May 19.—Gen. Stoneman’s brigade of McClellan’s army advanced to within fourteen miles of Richmond, Va. They left their encampment near White House at daybreak this morning, and preceded by the signal corps, pushed on to a point six miles above Tunstall’s Station. Soon after they reached a position within four miles of the Chickahominy, where the signal corps discovered a body of rebel cavalry drawn up in line to receive them. The National pickets fell back a few yards, when one company of the Sixth United States cavalry came up and charged upon the rebels, driving them back and capturing two of their horses. The Nationals lost one horse.

—General Hunter’s proclamation, by which the slaves in Florida, Georgia, and South-Carolina, had been declared free, was officially repudiated and pronounced void by President Lincoln.— (Doc. 42.)

—Governor Yates, of Illinois, issued a proclamation calling for recruits to fill up the volunteer regiments from that State. Many of our regiments, he says, entered the field with numbers scarcely above the minimum. These have nobly done their duty, and many have purchased lasting honors with the price of their lives, and it remains only for us to maintain what they have achieved, and therefore I call upon the people of Illinois to raise men in every precinct in the State for the regiments that were sent from their own sections, to fill up their own companies. Relying upon the same patriotism that has thus far furnished a brave and noble host at the shortest notice, I send forth this proclamation, and confidently expect a prompt response that will maintain the present glory of our State.

—A reconnoissance was made to Clinton, nine miles, south of Newbern, N. C. The rebels’ advanced pickets were met, and a skirmish ensued, resulting in the loss of one Lieutenant and four privates belonging to the Nationals. The rebels lost nine killed and two prisoners.

—Lieutenant S. M. Whitesides, with eight men of company K, of the Sixth cavalry, captured a train of one hundred mules and eight contrabands belonging to the brigade of the rebel General Whiting, near the advance of General McClellan, en route for Richmond.

—The Legislature of Virginia adjourned in accordance with a resolution previously adopted. In the House of Delegates, the Speaker, Mr. Sheffey, of Augusta, delivered an affecting valedictory.—(See Supplement.)

—This afternoon a boat went ashore from the Wachusett, lying in the James River, Va., with a flag of truce, containing six officers and twelve men. The surgeon of the ship had been sent for from the shore, and the officers and the men, and the rest remained to guard the ship. For some reason, the party in the boat were fired on by some twenty or thirty men, and simultaneously the party on shore were attacked and all taken prisoners. Of the party in the boat, the master’s mate, Almy, of Philadelphia, and W. P. Pierce, seaman, were instantly killed. Henry Johnson was severely wounded in the face, breast, and neck; Brown, wounded in the kidneys; John Close, wounded in the thigh. The three latter were placed on the George Washington and carried to Fortress Monroe; but Brown, who was severely wounded, died in an hour after being put on board. Among the prisoners taken were Baker, engineer; Paymaster Stockwell; the Surgeon of the ship; Depford, signal officer, detailed from the army; Thos. Green, coxswain; J. O’Marley and Frank Cousin, seamen; and several others.—(Doc. 112.)

—John T. Monroe, Mayor of New Orleans, and other municipal officers of that city, were arrested by order of Gen. Butler, and sent to Fort Jackson.

Sunday!! Came again unawares upon me at Princeton. At 1 or 2 A. M. aroused to prepare to move. Moved off quietly; got off, again unmolested, to this point, viz., Bluestone River,

Mercer County, Virginia. I hope this is the last of the retreat. We have [the] Thirty-fourth, Twenty-eight, Twelfth, Twenty-third, Thirtieth, Thirty-seventh O. V. I.; Second Virginia Cavalry; and Simmonds’ and McMullen’s Batteries. The enemy reported to have three thousand or so under General Heth and five thousand or so under General Humphrey Marshall. The numbers are nothing, but at present our communications can’t well be kept up. All will soon be remedied under Fremont. Then, forward again! In the fights we have lost in our army, chiefly Thirty-seventh and Thirty-fourth, near one hundred killed, wounded, and prisoners.

18th.—The 16th was the day appointed by the President for fasting and prayer. The churches here were filled, as I trust they were all over the land.

MAY 18TH.—All quiet to-day except the huzzas as fresh troops arrive.

Sunday, 18th—Our brigade threw up four miles of fortifications, earthworks, and also forts for the artillery. We were expecting to be attacked by the rebels making an effort to turn our right flank, so we were in line of battle all day. The pickets have been fighting all day, for the only action taken by the rebels was trying to drive in our pickets.

