of camp, but what was lost in quantity of sleep was made up in quality by the reading. I long to take my old friend by the hand and thank him from my heart for this philosophical statement of vital truth. I find no leisure for reading books when so many unread souls lie open before me and writing and speaking in the face of a bleeding nation seem somewhat disgraceful to me, but the “legal writer” has come in at a critical moment with a reserved force of language which may prove better then a whole division of armed men. We now have the medical department of our regiment so systemized that I find more freedom from care than a few weeks ago. The prospect of a change of location leave my new hospital in status quo.

Feb. 20. Evening.

Yesterday I visited Miss Murray’s school in St. Helena Island. Miss Murray is assisted by Miss Towne and Miss Foster. Since the season for tilling the land had begun, the school has lessened in numbers from 200 to 125; both sexes and from three to fifteen years of age. Many of them have been under tuition several months and compare very favorably with Irish children after some length of instruction, as I have seen then in N.E. From what I have seen in camp, I think the mode of receiving instruction is very different in the two races. Imitation and musical concert are the avenues to the minds of these children. Of course the habit of such dependence will be changed by education, but such is the beginning. After centuries of slavery, which utterly shuts the avenues of thought, we should hardly expect rapid development of activity in the superior regions of thought. Only now and then, some genius, like Robert Sutton, can be left to prove the God-like relation. The simple fact is that use is less destructive than disuse.

I dined at Friend Hunn’s and was accompanied by Miss Forten on a visit to Mr. Thorpe, who had charge of the Tripp plantation. “Edisto” a meager little confiscated creature from Edisto Island, with a saddle that must have been afloat since the flood; a bridle that left him comparatively unbridled and erratic in his ways and a girth that could never gird his loins up to the scriptural injunction without breaking. He had neither sandals nor shoes to his feet nor speed to his body. You can imagine that our ride of four miles through the pine barrens was not so rapid as John Gilpin’s. But the afternoon was like the last of June and full of sunshine and jasmine blossoms and the ground was covered with brown pine needles. I have seen none but the pitch tree here. The needles are often a foot long and now that they are enlivened by steady warmth, they sport graceful plumes against the sky.

But I have made my last visit to St. Helena Island. The fortunes of war uproot, too suddenly, for my fancy, all the little fibres of local attachment just as they begin to take kindly to the soil. I have just got everything in good attitude towards my new hospital when all is to be abandoned and we care to pitch our tents (if rebels permit) in another state. Being exactly what I want, to do not grumble at the fact.

Feb. 24, 1863

Colonel Montgomery’s arrival from Key West, with the nucleus of the Second S.C. Vols. is an event of importance to our life here and also to the history of the war. I have heard Col. Higginson declare that he regarded Col. Montgomery alone as equal to one regiment. I have rarely heard our Colonel express deeper confidence in anyone. I have already discovered the secret of it. Col. Montgomery occupied my tent, last night, and before I turned in with James I heard him talk enough to feel sure of his indomitable courage united with that rare verity which belongs only to inborn gentlemen. A compact head on slightly rounded shoulders, a tall form of slender build, dark, bronzed face, deep brown and slightly curling hair, a Roman nose, heavy beard and mustache, a smallish, determined mouth and pointed chin, deep hazel eyes of density, all form a combination of feature and expression belonging to a man who has fought many battles but never surrendered. He one drove fourteen thousand with four hundred. He once ordered five rebel prisoners shot to avenge the death of five of his soldiers who were taken prisoners and shot by the rebels. He would not permit the blasphemy of the oath of allegiance to the remaining ten, but sent them back to their rebel brethren with the information that he could take prisoners and that thereafter he should not be content with life for life, but ten for one if they persisted in their hellish career of atrocity which they had begun. This man seems to me one of the John Brown men of destiny. He is not of the slow, calculating sort, but being in harmony with the elements around him, he counsels with fleeting events and trusts his intuitions more than his calculations.

Feb. 25, 1863.

This afternoon our regiment was received by Gen. Saxton in the presence of Gen. Hunter. The staff and body guards of these two General made about a hundred horsemen. I quite enjoyed the bugle notes as they galloped into camp and thought how much more exciting a cavalry regiment must be than infantry. In the course of the battalion drill our boys were ordered to make a charge toward them and I verily believe that if the Col. had not been in front, the order “Halt”, would have passed unheeded till the cavalry had scattered over the field.

