War Letters of William Thompson Lusk.

Maryland,

Camp Causten, Aug. 17th, 1861.

My dear Mother:

This has been a busy and painful week for the officers of the Highland Regiment. You have seen various accounts of our troubles in the papers, but they contain nothing authentic, although perhaps about as much as an outsider can understand. The mutiny of Thursday is only the legacy of a quarrel begun among the officers before the Regiment left for the seat of war. The quarrel ended after the battle of Bull Run, in the resignation of several of the officers whose ambition was disappointed as to governing the affairs of the Regiment. Not content with withdrawing their services, these men resolved to undermine the Regiment itself. Their plans were well laid. In an underhand way they conveyed papers among the men purporting that as State Militia they were entitled to return home at the expiration of three months service, but that an effort would be made to detain them for the war. By going home, it was represented the men would receive a grand ovation, would meet their families, and be enabled to tell their tale of the Bull Run battle. Those who had had enough of fighting could resume their old employments, while the greater part who were ready to re-enlist for the war, would be entitled to the re-enlistment bounty of $30. A Government which would give $30 bounty for re-enlisted three month soldiers must place a high value upon them. “Now,” the men were told, “a secret plan has been formed to prevent your return home at all. Lieut.-Col. Elliott has received from Government $10,000.00 to sell you all for the war, and to cheat you of your rights and privileges.” Some little things occurred which, as far as the men were concerned, seemed corroborative of these statements, viz: — An order which had been issued by the Secretary of War for us to return to New-York to recruit was recalled as inexpedient on the day the three-month service of our men expired. This was sufficient for them. They believed they had been sold; and the train which had been carefully laid exploded upon our being ordered, not into the boat for home, but onto the road into Maryland. Since the battle, owing to the loss through resignations or deaths, of our Colonel, Major and 9 of the 10 Captains, besides that of many of the Lieutenants, we were left in a condition peculiarly unfavorable to discipline; and this much is to be said, that the companies of Captain Ellis (my own) and that of Captain Elliott, which were provided with officers, obeyed their orders, and refused to join the mutineers. The mutiny commenced in the morning by the men’s refusing to strike their tents as commanded. They were to have been struck at 5 a.m. and the Regiment was to move at 6 o’clock. Col. Stevens repeated the orders, but they were still silently and sullenly neglected. He then went among the men and used all his powers of persuasion, but they had been told that they had the law on their side, and, if they only persevered, they would be able to return home as a militia regiment. Col. Stevens next went to each company singly and read the articles of war, appending to them such remarks as would enforce in the men the danger of their course; but by this time, the camp, left without sentry, became exposed to the whiskey dealers,who made good use of their opportunities. Soon a scene of the wildest confusion took place. The soldiers, throwing off all authority, presented the hideous and disgusting spectacle of a debauched and drunken Helotry. It was a time trying to one’s nerves — more trying far than the musketry or cannonading of Bull Run. The Colonel ordered the officers to strike the tents themselves. This we did amid the jeers, the taunts, and the insults of an infuriated mob. One man brought me his gun, cocked it, showed me it was capped, and reminded me it was intended for one officer at least to die, should our release be attempted. Still we worked quietly on, obeying our orders. Some of the Lieutenants were allowed to take down the tents undisturbed, but on leaving them a moment, they were again pitched by the men. Everywhere we were threatened, and it became equally necessary to show neither fear of the men, nor, on the other hand, to allow ourselves any act of violence which would precipitate bloodshed. Luckily for us, when the men were most maddened by drink, an old country quarrel broke out among them, viz: — the feud between the Orangemen and the Ribandmen, which we only know of through English novels, and history. We were not, however, altogether forgotten. Names neither poetical, decent, or complimentary were freely bestowed upon us. Finally afternoon advanced, and nothing was gained. The Colonel called on the men for the last time to render obedience. Soberness and reflection had begun their work upon a few. These fell into their places, and were stationed around the Camp as a guard over the others. Still, though thus yielding, their sympathies were either extended to their mutinous comrades, or else they were too fearful to render much assistance. It was necessary for the officers to be everywhere, and I confess I was quite exhausted when a body of cavalry and a line of infantry appeared, coming toward us. This was a great relief. The mutineers, all unconscious, were surrounded, and, when it was too late to resist, obeyed the orders issued, a death penalty being promised to those who wavered. You have seen in the papers the punishment awarded to the Regiment — the taking of our colors and the disgrace from which we are suffering.