Beaufort, S. C. May 18th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

I am going to write you a short letter to-night, as there are some rumors of business on hand this week, which may not leave me much time for correspondence. If it should turn out a false alarm, I will try and write again shortly. Time is slipping by rapidly, as my clothes testify especially, and unless I soon receive a reinforcement to my stock, I shall look like a “Secesh” after a twelve-month blockade. My present suit, after standing by me nobly for several months, seemed all of a sudden to give out all over, as you know clothes will do at times. Fact is, I supposed I should have been home for a few days long before now, but a favorable moment does not seem to turn up ready made to suit my case exactly. If you have a chance, please send me a cravat, as my own, under the influence of the weather, after passing through a thousand varieties of color, has finally settled into such rueful hues, that I have concluded to beg for another. Any lady that will make me a present of a new cravat, shall receive in exchange the old one as a specimen of what things come to after having been through the wars. A box of tooth-powder would likewise be acceptable as my teeth are getting quite shabby. Never mind, I will come home and get tinkered up one of these days, a thing I am mightily in need of. I wonder whether opening the Port of Beaufort will bring hitherward a large installment of the commerce of the world; if so, never mind about the tooth-powder.

We have all been pleasantly excited by the cunning escape of the negroes from Charleston with the Steamer “Planter.” The pilot, Robert, is the hero of the hour, and is really a most remarkable specimen of the dusky sons of Africa (alias nigger), never using a word of less than three syllables when an opportunity offers.

We all were in the habit of abusing Genl. Sherman in old times, but with customary fickleness, wish him back again now. This last batch of General officers with the “Great Superseder” (Hunter) at the head, is poor trash at best, so that there are few who would not rejoice to have “Uncle Tim” (Sherman) back again, notwithstanding his dyspepsia and peripatetic propensities. This is entre nous, and quite unofficial, for as my superior officer, I must recognize in the “Great Superseder” a miracle of wisdom, forecast and discretion. Oh my, what an ill-natured letter! Never mind, behind it all there is lots of love in it for those whose eyes it is likely to meet, and kisses too for my mother, sisters, nephews and others where they would be at once desirable and proper.

The “Connecticut” has arrived, but the mail has not been distributed yet.

Yours affec’y.,

W. T. Lusk.

18th.—Last night, after we had retired, the aids-de-camp of the several brigades, rode through the camp, and calling up the company commanders, read aloud: “Orders from Headquarters. Roll will beat at 5 in the morning. Army will move at half-past six, precisely.” All was bustle. The chests and boxes which had yesterday been packed for a move, in the morning, Unpacked in the afternoon, were again packed at night, which showed how eager our soldiers are to get to work. The roll, at 5 this morning, instead of calling them from their beds, summoned them to breakfast. They were ready, but had not finished their hurriedly prepared meal, when it was announced through the camp, “Order of last night, to move this morning, is countermanded.” If the oaths then perpetrated were recorded in heaven, the recording angel would certainly have been justified had he have “dropped a tear upon the page and blotted them out forever.” Our army swore terribly, but their ruffled feelings are now being calmed by the beautiful notes of Old Hundred, exquisitely performed by our band, and recalling, oh! how many sweet recollections of homes where many of us have, for the last time, had the warring elements of our souls soothed into quiet submission by the “peace, be still,” of this master piece of sacred music.

We are now in an intensely malarious region, with the sun’s scorching rays pouring on us, and our men coming down by scores daily. We have been nearly twelve months in the field, have fought but one battle, and I fear that General McClellan’s plan, to win by delay, without a fight, is poor economy of human life, to say nothing of the minor subject of wear and tear of patience; of the immense debt accumulating for somebody to pay, or of the major one of the effects of a protracted war on the morals of a nation.

May 18th. About noon we struck tents and marched four miles, towards the Chickahominy, this time bivouacking in the open field; the woods were too hot and close, and the pine ticks have ceased to be interesting; plenty of good springs about here with just a taste of civilization.

“S. R Spaulding,”
Off Headquarters, Army Of The Potomac,
White House, May 18.