All this evening I have been squeezing Kansas history out of Col. Montgomery, a history with he himself is so completely identified that I have really been listening to a wonderful autobiography. Col. M. is born pioneer. Ashtabula County, Ohio, is his native place. Forty nine years ago, Joshua R. Giddings and Ben Wade were young men and Montgomery in his boyhood was accustomed to hear their early pleadings at the bar. So you see how birth and early surroundings fitted him for a fiercer frontier life. New England life seems puny beside the lusty life born on the frontier. Of the Col’s. eight children two of his sons are to hold commissions in his regiment. They are young but as “they don’t know the meaning of fear” and hate slavery he is sure they will get on. In medicine he has a weakness for pellets instead of pills. It is humiliating that our two strong colonels should exhibit such weak points. So long as we remain in good health I don’t know but this foible of homeopathy is as harmless as any of the popular vagaries.—

Yesterday Mingo Leighton died. Many weeks ago, I saw him step out of the ranks one day, when upon the double quick discovered that he had a slight disease of the heart. He was a noble fellow black as midnight, who had suffered in the stocks and under the lash of a savage master and did not accept any offer of discharge papers. Later he realized some of his hopes up the St. Mary’s so that he was very quiet under his fatal congestion of the lungs. He was ill but a few hours and was very calm when he told me on my first visit that his work was finished. He never gave me his history, though he regarded me as his friend, but one of his comrades confirmed my convictions of his worth. This same comrade, John Quincy, a good old man, who for eight years, paid his master twenty dollars per month for his time and eight dollars per month apiece for mules, and boarded himself and animals,- this man told me that Mingo was deeply religious but said little about it and that he himself had been “trabblin by dis truth somethin’ like twenty five years” I have rarely met a man whose trust in God has seemed to me more immediate and constant.

Feb. 26.

Our visitors increase and I shall not be sorry when we are beyond the reach of those who “doubt the propriety” of arming the negroes. There is but one convincing argument and I don’t care how soon it comes. I am sick of talking to men whose limited capacity renders it necessary for me to explain that humanity lies somewhat deeper than the integument of the human body.

Feb. 28.

I keep a blazing fire in my tent about half the time, these hot, humid days, to keep myself from moulding alive. It requires a high pressure of vitality to push off these damps as they crowd in upon me here. Yet I have found only three cases of tubercular disease among our soldiers. Considering the fact that they were recruited without much regard to physical ability, I think this freedom from scrofulous disease remarkable.

March 2, Evening.

John Quincy (Co.G.) came and asked me today if I would “send up North” for a pair of spectacles for him. “for common eyes of 60”. The old man said he “could not live long enough to make much account of them”, but that he “could read right smart places in the Testament,” and since he had lost his spectacles he missed it. This is the same soldier who told his congregation on the Ben Deford, after our St. Mary’s trip, that he saw the Col. With his shoulder at the wheel of the big gun in the midst of the firing, and that “when de shell went out it was de scream ob de great Jehovah to de rebels.” What made this statement the more interesting to me was the fact that I was standing in the background with the Col. At the time and John Quincy did not know of our presence.

We are now weeding our regiment a little and today I have examined about a hundred and discharged thirty for disability. I find one poor fellow whose mind is very torpid, though he is not idiotic. A companion of his told me that he had been overworked in the Georgia rice swamps and that “he be chilly minded, not brave and expeditious like me”. I believe I have somewhere written that our men where not subjected to examination by a surgeon before enlisting, hence this disagreeable business of discharging now. It is much easier to keep men out of a regiment than to get them out when once in.

March 2.

The plot thickens. Our steamers are coaling up and the stores and ammunition are going aboard. This looks southward and before this letter reaches you we shall probably be up some river, I hope not the one spoken of on the streets. Today Dr. M.M.Marsh of the U.S. Sanitary Commission has made his official visit and dined with me. I suppose I care the more for Dr. Marsh that he is not only a gentleman, and a physician whom I greatly respect, but also that he comes from the capital of my native state. He is an elderly man with a countenance all covered with benignity. The following note to me from his agent at Beaufort, -Mr H.G. Spaulding,- indicates the right spirit towards our movement. “If you are in want of any hospital or sanitary supplies for your regiment, we shall be most happy to fill out the requisition for you. Send for whatever you need and state in every case the amount wanted. This is all the ‘red tape’ of our Commission and there are no knots in it. In view of your unexpected movement I take this opportunity of assuring you of our desire to assist you in every way in our power.”