Dear Mother, I feel heartsick and much depressed. I begin to repent bitterly of having cast my lot with a foreign Regiment. Our men have not the feelings of Americans, and cannot, when a reverse comes, be inspired to renewed efforts by enthusiasm for the cause. I am eager for another battle in order that we may have an opportunity to regain our colors, yet dread to risk it now that our men are much demoralized. I wish old Connecticut had a place for me.

Col. Stevens, who is an able man, thinks though, in less than a month he can make us once more the finest Regiment in the field. These stories regarding the Lieut.Col. are simply absurd. I have just received a letter from you. I endorse fully the bravery of Gen’l Tyler. His chief fault was his paying the Connecticut Volunteers the high compliment of believing they could fight like veterans, a compliment not at all to the taste of the Connecticut boys.

Good bye, dear mother.

Love to sisters and all.

Affec’y.,
W. T. Lusk.

_______

Note. — Dr. Lusk once said that at the time of the mutiny among the 79th Highlanders he had one of the narrowest escapes of his life. A drunken soldier pointed a rifle at his head and fired, but a friend seeing the danger, knocked the muzzle of the gun in the air, just in time to avert catastrophy. In narrating this episode Dr. Lusk remarked with characteristic modesty, “You know I never was very brave, but when the men refused to strike the tents, the officers had to do it themselves.”

Meridian Hill, Washington.

Aug. 11th, 1861.

My dear Mother:

I have been overjoyed by a visit from Hunt, who has now probably returned home and reports me hearty and well. I have been fortunate in meeting several friends most unexpectedly during the last few days. Miss Woolsey was at our encampment on some errand of mercy yesterday evening. I saw her for a few moments, and promised to call upon her and Mrs. Howland soon, which I shall do if allowed to leave the camp. The laws are very strict though now, and I doubt whether I shall be able to leave the camp for some time to come. We are now going through a stage dreaded by all officers in the army, viz: that immediately following upon pay-day. Notwithstanding the utmost precautions the men contrive to obtain liquor, and when intoxicated are well-nigh uncontrollable, so that the utmost vigilance is needful. As the number of our officers is but small we are kept almost constantly active. When the money is once spent we will then breathe more freely. To-morrow I am to be the officer commanding the Guard, so I am scribbling a few lines rapidly to-night, as I shall be too busy to attend to such things to-morrow, and the following day too exhausted to do much after twenty-four hour’s exertion. You see all the labors of an officer generally are compressed into short seasons of unexampled labor, and long periods of repose. We have now a new Colonel — Governor Stevens of Washington Territory. He seems to be a first class man. His advent among us was inaugurated by an order for us young officers to leave the pleasant rooms we occupied when Hunt was with us, and to return to our tents. This was as it should be; and other strict measures toward officers and men show that he is the right sort of a commander for a Regiment like ours, requiring a strong firm hand to govern it. I trust we may continue to be satisfied with him as our chief officer.

I begin to regard it as a little doubtful as to whether we really return to New York. Military men regard such a movement as unprecedented, and as affording a dangerous example. We will see how it is to end. You ask me regarding Gen’l Tyler! I will answer with all candor that he acted with the utmost bravery on the day of the fight. It was owing to his prompt and energetic action that once, after our Regiment was scattered, when weary and exhausted, having also (Elliott assisting) the additional burden of our wounded Captain to bear away, we escaped a cavalry charge in which many of our men were taken prisoners. When the cavalry came in sight, and all was in confusion, you could hear his quick, sharp voice rallying the disheartened to make such a stand as alone would ensure them victory. The men rallied, poured a volley of musketry into the foe galloping upon us, at the same time giving them two fatal shots from a couple of artillery pieces which luckily were in our possession— at which time I must mention the activity displayed by Ned Harland too. The fire was effective, the cavalry retreated and we marched on unharmed. Such things should shut the mouths of slander. Gen’l Tyler unfortunately played a leading part in a fatal engagement, and consequently must bear an undue share of blame. His great fault seems to have been an overweening confidence in our strength, and a great undervaluation of the enemy. Since the fight I regret to say a spirit of bitterness pervades his conversation as well as his official report of the battle.

I have just seen Lieut.-Col. Elliott, and feel more reason to hope we may return, as was before promised. Give the best of love to all,

And believe me,

Very Affec’y-,

William T. Lusk.