Dear A., — My date will excite you. Yesterday, after getting off the “Knickerbocker” with three hundred sick on board, we transferred our quarters to this vessel, and started to run up the Pamunky. It was audacious of us to run this big ocean-steamer up this little river, without a chart and without a pilot. In some places we brushed the trees as we passed, for the water is said to be fifteen feet deep a yard from the shore. “What a garden land it is! Such verdure of every brilliant shade lining the shore, and broken into, here and there, by little creeks running up through meadow-lands into the misty blue distance. We anchored for the night off Cumberland,—the limit of my aspirations ; and I went to sleep in the still lingering twilight, listening to the whippoorwill. In the morning when I came on deck Mr. Olmsted called me forward into the bows: and what a sight was there to greet us! The glow of the morning mist, the black gunboats, the shining river, with the gleam of the white sails and the tents along the shore, made a picture to be painted only by Turner. We ran up to the head of the fleet, in sight of the headquarters of the army, to the burned railroad bridge, beyond which no one could go.

After breakfast we went ashore, where General Franklin met us and took us through part of his command, — through trains of army-wagons drawn by four mules; through a ploughed field across which mounted officers and their staffs were galloping at full speed; through sutlers’ tents and commissary stores, and batteries and caissons. It was like a vast fairground. We met one man eating six pies at once, and not a man without one pie! I wished intensely to stop at General Headquarters as we passed it. But to-day General McClellan is overborne by business: the army arrived here on the 16th; twelve scouting-parties are now out, some coming in every hour; McClellan himself is not able to speak an unnecessary word; a council is to be held this evening, to arrange the last details for the move to-morrow, — so we felt we ought not even to wish to see him.

General Franklin took us to the White House, — a house and estate just quitted by the family of a son of General Lee, whose wife was a Custis. I copied the following notice, written in a lady’s hand on a half sheet of note-paper, and nailed to the wall of the entrance: —

Northern soldiers! who profess to reverence the memory of Washington, forbear to desecrate the home of his first married life, the property of his wife, and now owned by her descendants.

A Granddaughter Of Mrs. Washington.

Underneath was written (in the handwriting, as I was told, of General Williams, Adjutant-General of the army): —

Lady, — A Northern soldier has protected this property within sight of the enemy, and at the request of your overseer.

And so it was. On reaching the spot, General McClellan would not even make his headquarters within the grounds. Guards were stationed at the gates and fences, on the lawns and the piazzas. Within, all was beautiful, untrodden, and fresh, while without was the tumult and trampling of war. Already the surrounding country was a barren and dusty plain. We walked through the grounds, across the peaceful lawns looking down upon the river crowded with transports and ammunition barges. We went through the house, which is a small cottage, painted brown, and by no means a white house. The carpets and a great part of the furniture had been removed, but enough remained to show that modern elegance had adorned the quaint old place. Washington never lived in the present house, which has been built on the site of the one in which he spent his early married life.

General Franklin allowed me to gather some ivy and some holly. We stayed nearly an hour, sitting on the piazza and talking to him. He struck me as an officer of power, — large, with square face and head, deep-sunk, determined blue eyes, close-cropped reddish-brown hair and beard. He told us that the battle of Williamsburg was full of anxiety from first to last, and that it took much to decide the final fortunes of the day; but at West Point, after the men were landed, he was not for a moment uneasy, the game was in our hands from the beginning. He feels, confident that the enemy will make a great resistance before Richmond; if not, it will be a virtual surrender of their cause, which he thinks they are far from making. Everything, he said, depended on the strength of our army, and he told us that McDowell was at last coming down on our right wing, which is to be extended to meet him. He spoke with the deepest confidence in McClellan, who, he said, was in good spirits, though fearfully overworked.

As we were leaving White House, General Fitz-John Porter came to meet us, and walked with us to our wharf, where we met General Morell; and they all came on board and stayed half an hour. I felt great interest in General Porter, who commands one corps d’armee, General Franklin commanding another. General Morell is also an interesting man; looks like dear father, but wears a long white beard. He received the command of a division yesterday. General Porter spoke of McClellan just as we all feel, — as a patriot as well as a general, as a man who wisely seeks to heal, as well as to conquer. There is a fine spirit in General Porter. He probably has less power than General Franklin, is more excitable and sympathetic; but there is an expression of devotion about him which inspires great confidence. They were all very guarded, of course, in what they said of the future; but two hours’ talk with such men in such places teaches much.