Of course Dr. Minor was posted off with a requisition and our good soldiers shall bless the Commission.

Last night our men seemed bewitched. A few ran guard to be at a dance at the old “Battery plantation”. Very early in the morning a poor fellow refused to halt, when ordered to do so by the guard, and has lost his life for it. He was shot through the side and will die within a few days.

Steamer Boston, March 6.

Yesterday, at four p.m. the last tent was struck and we began to move down the river at eight this evening. Like our other expedition, we have three steamers,- the Boston, Burnside and John Adams. Col. Montgomery with his men and Co.A. (Capt. Trowbridge), of our regiment, started last evening on the Burnside. Our Lt. Col. Billings with Co.B.(Capt. James) and Co.C. (Capt. Randolph) on the John Adams. Col. Higginson and Major Strong with the other seven companies of our regiment, on the Flag Ship Boston. I have left Dr. Hawkes behind to care for the sick in the hospital, and placed Dr. Minor on the Adams. With me are the hospital Steward and my trusty nurse, Mr. Spaulding. You may easily imagine there is not much lee way on this steamer, calculated to carry less than four hundred. Besides we are blocked at every turn by camp equipage, horses, army wagons etc. But the weather is perfect and the line officers cheerfully co-operate in keeping their men where I want them.

To break camp under any circumstances is not an easy thing to do, but divers unforeseen obstacles have made no end of complications. The most serious hinderance I know of was the attempted desertion of Lieutenants O’Neil and Stockdale, two artillerists, who were very brave in our last expedition and upon whom, I fancy, the Col. Put much dependence in our present undertaking. The disaffection of these two officers grew out of the discontent and diabolism of their wives. Soon after our expedition, I was obliged to ask Gen. Saxton for increased hospital room. This led to the conclusion that these Irish wives, who were occupying chambers in the plantation house, would be obliged to go to New York fro want of room at Beaufort, besides, it seemed necessary to get them away from the regiment. Leave of absence could not be granted the Lieutenants and then commenced such cursing from Madam Stockdale as I never heard from any woman. There was a quiet cooperation on the part of Madam O’Neil. Yesterday morning the Lieutenants would not report to their superiors, as ordered by the Col., but left the camp instead. The Major arrested them in Beaufort and put the them in charge of the Ass’t Adjutant General, who, -very unwisely,- at least let them off and hour on parole. Not reporting as promised, they were pursued and found on the “shell road” going towards the lines of the enemy. They are now heavily ironed and in jail at Beaufort, with a prospect of execution before them. I am glad for their wives to suffer as they do and inasmuch as these officers have served several years in the regular army and are not at all ignorant of the rules, they cannot complain of any punishment they may have brought upon themselves.

Steamer Boston, Mouth of St. John’s River, March 8, 1863.

Waiting, waiting, waiting, with the thermometer at 80 F. this btight Sunday.

Great sandbanks like snow, atmosphere shimmering in the hot sunlight, while the young, tender foliage softens the landscape into beauty.

At daylight this morning we left Fernandina and arrived off the bar at the mouth of this river at 9.30 A.M. The gunboat “Uncas” came off to meet us and considerably before noon we were anchored in here with the Uncas, the Norwich and our transport, the Burnside. Why the John Adams, has not reached here, we cannot imsgine. This delay warns the rebs of our approach to Jacksonville and, if they choose to dispute our landing, I do not see why some lives may not be lost. James and I have been ashore this afternoon and have seen various wild flowers unfamiliar to us. The Col. Is deep in consultation with gunboat captains and a steady frown indicates his impatience and perplexity about the John Adams. Rough and ready Capt. Dolly remarked when we passed her that he was d-d if he didn’t admire the Lt.Col. because he was always to be found just where we left him. His theory however about the non-arrival of the Adams is that the chaplain has gone back for the last well to be dug. Wells are one of the chaplain’s specialties and it would not be surprising if the theory proved correct. To me the worst feature of the delay is the exposure of our men to disease. I dread confinement in close air for them much more than I do rebel bullets.