Meridian Hill, Washington,

Aug. 1st, 1861.

Dear Cousin Lou:

I am seated in my tent, the rain is pouring in torrents, and I am at leisure to think of friends at home. You see whom I was first remembering, not having forgotten the kind letter which Mr. Houston brought me from Thompsonville, when I was somewhere over in Virginia. I thank you so much for all the dear, kind expressions of love your letter contained.

Oh! Ah! Here come about twenty-five men or more with complaints, and as the Captain is away, I must straighten up, and play the part of Magistrate. Oh Olympian Jove! Oh Daniel risen to judgment! The malcontents have been severally coaxed, wheedled, threatened, and sent about their business, and the Centurion is once again at leisure. A pleasant thing is this exercise of power, especially when commands can be given in the quietest manner possible, and yet to feel that from your judgment there can be no appeal. In fact, dear Cousin Lou, imagine me when the Captain is away, performing the paternal function towards some hundred grown up children. Ah me! I am growing venerable and cares are weighing heavily upon me.

But I must not forget that I am a veteran soldier now. Poor Horace! How I shall assume superior airs, tell him, when I return home! In fact when,one of these days, I get a furlough and am surrounded by friends, how I shall exercise my soldier’s privilege of drawing the long bow! In my first battle, of course, I performed the most remarkable deeds of daring. I shall not pretend to tell you how many Secessionists I killed! Between ourselves though, in all privacy, I will confess that the fearful weapon with which I struck such terror in the hearts of the enemy, was a toy wooden sword, captured by one of our men from a secession boy-baby. In the great battle of Manassas, holding the occasion to be one of greater moment, I made the charge armed with a ramrod, which I picked up on the way thither! I acknowledge I found the work hotter than I anticipated in the latter engagement, and mean in future to go armed in regulation style. The truth of the matter was, that being ordered suddenly to march from our pleasant encampment in Georgetown, I was found unprepared, and must either stay behind, or trust to my pistol in case of emergency. I preferred the latter, and the kind Providence has brought me safely through the fiery ordeal through which we all had to pass. What think you, dear Cousin Lou ,of our miserable defeat? It seems hard, as we lost many good men out of our Regiment on that bloody day. I saw many things never to be forgotten. No matter for sickening details though. The ground lost must be recovered at any cost. We have lost out of the 800 who went into the engagement about 150 in killed and wounded, besides some fifty more numbered among the missing. Hardship and exposure have caused much sickness in the camp. Most of the liquor-dealing Captains and Lieutenants who commanded before the battle have resigned, many others are dead or in the hands of the enemy —so I can give no very cheerful picture of our camp at present. We are to be soon thoroughly reorganized, to be cared for tenderly by the President and Secretary of War, to be recruited to the army standard, and when once more discipline shall be enforced, we trust that the 79th will be able to charge as gallantly as at Manassas, but that the charge may result not in mere loss of life, but in glorious victory.

You would be much entertained, could you only see behind the scenes, at the daring feats of individuals, which are passing the rounds of the papers. A specimen is afforded by a story I read in the Herald of a certain Captain _____ who is reported to have repeatedly rallied the men of the 79th and led them back to battle. Now the fact is that Captain _____ never was within three days journey of the battle, and moreover, at least ten days before the engagement the Colonel threatened him with arrest should he dare to show himself in the Regiment. Captain _____ wrote the article himself, and had it published. This is only an isolated example of the manner by which this war is made to subserve the dirtiest of politicians. I have had no letter from Horace, and but few from home since I left New-York. I suppose some of the letters addressed to me have been captured by the Secessionists, and have been perused with the same gusto that we felt when a package of the enemy’s letters fell into our hands. Of course we had to read them to glean as far as possible the state of political feeling in the South, and I blush to say we read with special interest the tender epistles which fair South Carolina maidens penned for the eye alone of South Carolina heroes. Think of such sacred pages being polluted by the vulgar gaze of a parcel of peddling Yankees.

We learned some of the peculiarities of the Aborigines down South from these epistles. We learned that the ladies are so modest that they write of themselves with a little i — that all Southern babies send their papas “Howdy” — that a certain perfidious _____ _____ is “cortin the gall” of one of the brave palmetto soldiers who is congratulated by his sister upon having slain 3000 Yankees — that the ladies in the South are thirsting for the blood of the Northern mercenaries, and, above all, penmanship, spelling and composition showed that the greatest need of the South is an army of Northern Schoolmasters. Well, Cousin Lou, I must not write for ever, so good-bye. Love to all in Enfield and in Pelham.