This afternoon General Seth Williams, Adjutant-General, came on board to pay his respects to Mrs. Griffin. His visit gave us all great pleasure. I am told that if any man possesses in an equal degree the respect and attachment of others, he does; and yet his quiet, modest manner and plain appearance would hardly instruct a stranger as to his position in the army. These gentlemen were accompanied by many young officers, all spurs and swords and clanking. They were thankful for some of our private stores, —needles, buttons, and linen thread were as much prized as beads by an Indian; and even hairpins were acceptable to General Porter, one button of whose cap was already screwed on by that female implement.

I am happy to say that there is no immediate chance of my being anywhere but here. “We came up for medicines and general information; the result is that Mr. Olmsted finds such a state of disorganization and sixes-and-sevenness in the medical arrangements that he has determined to make his headquarters here for the present. Mr. Knapp has therefore just started in the tug for Yorktown to bring up the supply-boats, and leave orders for our hospital fleet to follow us up the river as they arrive from the North.

The state of affairs is somewhat this: when the march from Yorktown began, and the men dropped by thousands, exhausted, sick, and wounded, the Medical Department, unprepared and terribly harassed, flung itself upon the Sanitary Commission. When it became known that our transports were lying in the river, the brigade-surgeons made a business of sending their sick on board of them; and the Medical Director sanctioned the practice. The hospitals at Yorktown, Fortress Monroe, and Newport News are full; the Commission has therefore been forced to take these men to the North. Nothing, of course, is more desirable for those who are seriously ill or badly wounded; but every man who falls exhausted from the ranks is sent to us. This will prove in the end actually demoralizing to the army if not checked. The men will come to think that illness, real or shammed, is the way to get home. Already suspicious rheumatic cases have appeared. Mr. Olmsted remonstrates against the system, but of course he has to act under the medical authority. What is wanted is a large receiving hospital in the rear of the army, which would keep the cases of exhaustion and slight illness, take good care of them for a week or two, and send them back to the front. Mr. Olmsted telegraphed to-day, advising the Surgeon-General to send sufficient hospital accommodation, bedding, and medicines for six thousand men. This ought to be done. Meantime we lie here, and may fill this ship, which is now all in order, to-morrow.

Could you but see the lovely scene around me! We have had a little service of prayer and hymns in the cabin, and now we are all — the “staff,” as we call ourselves — sitting at sunset on the deck, under an awning. We are anchored in the middle of the river, which is about three hundred yards wide at this point, and are slowly swinging at our anchor. We have dropped down the stream since morning. Scores of vessels — transports, mortar-boats, ammunition-barges—are close around us, and several gunboats. The regiments of Franklin’s corps are camped along the banks; the bands playing on one side, “Hail Columbia!” and, farther down, “Glory, Hallelujah!” The trees which fringe the shore lean towards us,— locust, oak, and the lovely weeping-elm. One of the latter throws its shadow across my paper as we have slowly swung into it. I have told Mr. Olmsted that, now that I feel at home in the work, I am not tied to Mrs. Griffin, but consider the protection of the Commission sufficient, and that if he wants me, I will stay by the work as long as there is any. I like him exceedingly, autocrat and aristocrat that he is; I feel that he would protect and guard in the wisest manner those under his care. The other gentlemen on board are Mr. Frederick N. Knapp, second to Mr. Olmsted, in charge of the supplies; Dr. Robert Ware, chief-surgeon; Messrs. Charles Woolsey, George Wheelock, and David Haight, his assistants.

Direct to me in future to the care of Colonel Ingalls, Quartermaster’s Department, Army of the Potomac — think of that!

May 18th.—Norfolk has been burned and the Merrimac sunk without striking a blow since her coup d’état in Hampton Roads. Read Milton. See the speech of Adam to Eve in a new light. Women will not stay at home; will go out to see and be seen, even if it be by the devil himself.

Very encouraging letters from Hon. Mr. Memminger and from L. Q. Washington. They tell the same story in very different words. It amounts to this: “Not one foot of Virginia soil is to be given up without a bitter fight for it. We have one hundred and five thousand men in all, McClellan one hundred and ninety thousand. We can stand that disparity.”

What things I have been said to have said! Mr. _____ heard me make scoffing remarks about the Governor and the Council—or he thinks he heard me. James Chesnut wrote him a note that my name was to be kept out of it—indeed, that he was never to mention my name again under any possible circumstances. It was all preposterous nonsense, but it annoyed my husband amazingly. He said it was a scheme to use my chatter to his injury. He was very kind about it. He knows my real style so well that he can always tell my real impudence from what is fabricated for me.

