Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

24th. Didn’t wake up till ten o’clock. Quite a joke. Lost our breakfast. Went to camp in time for dinner. Very hot day. June and other 2nd Ohio boys over to see me. Rained in the night. Thundershower.

June 24th. Yesterday afternoon our regiment formed at camp, marched into town. Line was formed fronting headquarters, for dress parade and review by our Colonel. To our great surprise, sitting on the veranda at the house used for headquarters, with Colonel Peale, was the archtraitor, Charles J. Faulkner, hated by the Union people and despised by the soldiers. The home in this town was reported to be a great resort for spies. Much information went from that home, south. On the march back to camp the boys were mad through and through. Did not want to be paraded and reviewed by a mean rebel like Faulkner and family.

Saturday, 24th—Weather pleasant. The Fifteenth Iowa received their pay today. I received a pass, and in charge of four boys of the company spent the day in Louisville. The city is patrolled by large numbers of provost guards and I had to carry my pass in hand all the time. I bought some clothes and several articles to take home. My bill came to $26.40, as I spent $8.50 for a pair of pants, $9.00 for a jacket, and $3.75 for an album, besides other articles.

Chattanooga, Saturday, June 24. A dull, quiet morning until 9 A. M. when I was ordered to the guard house for duty. Three of us reported there. We were to guard prisoners to work on the road leading to water. Kanouse took them out two hours before noon; reported at camp for dinner. After dinner laid in guard house all day. Relieved at night by officer of the day, having done nothing. No great stir.

June 24th, 1865.—Mid-summer day. I long to go to the woods, down to the “Fairy Dell,” where the wonderful spring is bubbling musically and little Mabel is filling her pitcher with the sparkling waters. I seem to hear my sweet sister’s voice again as she pressed me to her side and repeated,

“ ‘Tis good to make all duty sweet,

To be alert and kind,

‘Tis good, like little Mabel,

To have a willing mind.”

I cannot go to the Fairy Spring, however, it is a full half mile from the house and even our own woods are no longer safe from intrusion. The negro soldiers are everywhere. We are spied upon by our own servants at every turn and so we do not feel safe to get out of hearing of the rest of the family, unattended.

Though the war is over we have not replenished our wardrobes; this for the good and sufficient reason that we have no money, something new to us. Never before have we known the lack of it. Indeed, in the days of the Southern Confederacy we had it in such quantities that it has been said by some wag: “In days gone by, the Southerner went to town with his pocket full of money and took along a wagon to take his purchases home; in these war times, he takes a wagon load of money to town and brings back his goods in his pocket.” Well, we will get used to it after a while.

But to go back to the scant wardrobe. When the Club meets we like to look as brother Junius says, “As pretty as pinks,” and, with that end in view, I have been hard at work remodeling a dress. It is of white Paris muslin, trimmed with baby ribbon in a pale shade of blue. Again Sister Mag has come to the rescue and has lent me a lovely white sash, edged with picots of blue, which exactly matches my ribbon. A lucky girl, am I not? Will I look pretty in it, little Diary?