Yesterday I heard of a little coincidence which quite amused me. One of our captains is not so broad and catholic as Theodore Parker, and very constantly manifests a jealous nature by petty complaints and watchings for evil. Yesterday morning he was speaking to me of the Col. And remarked that the only fault he could find with him was a lack of discipline, that the men ought not to be allowed to insult their officers without severe punishment. I replied that I did not know of an officer in the regiment who was obliged to cross the track of the men so much as I, and yet, without any specific control over any but those in the hospital department, I never dreamed of being insulted and that if I were, I should feel that the fault were mine. This captain happened to be the officer of the day and, towards evening, I noticed that he was looking very demure and that he was minus his sash. On inquiry I found he had permitted some slight improprieties among the men and that the Col. Promptly put another officer in his place. I have not heard of a better disciplinarian than Col. H. and I doubt not Capt. – is getting convinced on the same point.

Just now I found one of our men in a collapsed state which will prove fatal.

March 7.

This morning, at then, the John Adams hove in sight. The officers report fog so dense as the prevent running her over the bar at Fernandina. If the rebels are not duller than I think them, we shall suffer for this most annoying delay. My judgement of it is more severe than I can write.

The poor fellow whom I mentioned yesterday, died this morning. Were our men obliged to sleep aboard a few nights more, such deaths would be frequent. Yet I have everything done to prevent disease that, under the circumstances, can be done. Yesterday I found several ill on the Burnside, including Col. Montgomery and one of our best artillerists. Today all are in good condition and anticipating a fight.

Headquarters 1^st S.C. Vols., Jacksonville, Fla. March 12, 1863.

For once I have been so busy that I could not find time to not the thousand and one incidents of our expedition.

Tuesday morning, at two, our fleet of five steamers moved slowly up the St. Johns. Passed the yellow bluffs, the night glorious in its blue, misty moonlight, the river wide and beautiful. When daylight vame we were delighted by the scenery of the shores and the cosey looking homes scattered here and there.

Strange as it may seem, the rebels were taken by surprise and the city was neither defended nor burned and we landed without a gun being fired. One man came down to the wharf and caught the line when it was thrown off and the Col. Was the first to step on shore. Then followed Capt. Metcalf and Capt. Rogers with their men and soon other companies followed, till pickets were posted in the suburbs. Meanwhile, Col. Montgomery and Capt. Trowbridge with their men, started off in the direction of the rebel camp. The John Adams, Boston and Burnside remain at the wharves, while the Uncas and Norwich lie out in the stream.

We expect to hold this city, though I don’t see how it is to be done without reinforcements. Our men will do almost anything, but I don’t believe they can do so much picket service without exhaustion. Skirmishing is intensely exciting and they enjoy it beyond measure. Yesterday they brought in a saddle with some instruments that belonged to a surgeon of the cavalry who was shot through the head. At every fight our boys have put the rebels to flight, though they have twice made the attack with force superior to ours.

The rebel camp is eight miles out. It is not easy for us to know their exact force. Under the protection of our gunboats, we are safe, but we hope, ere long, to be safe under our own protection. Many of our men were slaves here, not long ago and you can scarcely imagine the horror and dread the secesh have of them. We have a few important prisoners, one who was a Lieut. in the U.S. Army and afterward in the Confederate Army.

Capt. Rogers is Provost Marshal and has his powers taxed considerably. He likes his work exceedingly and does it well. He rides a little secesh pony which he captured the first morning here. I am sick of “loyal slaveholders,” and would not resort to the blasphemy of administering the oath to them. I think we are not doing so much of this last as some commanders have done.

I should judge this to be a town of 4000 inhabitants. It has excellent wharves and large brick warehouses more than half a mile in length. The town gradually rises from the river, back a third or half a mile. Streets and houses have gas fixtures, a New England look to everything, streets beautifully shaded by live oaks, not and then a cornus Florida, the ground paved with its white petals,- peach trees in full bloom.

Our headquarters are grand. The new brick house we occupy was owned by Col. Sanderson, one of the ablest lawyers in the state and one of the most traitorous. He is in Dixie while his family is north. I just now asked Serg’t Hodges if he knew Sanderson. “Oh yes, I was one of the carpenters who worked many a hard day on that fine house.”

