Saturday, 8th—Captain Spencer returned to our company today. He is in ill health and it is supposed that he has consumption. He is a fine officer, tall, and as straight as an arrow. He is kind to his men at all times, on or off duty. We still have dress parade every evening.
July 2015
Saturday, July 8.—What excitement there must have been in Washington yesterday over the execution of the conspirators. It seems terrible that Mrs. Surratt should have deserved hanging with the others. I saw a picture of them all upon a scaffold and her face was screened by an umbrella. I read in one paper that the doctor who dressed Booth’s broken leg was sentenced to the Dry Tortugas. Jefferson Davis, I suppose, is glad to have nothing worse served upon him, thus far, than confinement in Fortress Monroe. It is wonderful that 800,000 men are returning so quietly from the army to civil life that it is scarcely known, save by the welcome which they receive in their own homes.
July 8th, 1865.—Things go from bad to worse. Father has been sick for several days; not very sick at first, but he grew worse and yesterday and today we have felt uneasy about him and our doctor brother has been with him until this morning. Mother’s room never looked cleaner or cooler, or daintier than it did today. Father’s room opens into hers and everything, in both rooms,, except the mahogany furniture was white. These apartments were always clothed in the crispest, snowiest of draperies during the summer months; even the cushioned chairs wore white dresses in summer.
Father was sleeping, Mother sat reading her Bible by the west window. Into this pure and peaceful atmosphere walked Peggy, unkempt, unwashed, dirty and disgusting beyond description.
Mother looked up from her Bible and asked, “What can I do for you Peggy?” I was arranging a bowl of roses out in the hall and hearing voices, came into the room.
“I is jis’ kum fur a visit Miss Patsey,” and, with that she came forward and seated herself in one of the large, white-cushioned rockers.
“Get up Peggy,” said Mother, but Peggy tossed her knotty head.
“I ain’t agwine ter git up. De ladies what kums here sets in dese cheers an’ I is jis’ as good as dey is.”
What a picture she made, leaning back, her dirty head making dirty prints on the chair cover, her scaley feet stuck straight out before her and the most impudent expression on her black face that you ever saw.
My diary, I was so angry I could scarcely see. I fear I am not of much use in an emergency but Sister Mart is and she rose quickly to the occasion. Calling Bill and Fannie to help her, she forced Peggy to leave the house.
We thought the incident was disposed of, but no, Peggy went straightway to Centreville and reported to the military authorities that “Miss Patsey done gie me a insult.”
Finding that she really had been forcibly ejected from the house, they sent an orderly with a note saying Mother must apologize at once to Peggy or she would be arrested at twelve o’clock on the following day and tried before the court presided over by Lieutenant Zachendorf. These may not be the words he used but I am giving the gist of the note.
Father was too ill to tell him of it, and Mother does not think anything will be done but we are terribly anxious. Sister Mart has made a plan, which I hope will prove to be the right thing. She has bound me over to secrecy and she and Jordan and Fannie have had a confidential talk. Early in the morning Jordan is to have the carriage at the door and Fannie will be in readiness to accompany Sister Mart to Tallahassee to interview General Foster. She will get Uncle Arvah to go with her to call on the general. She will hurry back and I must keep mother in good heart until she gets home.
7th. Spent the day reading “Eliana” of Lamb’s and “Oliver Twist.” Much interested in both. In evening, Mr. McC. and Brown held a meeting near Post Hdqrs. Sang patriotic songs first, then a religious meeting. Several spoke. 1500 present. 800 rose for prayers. Very affecting. Mrs. Searle and other ladies out. Felt much benefited myself.
July 7th. Up early this morning. Waiting for our turn to come for our pay and discharge.
July 7th, 1865. The Eighteenth Regiment, Connecticut Volunteers, disbanded. Its members free citizens again. The separation was somewhat sad. We were happy that the end had come. Now came the last good-bye, as we grasped each other by the hand, looking into each other’s face, sad but happy. Our soldier life had come to an end. No more picket and guard duty. No more marching by day and night in all kinds of weather. No more camp life, sleeping on the ground in all kinds of weather. No more the long roll to call us out in the night. No more the danger from battle, sickness, or suffering from hunger and thirst. These things all helped to make the life of a soldier a very serious one. Left Hartford at 6 P. M. bound for Norwich, singing “Oh Happy Day.”
Friday, 7th—Our officers have commenced to make out the discharge papers and the muster rolls. The blanks came this morning and the officers of each company have expert penmen at work filling them out.
6th. Yesterday Robert Brown came here to the Christian Commission. Went with him to see J. R. Davies and Bostwick. Made an engagement to go to tea today, but Brown did not get around in time. Had a pleasant evening chat with Cousin Sarah and Miss Tripp, Barney, Mrs. Forbes and Mrs. Daily also.
July 6th. Returned to Hartford to receive our final discharge. Waiting. Reported we must pass one more night in camp. We won’t mind a little thing like that. Tomorrow we will go free.
Thursday, 6th—It is hot and sultry, but as our duty is light we can stay in our “ranches” and keep out of the hot sun. All are happy at the thought of going home soon.
Madison, Thursday, July 6. In accordance to orders I reported at Madison in company with Sister Mary and Brother John. Found an officer with great difficulty and was told that I was not needed until the 11th.