There is said to be an order from Butler¹ turning over the women of New Orleans to his soldiers. Thus is the measure of his iniquities filled. We thought that generals always restrained, by shot or sword if need be, the brutality of soldiers. This hideous, cross-eyed beast orders his men to treat the ladies of New Orleans as women of the town—to punish them, he says, for their insolence.

Footprints on the boundaries of another world once more. Willie Taylor, before he left home for the army, fancied one day—day, remember—that he saw Albert Rhett standing by his side. He recoiled from the ghostly presence. “You need not do that, Willie. You will soon be as I am.” Willie rushed into the next room to tell them what had happened, and fainted. It had a very depressing effect upon him. And now the other day he died in Virginia.

______

¹ General Benjamin F. Butler took command of New Orleans on May 2, 1862. The author’s reference is to his famous “Order No. 28,” which reads: ” As the officers and soldiers of the United States have been subject to repeated insults from the women (calling themselves ladies) of New Orleans, in return for the most scrupulous non-interference and courtesy on our part, it is ordered that hereafter when any female shall by word, gesture, or movement, insult or show contempt for any officer or soldier of the United States she shall be regarded and held liable to be treated as a woman of the town plying her vocation.” This and other acts of Butler in New Orleans led Jefferson Davis to issue a proclamation, declaring Butler to be a felon and an outlaw, and if captured that he should be instantly hanged. In December Butler was superseded at New Orleans by General Banks.

May 18.—A skirmish took place near Searcy, on the Little Red River, Arkansas, between one hundred and fifty men of Gen. Osterhaus’s division, and some six hundred rebels, under Colonels Coleman and Hicks, in which the latter were routed, with a loss of one hundred and fifty left on the field and quite a number wounded.

—A fight took place at Princeton, Va., between the Nationals under the command of General Cox and a body of rebels under Humphrey Marshall, in which the Nationals lost thirty killed and seventy wounded.

—S. Phillips Lee, United States Navy, commanding the advance naval division on the Mississippi River, demanded the surrender of Vicksburgh to the authority of the United States.— (Doc. 111.)

Saturday, May 17. — A very hard day, — muddy, wet, and sultry. Ordered at 3 A. M. to abandon camp and hasten with whole force to General Cox at Princeton. He has had a fight with a greatly superior force under General Marshall. We lost tents, — we slit and tore them, — mess furniture, blankets, etc., etc., by this hasty movement. I was ordered with the Twenty-third, Gilmore’s Cavalry, and two pieces McMullen’s Battery, to cover the retreat to Princeton. We did it successfully, but oh, what a hard day on the men! I had been up during the night, had the men out, etc., etc. We were all day making it. Found all in confusion; severe fighting against odds and a further retreat deemed necessary. Bivouacked on the ground at Princeton.

Mem.: — I saved all my personal baggage, tent included; but no chance to use it at Princeton.

May 17 — Renewed our march down the Valley. At New Market we left the Valley pike, turned east and moved down the Luray pike two miles to Smith’s Creek, and camped. The Yanks destroyed nearly all the fences along the Valley pike and around New Market.

MAY 17TH.—Gen. Lee has admonished Major Griswold on the too free granting of passports. Will it do any good?

Saturday, 17th—We were ordered to strike tent and march out to the picket line and form in line of battle. Here we remained in line until after dark. There was heavy cannonading and musketry firing all along the line and it continued all day. We pitched our tents in a heavy piece of timber and established camp number 8, in our siege of Corinth.

May 17th. Got under way at five o’clock, A. M., and steamed along very slowly, owing to our burning bituminous coal, of which we had taken a little. At about noon we were obliged to anchor to get up steam, and as usual a boat put off to the nearest house for officers’ stores. Happening to anchor in an eddy, we were in imminent danger of being dashed on the levee. At another time, when we anchored in seventy fathoms of water, the ship continued to whirl round and round until we again weighed. We were soon under way again, and having substituted anthracite coal for the other, had no further difficulty. The banks were lined with cotton, and the river was so high that the levee was seldom visible; private dwellings were partly submerged, and in many instances all that could be seen of buildings was their roofs peering out of the water, and reminding one of the late style of rams; in fact, the river was said to be higher than before known for thirty years.