There are probably 400 or 500 people remaining here. If everything goes right I shall convert the Washington Hotel into a hospital. At present we keep sick and wounded on the John Adams.

This is the only place I have yet seem in the South that suits me for a residence. It is the most important position in Florida for us to hold. It has already been twice abandoned by our troops and it remains to be proved whether it must be abandoned a third time.

March 13, Evening

The night was not a very quiet one for our sentinels at the barricades, firing enough to keep all on the qui-vive, though no one was wounded on our sideand (sic) I cannot learn that anybody but a secesh dog was found dead on the other side. Expecting a noisy night and possibly a dangerous one, I slept, as heretofore, on the John Adams. Doing so gave the Col. a good opportunity for quietly saying thsi (sic) morning that he did not doubt Capt. Duncan of the Norwich would afford me greater security if I liked. Inasmuch as I am somewhat severe on cowards, I quite enjoyed the laugh brought upon myself. My presence here was entirely unnecessary, consequently I sought a place of less danger. I have not yet considered it quite prudent to bring the sick and wounded to a hospital on shore.

March 14, Evening.

A curious incident occurred this morning which gave me a full hundred (from both regiments) sick and wounded to examine and prescribe for and fill out my prescriptions. The John Adams started for a secret raid up the river at daylight, without notifying Dr Minor, the steward and the hospital nurse, who were all sleeping on the boat. It was good enough joke, but for me not so practical as to make me crave a repetition. Tonight our sick and wounded are in the hospital. Col. Montgomery thought the Lord had grown these handsome shade trees especially for barricades and I have never a doubt that the Washington Hotel, with its sixteen chambers, and a fire-place in each, was especially intended for a military hospital. Possibly it is because it seems to good to last that I deem it hazardous to bring our sick ashore, but the Colonels assure me it is perfectly save to do so. - - -

Our belligerent Chaplain is armed with a revolver on each side and a Ballard fifle (sic) on his back. He keeps so persistently on the advanced picket line that I could scarcely persuade him to conduct the funeral service of the poor fellow who was shot the other day. Today he got on the track of some cavalry and infantry and was certain of surrounding and capturing them if he could only get permission from the Colonel. His hatred of slavery is so intense that his prayers are of a nature to keep his powder dry.

We have burned a good many houses within a mile of town, to get rid of screens for the enemy between us and the woods, where rather formidable trees are being felled to complete our water barricade. The houses are often occupied by women and children whose husbands and fathers and in the Confederate service. The Chaplain, being a man of fire, has much to do with this matter. Today, I questioned him as to his usual mode of proceeding. I found he gave them the choice of the two governments, but with the explicit statement that their friends in arms were to be killed soon unless they came and surrendered. His division of the effects of these families seems rather scriptural. “What seems to belong to the woman, I yield to her, but what seems to belong to the man, I have brought into camp.”

Some of these cases are very pitiful and call out my deepest commiseration. Today I visited a poor widow who has a son in the rebel service. Her house was burning and she, with her children, was brought into town. She has not been able to walk a step during the last five months. On examination I found that her prostration was due entirely to privations and hardships resulting from the war. For more than a year her food has been “dry hominy” with now and then a little fish. She was born in Alabama of “poor white” parents. As I talked with her it seemed to me it must be difficult for her to understand the justice of our coming here to invade the homes of those who had always earned there bread by the sweat of their brows.

Yesterday I conversed with a lady who lives in a pleasant cottage, with her beautiful children and her aged mother. Her husband is a captain outside our barricades and when the Colonel granted her permission to go hwerever (sic) she chose, she said so many had gone from the river and coast towns to the interior that one could scarcely find a barn to stay in or food to subsist on. She remains here for the present. Her husband wasca (sic) music teacher and was taken into the army by conscription. From what I can learn of him through Union men, I have no doubt he would gladly return to loyalty. What are we do with such families? “Things are a little mixed” here in the South, but we must all suffer the results of our great national sin, some one way, some one another.