Very affectionately,

Wm. T. Lusk,

Lieut. 10th Co. 79th Regiment, Washington.

July 28th, 1861.

Dear Mother:

A week has passed since our misfortunes at Bull’s Run, and in all the intervening time I’ve had only opportunity to let you know that I was safe. But I must tell you something of that unlucky day, for I know you had rather have the story from my own lips. As I promised Henry Goddard to write once in a while for the Bulletin, I will put my story in a form to suit that sheet, if you think proper to communicate it: —

We too have breathed into our nostrils the smoke of battle, we too have listened to the voice of the cannon, we too have seen the finest of pagents, the most splendid of dramatic spectacles — the death struggle between armed arrays of men. We, who only yesterday were numbered among the “Sons of the Muses,” find ourselves today counted among the full-fledged “Sons of Mars.” We have fought, suffered, and survived to tell our tale. “To-morrow morning at 2 o’clock be ready for an advance, provided with a couple of day’s provisions,” is the command we receive on Saturday evening, and at the chilly hour appointed, without the sounding of the Reveillé, we are noiselessly summoned to our Arms. We stand in silence at our posts until the red glare of the rising sun had followed the dark hour before dawn. Then we marched on, gay of heart, and full of confidence. We cross Bull’s Run, and see men cutting trees by the bridge. We ask their reason. “It is to cover a retreat,” they tell us. “Ho! Ho!” How we laughed at the thought of our retreating! What innocent woodmen those were that could talk of us defeated! It was a bonnie sight to see us then, eager for battle, dreaming of victory. Some three miles we marched on, and then were drawn in the woods in line of battle. In line we advanced till we came to the edge of the forest, where we were told to lie down to avoid the range of the enemy’s cannon. About 6 o’clock a couple of pieces of our artillery to the left of us opened a fire upon such of an unseen foe as our skirmishers were able to discover. Long our pieces were unanswered. How glorious, we thought, this firing on the foe, and ourselves in seeming safety! How we laughed when afar we could see an exploding shell scattering the enemy in confusion, who for a short moment were thus forced to show themselves on open ground. The fields before us were occupied by our officers reconnoitring. Away off on the line of wood-covered hills two or three miles away, we could see the glitter of bayonets. Seen from a tree, they were found to belong to fine troops, well equipped, and marching in order — troops not to be scattered by threats, but worthy of being combatted. Upon an elevated open space of ground before us to the right, we could see more troops moving — horsemen riding — above all one on a white horse who seemed to be everywhere. The sun grew warm and we became listless. The artillery continued to discharge its Death messengers, the sharp rattle of musketry was heard to our right, volley after volley following in quick succession, yet many of us slept, quietly awaiting our turn to be summoned to action. About 11 o’clock two horses came galloping riderless toward us. While surmising whence they came, we were called to rise and march to battle. We sprung from the earth like the armed men of Cadmus. On we rushed by the flank, over fields, through woods, down into ravines, plunging into streams, up again onto rising meadows, eager, excited, thrilled with hot desire to bear our share in routing the enemy. We cheered, and yelled, pressing onward, regardless of shells now and then falling among us, thinking only of a sharp fight and a certain victory. At last we reached the lines of the brave boys of the 69th. Here the American banner was planted, so we shouted lustily, for the spot had not long since been wrung from the foe.

From many a point not long since covered by secession forces, the American banner now floated. What wonder we felt our hearts swelling with pride, and saw, hardly noticing, horse and rider lying stiff, cold and bloody together! What, though we stepped unthinking over the pale body of many a brave fellow still grasping convulsively his gun, with the shadows of Death closing around him! We were following the foe, I have said, and were dreaming only of victory. So we were marched to the edge of a slope which sheltered us partially from the aim of the enemy’s artillery. Here lying prostrate, shell after shell flew over our heads, or tore up the ground around. Now we could feel the hot breath of a cannon ball fan our cheeks; now we could see one fairly aimed, falling among our horses, and rolling them prostrate; and now again one of these messengers would come swift into the ranks of one of our columns, and without a thought or a groan, a soul was hurried into eternity.