We frequently came upon portions of the river which seemed to terminate the great stream, and surrounded it on all sides with earth and trees; at such a place we arrived near sunset, and anchored for the night, though not until we had discovered that the stream continued. A boat went ashore for fresh meat, and returned about one o’clock, A. M., with a slaughtered bull and some mutton, for which, as usual, we paid gold.

May 17th.

One of these days, when peace is restored and we are quietly settled in our allotted corners of this wide world without any particularly exciting event to alarm us; and with the knowledge of what is now the future, and will then be the dead past; seeing that all has been for the best for us in the end; that all has come right in spite of us, we will wonder how we could ever have been foolish enough to await each hour in such breathless anxiety. We will ask ourselves if it was really true that nightly, as we lay down to sleep, we did not dare plan for the morning, feeling that we might be homeless and beggars before the dawn. How unreal it will then seem! We will say it was our wild imagination, perhaps. But how bitterly, horribly true it is now!

Four days ago the Yankees left us, to attack Vicksburg, leaving their flag flying in the Garrison without a man to guard it, and with the understanding that the town would be held responsible for it. It was intended for a trap; and it succeeded. For night before last, it was pulled down and torn to pieces.

Now, unless Will will have the kindness to sink a dozen of their ships up there, — I hear he has command of the lower batteries, — they will be back in a few days, and will execute their threat of shelling the town. If they do, what will become of us? All we expect in the way of earthly property is as yet mere paper, which will be so much trash if the South is ruined, as it consists of debts due father by many planters for professional services rendered, who, of course, will be ruined, too, so all money is gone. That is nothing, we will not be ashamed to earn our bread, so let it go.

But this house is at least a shelter from the weather, all sentiment apart. And our servants, too; how could they manage without us? The Yankees, on the river, and a band of guerrillas in the woods, are equally anxious to precipitate a fight. Between the two fires, what chance for us? It would take only a little while to burn the city over our heads. They say the women and children must be removed, these guerrillas. Where, please? Charlie says we must go to Greenwell. And have this house pillaged? For Butler has decreed that no unoccupied house shall be respected. If we stay through the battle, if the Federals are victorious, we will suffer. For the officers here were reported to have said, “If the people here did not treat them decently, they would know what it was when Billy Wilson’s crew arrived. They would give them a lesson!” That select crowd is now in New Orleans. Heaven help us when they reach here! It is in these small cities that the greatest outrages are perpetrated. What are we to do?

A new proclamation from Butler has just come. It seems that the ladies have an ugly way of gathering their skirts when the Federals pass, to avoid any possible contact. Some even turn up their noses. Unladylike, to say the least. But it is, maybe, owing to the odor they have, which is said to be unbearable even at this early season of the year. Butler says, whereas the so-called ladies of New Orleans insult his men and officers, he gives one and all permission to insult any or all who so treat them, then and there, with the assurance that the women will not receive the slightest protection from the Government, and that the men will all be justified. I did not have time to read it, but repeat it as it was told to me by mother, who is in utter despair at the brutality of the thing. These men our brothers? Not mine! Let us hope for the honor of their nation that Butler is not counted among the gentlemen of the land. And so, if any man should fancy he cared to kiss me, he could do so under the pretext that I had pulled my dress from under his feet! That will justify them! And if we decline their visits, they can insult us under the plea of a prior affront. Oh! Gibbes! George! Jimmy! never did we need your protection as sorely as now. And not to know even whether you are alive! When Charlie joins the army, we will be defenseless, indeed. Come to my bosom, O my discarded carving-knife, laid aside under the impression that these men were gentlemen. We will be close friends once more. And if you must have a sheath, perhaps I may find one for you in the heart of the first man who attempts to Butlerize me. I never dreamed of kissing any man save my father and brothers. And why any one should care to kiss any one else, I fail to understand. And I do not propose to learn to make exceptions.

Still no word from the boys. We hear that Norfolk has been evacuated; but no details. George was there. Gibbes is wherever Johnston is, presumably on the Rappahannock; but it is more than six weeks since we have heard from either of them, and all communication is cut off.

17th. Saturday. Went up town and saw George Ashman. Went to the hotel and got breakfast. Cooked our own meals. Letter from Fannie Andrews.