I have given out word that the Surgeon of our regiment will cheerfully and gladly attend to the medical needs of all cibilians (sic) here. To be the means of relieving suffering is sufficient compensation, but in this case there is the additional good of being able to make anti-slavery statements in a satisfactory way. - - -

I never supposed I could be so much gratified by comparatively level scenery. The river is very beautiful, - quite clear and of a deep amber color. I cannot tell you how much I enjoy my evening bath. Dr Minor usually goes with me, Once, while in the water, the companies were hurriedly ordered to “fall in”, but seemed so unnatural that one’s bathing should be interfered with that were not startled by the alarm.

We find the rebel women here exceedingly desirous to prove that our soldiers are guilty of all the outrages they might expect from along-injured people now in power. Many of our soldiers are natives of this place and meet their old mistresses here. On the day of our landing I was over and over implored, by those who knew their deserts, to protect them from the “niggers”. It was an awful turning of the tables. I quite enjoyed saying “These are United States troops and they will not dishonor the flag.” Several charges have been preferred against the soldiers, but thus far, when sifted down, have proved quite as much against those who complained as against our men. The Adjutant told me of a lady of easy manners, who had been very much insulted by a soldier. Close investigation proved that he actually sat on her front door-steps.

That our soldiers do some outrageous things, I have little doubt. When women taunt them with language most unbecoming, as they sometimes do, I should be very sorry if they did not return a silencer. Thus far they have behaved better than any white regiment has done under such temptations. They “confiscate” pigs and chickens because their captains connive at it and the Provost Marshall cannot do everything alone.

Today the John Adams and the Burnside are off on some speculation up the river. I was to busy to go with them this morning, or should have asked the privilege. Col. Montgomery has gone with his men. They declare that he is a “perfect devil to fight, he don’t care nuttin ‘bout de revels.” His bravery6 is apparently rashness but in reality, far from it. He evidently things the true mode of self=defense is to attack the enemy on his own ground.

Evening

About six, the Burnside came down the river with horses, hogs, chickens and prisoners. They took Col. Bryant, just as he returned to his plantation after running his negroes into the back county. They report great quantities of cotton and cattle up the river, so I hope we really are to have fresh beef again.

It is nothing like as damp and unwholesome here as in South Carolina. The same amount of exposure there that our men have had here, would have given the hospital twenty or thirty cases of pleurisy and pneumonia, while today, we have but a single case of acute inflammation. There is coughing enough to keep back several rebel regiments. I see no reason, however, why the officers should not get intermittent fever from this handsome river, by and by. It looks as if midsummer might load it with miasma and alligators.

- - - I am gradually confiscating furniture for my spacious chamber in the best house of this beautiful town, as if it were my final residence. I enjoy the long cedar closet that opens out of my room. The fragrance is so sweet that I cannot understand why moths object to it. Then just think of having a perfect bath room, without any water in it and costly gas fixtures without any gas. The war has greatly deranged the machinery of this town. Almost everywhere, except in this house, I have found the lead pipes cut by the rebels and used, I suppose, for bullets. When Col. Sanderson left here he placed his house in charge of a Union man, saying that it would naturally be the headquarters of any Union commander. Hence the more perfect preservation of the property.

March 16. Evening.

The second floors of the warehouses on Bay street make capital quarters for our troops. The rebels burning many of the stores of Union men and would have burned there private dwelling if it could have been done without endangering their own.

The provost marshal has worked very assiduously in collecting and preserving from destruction, furniture etc., left in the vacated houses. To be his “old Uncle” just now I find a great convenience. Today he sent up to my room the only spiral spring bed the town afforded. After three months of such hard fare I am not sure but so much luxury will make me effeminate. The old buffalo robe seems at home again and there is not an easier bed in the United States.

One of our pickets came in today with a conical ball in his food and complained that “de cunnel stood out forwad ob we looking at de revels wid de glass an wouldn’t let we fire.” The Col. afterwards told be that the range was so long that it would have been a great waste of ammunition.

The mosquitoes are here. I have always heard that they were as large as sheep. It is a mistake, they are not so large as rats. I think those I see are probably “spring poor”, at any rate they seem hungry, and, like the women and children, come in droves for rations.

This afternoon was the first opportunity I have found for a horseback ride. The little confiscated spirtfire kicked and pranced beautifully, but I found he could run, having been trained, I suppose for skedaddling. Walking is the last thing to be done here so long as you can get a horse or a boat. At present we can do but little of either, let we be shot by guerillas.