After about an hour in this trying position, we were called up and turned into the road, where Death began to make sad havoc in our ranks. Surely aimed, the shot of the enemy fell among us. We could not see the foe, and then it was terrible to see our own boys, whose faces we knew, and whose hands we had pressed, falling in Death agony. We heard, while marching stealthily, a great shout, and looking we saw a hill before us, covered with the Ellsworth Zouaves. A moment more, and from the top of the hill, from unseen hands blazed a terrible discharge of arms. It was one of those masked batteries, which have so often brought us misfortune. Bravely fought the Zouaves, but they had to fall back from that hellish fire. Other Regiments made the charge, but only to be repulsed with ranks thinned and broken. At length our turn came. Up we rushed — our brave Colonel with us.

The first fire swept our ranks like a quick darting pestilence. “Rally, boys—Rally!” shouted the officers, and a brave rally was made. Our men stood firmly firing, answering volley by volley. Here we felt the worthlessness of our old Harper’s Ferry muskets, when matched against the rifles of the enemy. Tall men were mowed down about me. Wounded men begged their comrades to press on, and not to risk anything by lingering near them. We were only some twenty yards from a battery, belching forth a thick heavy hail of grape and canister, shell and fire of musketry. With unerring accuracy the enemy’s riflemen singled out our officers and mighty men. Suddenly we saw the American flag waving over the battery. “Cease firing” was the order given, and for a short moment we believed the battery was ours. It was the enemy though that had raised the flag to deceive us. As we lowered our arms, and were about to rally where the banner floated, we were met by a terrible raking fire, against which we could only stagger.

“By the Lord, but I believe them coons’s too cunning for us!” cried an old soldier near me. We halted, fell back, and the hillside was left to such only as lingered to bear away their wounded comrades.

As we passed down we saw our Colonel lying still, in the hands of Death. He had fallen bravely, breast to the foe, not wishing to cherish his own life, while the lives of his men were imperilled. Over the sad disheartening retreat let us not linger — let it be covered by the darkness of the night which followed. We took with us 750 brave men into the battle, but our roll call shows that 199 are numbered among the dead, the wounded, and the missing. Six captains of ours are silent now when their names are called. They died with many of their men, careless of Death, willing to give up all things, even life in its sweetness, for the good of the Republic. “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.”

L. of the 79th.

I have received only three letters from you, the rest probably having been intercepted by the enemy while I was in Virginia.

Very affec’y.,

Will Lusk.

Norwich, July 28th, 1861.

Dear Cousin Louisa:

I will not commence with prefatory remarks but hasten to reply to your questions about my boy. Mr. Abbott returned from Washington to-day. He found Will well, and well cared for at the house of Lt.-Col. Elliott, whose family are bestowing upon him every imaginable kindness. Oh! dear Louisa, God’s promise has not failed, and the widow’s son is not only safe, but he has added joy to his mother’s heart by his noble conduct. Col. Elliott told Mr. Abbott he should be promoted, that his courage and prudence were rare, and eminently qualified him to be an officer. Mr. A. wept as he spoke of his appearance on the battlefield, his courage and resolution never failing though surrounded by his dead and dying comrades. The Colonel said, “that boy is not known, but he must be now.” I do not hesitate to write you this, dear friend. God knows I rejoice tremblingly, but I share him now with the country to whom he is devoting all the energies of his earnest spirit. If you or any friend feel like writing him, direct to Washington, Lieut. William T. Lusk, 10th Co. 79th Highland Regiment; he has not written even me, for he has no time, but as soon as he can be spared he hopes to come to me for a day or two. I notice by the papers he was in the hottest of the fight and that the regiment was covered “with immortal honor.” Tell Laura, as he is connected with the Highlanders, I would like to know something of his Scotch ancestry we have so often laughed about. Pray for him, my friend. God never seemed so near as in this dark hour. I know that He pities his sorrowing children, remembering “we are but dust.” With much love to all our dear Enfield friends,

I remain

Affectionately yours,

E. F. Lusk.

Near Centreville, July 19th, 1861.

