January 1st, 1865.—At St. James’s Church this morning. Our children came over from Union Hill yesterday, to take their dinner from the contents of the captured box, and were detained by snow and rain. “We were too much pleased to have them with us not to make it convenient to accommodate them, which we did with the assistance of our kind friend Mrs. P. To-morrow F. and myself will return to our offices, after a good rest, for which we are very thankful.
1st. Sunday. After roll call earned a breakfast by chopping wood. Made a good fire. Drew a load of bricks from the country. Many of the boys are suffering from poor boots and short rations. Have worked some today, but conscience clear.
Sunday, 1st—This is New Year’s Day and my fourth in the army.1[1] We did not have to work on the fortifications today, and as the weather was cloudy and cool we remained close to our “ranches.” At 4 p. m. we had company inspection. We are still on two-thirds rations.
[1] The common belief among the men was that this would be the last New Year’s Day spent In the army. Everything pointed to an early end of the war.—A. G. D.
January 1st.—Marched on through Jacinto, Tishamingo County, Rienzi, Tupelo and Saltillo. Reported Jeff Davis dead. Great many glad to hear it. One-fourth of army bare-footed. Worst demoralized army it is possible to see. About two thirds of them declare they are going home. Drew a few shoes, coats and pants. Jeff Davis not dead.
December 31st.—The last day of the year. Snowing and wet.
Gen. H. Cobb writes that the existing Conscription Bureau is a failure so far as Georgia, Alabama, etc. are concerned, and can never put the men in the field.
Wm. Johnston, president of the Charlotte (N. C.) and South Carolina Railroad, suggests the construction, immediately, of a railroad from Columbia, S. C., to Augusta, Ga., which might be easily accomplished by April or May. It would take that length of time for the government to “consider of it.” It will lose two railroads before it will order the building of one.
There is supposed to be a conspiracy on foot to transfer some of the powers of the Executive to Gen. Lee. It can only be done by revolution, and the overthrow of the Constitution. Nevertheless, it is believed many executive officers, some high in position, favor the scheme.
To-morrow Gen. Lee’s army is to be feasted with turkeys, etc. contributed by the country, if the enemy will permit them to dine without molestation. The enemy are kept fully informed of everything transpiring here, thanks to the vigilance of the Provost Marshal, detectives, etc. etc.
Gen. Cobb writes that he is arresting the men who remained in Atlanta during its occupation by Sherman, and subjecting themselves to suspicion, etc. Better march the men we have against Sherman now, who is still in Georgia!
Gen. Lee writes that Grant is concentrating (probably for an attack on Richmond), bringing another corps from the Valley; and if the local troops are brought in, he does not know how to replace them. His army diminishes, rather than increases, under the manipulations of the Bureau of Conscription. It is a dark and dreary hour, when Lee is so despondent!
Senator Henry writes that any delay in impressing the railroad from Danville to Greensborough will be fatal.
Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to his father
Camp of the 5th Mass. Cav’y
Point Lookout, Md., December 31, 1864
I am writing to you in the very last hours of the year. As it passes away I find myself looking back over its events. Whomever else it has mis-used and left the worse for its events, it certainly was a pleasant, kind and beneficent year to me. It came to me full-handed; it was to me, in my small sphere, a year of almost unmixed success. In it whatever I aimed at was accomplished. To be sure my mark was not high but I struck it. My sphere is so small, and now so isolated, that I doubt if even you can trace the causes of my satisfaction. It is worth going over my record, if only to renew pleasant associations. Just as the year began I was looking forward to my visit to you, so long the pleasant dream which made hardship bearable, as a thing hoped for long and now, perhaps, to be realised. While its realisation was yet a question, my Company, and mine alone of the regiment, enlisted anew, and when the dream was realised, I went home almost in triumph. Then came Europe and the rest from labors. When my vacation was over and the old life of hardship, now rendered doubly hard in contemplation and almost unbearable by contrast with the present, when this again stared me in the face, then I made one little effort, just pulled one little wire, and again my whole scene changed. The terrible campaign which killed so many of my friends and was one succession of increasing hardships and privations to those whom it spared, was to me a summer picnic and pleasure excursion. Presently, unsought by me and undesired, came offers of promotion. When accepted by me I did not come to my regiment empty handed. I brought them their horses, and again my attempt had been successful. Then, in October, I thought I would like to go home, and November saw me at Quincy. Now, as the year is closing, I have just gotten back, and I think you will agree with me that ’64 came to me full handed and has been to me a pleasant and a prosperous year. The events of the coming year I, for one, seek not to foresee. So far my share of happiness and success has been allotted to me and I hope to go on in the faith that all blessings were not expended in the past, and that the power which has so well looked after that, will supply its cakes and ale in due quantity also in the future. . . .