I asked Major Corwin, this morning, if he really liked Colonel Montgomery as much as he expected to, and was delighted by his saying, “A great deal better.”

March 17.

We are fairly at work at our legitimate business. The John Adams brought down, last evening, thirty contrabands, ten horse, and quantities of corn, hogs, cotton etc. Today the Burnside is off on a similar errand. Meanwhile our bays have hd (sic) a smart skirmish about a mile and a half out and burning several houses occupied by the rebel advance pickets. As we are not here to act aggressively against camp Finnegan, but simply to hold this town for headquarters, while making such advances from other points on the river as may seem best, it seems as if the enemy must have reached the conclusion, ere this, that we have means of defence (sic). It is a mystery that they do not contrive some way to burn us out. Women and children are permitted to go and come without hindrance and they could do us the greatest damage by going back to their friends by the light of the town. I trust they will not think of it.

March 18.

This morning a message came in by flag of truce camp Finnegan giving us 24 hours to send out the women and children to the brick church, were the skirmish was yesterday, and their teams will meet them there. The message was signed by Lieut. Col. McCormick. This afternoon another came from Col. Clinch repeating the former and adding that we should be held responsible for what might happen to those left in town. This looks as if they intend to approach the town with artillery and set it on fire with shells. This is feasible, in spite of our gunboats. If there is any pluck in them the attempt will be made. Many of our officers think the message a mere flourish for intimidation, but I do not and shall hold myself in readiness to send my sick and wounded to the steamer at short notice. Meanwhile we look for reinforcements by the Boston. Her delay is unaccountable.

Owing to hard fare and excessive fatigue, several of our officers are quite out of health. I am satisfied that the blacks have too much credit for good cooking. I have yet to find one who knows how to make bread or cook meat. If we hold this town we shall soon have “post oven” and good bread; getting rid of the villainous fried dough which is brining dysentery into camp.

March 19.

The provost marshal and major have been very busy today, escorting the rebel women and children to their friends. Major Strong told me that while the teams were unloading, the marshal sat on his pony whistling the John Brown hymn. As James was not permitted to talk, I suppose he had to whistle in self defense. I very much wanted to go, but could not get permission. I suppose the Col. is afraid I shall, sometime, go over the rebels. About one hundred and fifty have gone out today, leaving about two hundred hear. The Col. is under no obligation to force civilians out of town without positive notification from the enemy that he intends to attack.

March 20.

The enemy left us undisturbed during the night and I believe their chance has vanished with the rising of the morning’s sun. The Boston has arrived with the sixth Connecticut regiment and there are others to hand. Meanwhile our earthworks are so nearly completed that guns are mounted and a large force could easily be repulsed. But last night more than one officer slept with his boots on.

March 21.

Last night was dark and rainy with just wind enough to make sounds everywhere. At midnight, cannonading began at one of the forts and then followed shells for the gunboats. Our pickets were fired upon and there was general impression outside that all secesh was down upon us. But the enemy has not since been heard from. Today Major Strong went with skirmishers far beyond the accustomed line, without opposition. Cannonading in the night is hard for weak nerves and I dreaded the effect upon my sick. One of the convalescents was suddenly attacked with pleurisy in the night, and when I asked him about the time when the pain began, he replied, “Just after de gun done gone shoot.” Another, who had a bullet through his leg, said he had “enjoyed a mighty bad rest.” Tomorrow the Boston will take northward some important prisoners whom we have arrested here. Some of them were complaining of Capt. Randolph’s tardiness in having them examined, that when he arrested them he promised they should have an early trial. The Capt. replied that he would like to have them prove that he promised them anything but “they day of Judgment and long periods of damnation.”

I wish I has (sic) time to tell you some of the curious incidents of the last ten days. I dare say the Col.l has them all in his everlasting note book, so you will get them sometime.

Our regiment and the sixth Conn. met harmoniously at church this morning. The prejudice of the white soldiers is very strong, yet I trust there will be no serious collision. Our boys have seen hardships enough to unfit them for receiving taunts very graciously. The question begins to asked “When shall we make an advance?’

March 23.

The 8^th Maine arrived today and I am sorry that Col. Rust ranks our Col.

March 24.

Tonight the Paul Jones has returned from Palatka, bringing a single contraband and the intelligence that all the slaves ha