My dear Mother:

I am happy to write you of my continued health and good spirits. We had an adventurous time since I wrote you so hurriedly a few days ago. Leaving our encampment we marched on, halting often to remove trees and such other impediments as a retreating foe could place in our way. The first night we passed in Vienna. The next day we advanced on toward Fairfax Court House. We were drawn up about two miles off in line of battle upon rolling ground, and the batteries placed where they could play upon the enemy. Five shots from our guns sufficed to start our friends the foe again, so we advanced further, passing a deserted battery on the way. At noon we were in Germantown, which place we found deserted, and soon the soldiers were ransacking the houses for food, destroying and burning what they could not use themselves. I am happy to say the boys in my company had little hand in these doings, as such paltry work finds little countenance from its officers. Germantown is but a poor place though and $200 would probably cover any damage done to it. At night we bivouacked upon fields where the enemy’s fires were still burning, not far from Centreville. Here we were but a mile or two from the Secessionists, and the firing of pickets caused frequent alarms, calling us to our posts once in the middle of the night. We were all awakened by the long roll of the drum, which is the signal of an advance. We heard then what seemed to us all, in our half sleepy state, the tramp of cavalry upon us. Our toilettes were hastily made you can imagine, and soon we stood in silence not knowing whence the attack would come, but after an hour’s anticipation all became still, so the “chivalry” must have changed their minds and returned back to their posts. I cannot enumerate all the alarms we have had, for there is only paper enough to tell of our part in yesterday’s fight. About noon, I should think, for I have no means of calculating the time, we heard cannon firing not far off. There was no alarm sounded, so we lay around, sleeping, talking, and laughing with the utmost indifference. About 3 o’clock we were called to arms and, in the highest spirits, were marched off at a “Double Quick,” hoping that the 79th might have some share in the conflict now at hand. We found a Massachusetts Captain, an acquaintance of one of our sergeants. “We are going to give them fits” says the Captain. It was not half an hour afterwards we saw his body borne back in one of our ambulances. When near the field of action we were divided off in line, concealed in the edge of the wood. The cannon balls whipped about us on all sides. The enemy, either by accident, or knowing of our presence, had us directly in their range. One man in my platoon was struck in the leg. Thank God our loss was not greater. We were totally unaware of our destination. It was found afterwards we had been stationed out to cover the retreat of the Brigade already in action. After a while the cannon ceased firing and we were marched off to our present bivouack.

You must know the particulars of yesterday’s skirmish by the papers a thousand times better than I can tell you.

Excuse the style of this letter, for it is written with the paper on the side of an axe. An order has just been issued imposing the severest penalties upon all those who shall in any wise trespass on private property. I am now ready to march forward with a lighter heart, for it was not pleasant to be connected with thieves — call thieving confiscation or what you will.

My best love, dearest Mother, for all. Keep up a light heart and trust in the Power of Him who ruleth all.

Very affec’y.,
W. T. Lusk,
Lieut. 10th Co. 70th Regt.

_______

A part of this letter was published in the Norwich Morning Bulletin of July 23d, 1861.

Georgetown Heights, July 1st, 1861.

Headquarters 79th Regiment.

Dear Mother:

At length I have an opportunity to inform you of my doings since we parted.

I will spring over details.however, to say that I am now with Elliott at the Barracks of the 79th Regt. — that I slept last night upon the floor — that I am not yet Lieutenant, though assured of an eventual appointment — so until I write that I am entitled to wear the epaulets, please direct my letters to the care of Lieut. S. R. Elliott, 10th Co., 79th Regt., N. Y. S. M., Washington, D. C. Up to the present I have enjoyed myself much and am delighted with the novelty of the situation. However, I have no catalogue of hardships to complain of, as I have been dining in the best of company at a very good Secessionist Hotel which lies handy to our quarters, so please, dear mother, don’t expose yourself to any privations, for the purpose of better sympathizing with me as regards camp experiences. . . . Elliott you know, and I need not sound his praises. . . . By-the-way, my expenses here to Washington were paid by a grateful country, and in this wise. Young Quartermaster Elliott, meeting me at the Steamboat Landing, introduced me to some officers of a Maine Regt. on its way hither. I was introduced as Lieut. Lusk and in that capacity was invited to occupy the car appropriated for the staff. The officers manifested some curiosity regarding the Regt. I was supposed to represent, so it was with no little difficulty that I resorted to such evasions as would enable me to cover my ignorance. I pronounced the 79th Regt. to be the finest in the field, and was looked upon quite respectfully.

We are now delightfully quartered on Georgetown Heights in the Catholic College, but are going into Camp today. Yesterday a preacher from the Scottish Kirk discoursed to the soldiers in the yard. The Catholic priests must have shuddered at the terrible sacrilege, but even sectarianism must bend to meet the exigencies of war.

Elliott sends kind regards to you, and the sisters, and Hunt. Love to all.

Very affec’y-,

W. T. Lusk.