No. 19 Dauphine St.,
Saturday night, December 31st, 1864.
One year ago, in my little room in the Camp Street house, I sat shivering over Tennyson and my desk, selfishly rejoicing over the departure of a year that had brought pain and discomfort only to me, and eagerly welcoming the dawning of the New One whose first days were to bring death to George and Gibbes, and whose latter part was to separate me from Miriam, and brings me news of Jimmy’s approaching marriage. O sad, dreary, fearful Old Year! I see you go with pain! Bitter as you have been, how do we know what the coming one has in store for us? What new changes will it bring? Which of us will it take? I am afraid of eighteen sixty-five, and have felt a vague dread of it for several years past.
Nothing remains as it was a few months ago. Miriam went to Lilly, in the Confederacy, on the 19th of October (ah! Miriam!), and mother and I have been boarding with Mrs. Postlethwaite ever since. I miss her sadly. Not as much, though, as I would were I less engaged. For since the first week in August, I have been teaching the children for Sister; and since we have been here, I go to them every morning instead of their coming to me. Starting out at half-past eight daily, and returning a little before three, does not leave me much time for melancholy reflections. And there is no necessity for indulging in them at present; they only give pain.
December 31st. This is the last day of the year. All is quiet at our camp on this high hill. Not very much snow or real cold weather. We manage to keep comfortable. At our reserve picket post we have built a large inclosure, made of logs and dirt, surrounded by small evergreen trees, a large fire in the center around which we sleep and rest when our reliefs are off duty. The inclosure is so large and high it cannot be seen from the outside, making it safe from the shots of the guerillas, scouts, and bushwhackers. The farthest post out from the reserves is about one mile, while the pickets are within hailing distance. We go on picket duty at 3 P. M. instead of 9 A. M. I don’t know why the change was made. I am on duty every other night.
Saturday, 31. — Staid at Mr. Allen’s, Martinsburg, last night. At 9 or 10 A. M., [the] Thirty-sixth and Thirteenth by cars to Cumberland. With staff at 3 P. M. to Cumberland. Supper and good time at Cumberland. Winter quarters here.
Nashville, Saturday, Dec. 31. Surprised to find the ground covered with snow and very cold. Formed with overcoats on at 9:30 A. M. for muster for pay. Hope we will get it soon. Boys all very flat. “Busted”. I commence a New Year with a light heart and a lighter locker. On guard. Luckily on the guns, so I did not have to go to the stables. So the last thing I did in 1864 was to stand guard, and the first thing in 1865. Trust it is not going to be so always.
Another year has rolled past and joined the many gone before in the vistas of the past. Its glorious deeds of valor and achievements, its scenes of anguish and bloodshed, of wrong and oppression, are subjects for the future historian. Its ever varying scenes and emotions are indelibly impressed upon my mind, which death alone can efface. The snow has clothed the earth in a lovely mantle of white as though to hide the sad past, and offer a clear page for me in the coming year. Let me then look forward with hope and determination to keep in the path of virtue and right, striving to improve the blessings and privileges offered me, so that when 1865 closes I need not look back with regret at the year spent.