17th.—But little worthy of note to-day, except the increasing impatience of the army. They begin to complain of the Commander in Chief, and, I fear, with some ground of justice. This morning the whole plain of 80,000 men, with its five hundred wagons, ambulances and carts, its five thousand horses, and all the paraphenalia of the army, was ordered to be ready to move at 12 M., precisely. At 11 we ate our dinners; then came the details of men for loading the heavy boxes and chests, striking, rolling and loading tents, which, by hard work, was accomplished by the hour fixed, and noon found us all in column; the word “march” was given, and off we started; moved about fifteen rods, wheeled (teams and all) out of the road into a beautiful field of wheat; wheeled again, and in a few minutes found ourselves right where we started from, with orders to unload and pitch tents. A few regimental groans went up as complimentary of the movement, and in two hours we were again settled. The object of this movement is now known to me, and so small and contemptible was it, so mixed up with the gratification of a petty vindictiveness, that, for the honor of the army, and some of its sub-commanders, I leave it unrecorded, hoping to forget it.

“S. R Spaulding,” Pamunky River, May 17.

Dear Mother, — This has been a delightful day. The “Knickerbocker” got safely off at five o’clock this morning, after a rather anxious night. One of the men from the “Elizabeth” died, and another jumped overboard. He rushed past me and sprang from the bulwark. I heard the splash, but all that I, or any one, saw of him were the rings in the water widening in the moonlight. Boats were put off immediately, but he never rose.

Last night, being off duty, I went round to a number of Rhode Island men who were on board, and wrote letters or took messages for them. A coincidence—a real coincidence — occurred. I had heard Mr. Knapp telling Mr Olmsted of the death of a Newport man, David A. Newman, Fourth Rhode Island Volunteers. I asked for his effects, that I might some day take them home with me. In searching for them, a knapsack marked “Simeon A. Newman, Fourth Rhode Island Volunteers,” turned up without its owner, who had died in Washington in December, 1861. This knapsack had wandered on with the regiment; by chance it got on board our boat; by chance it came under my notice; by chance I spoke of it to one of the Rhode Island men, who said: “I know a man who knew Simeon A. Newman, and he is sick on board here now.” I hunted him up; he proved to be the nearest friend of S. A. Newman, who was color-sergeant of the regiment, and was with him when he died. He told me that after his death the widow wrote to beg that his sash might be sent to her; but though every effort was made, the widow writing again and again for it, it could never be found. I went at once to the knapsack, and there was the sash. I have sent them by express to Bristol, R. I., where the widow lives.

After the “Knickerbocker” was off we “took it easy;” came out to breakfast at ten o’clock, and transferred ourselves leisurely to this ship, which is a palace to us. We were rather subdued by our grandeur at dinner. Hotel-fare and men to wait upon us is rather elevating after eating salt-beef with our fingers. After dinner we ran up to West Point, where the York River forks, the northern branch being the Mattapony (pronounced Mattaponi); the other the Pamunky, along the line of which the army has advanced, — through the thirteen thousand acres granted by Charles II. to Ralph Wormeley 2d; strange, is n’t it, that I should be here now? They have had the pluck to run this huge vessel up this little river, without a chart, and not a soul on board who has been here before. The passage has been enchanting; we ran so close to the shore that I could almost have thrown my glove upon it. The verdure is in its freshest spring beauty; the lovely shores are belted with trees and shrubs of every brilliant and tender shade of green, broken now and then by creeks, running up little valleys till they are lost in the blue distance. I saw the beginning of the battle-field of Williamsburg (“long fields of barley and of rye” but a week ago), and the whole of the battle-field of West Point, still dotted with the hospital-tents, from which we have cleared out all the wounded.

The sun set as we rounded the last bend in the Pamunky; the sky and the water gleamed golden alike, and the trees suddenly grew black as the glow dazzled our eyes. We dropped anchor off Cumberland at dusk, and have just left the deck (on sanitary principles), where we were sitting to enjoy the lovely lights and listen to the whippoorwill. This is yachting on a magnificent scale; we feel rather ashamed of our grandeur, and eager to get back to a tugboat again. This vessel, which used to be a fine passenger steamship, has been employed by the Government as a transport for major-generals and their train. This accounts for the style in which she is equipped and manned. She is now filled with workmen, putting up three tiers of hospital-bunks in the hold and on the forward main-deck; after that is finished we shall begin to fit up the wards. To-day we have organized the pantry and store-rooms.