Cross Lanes, Near Gauley River, Below
Summersville, Virginia, September 19,
Thursday A. M., [1861].
Dearest: — I fear you do not get the letters I have written the last ten days, as we are out of the reach of mail facilities. I got your letter of the 5th about forty miles north of here out of a waggon-train that I stopped. You can always know of my welfare from the correspondence in the Gazette and [the] Commercial. They are informed directly from headquarters. I see their correspondents daily. Colonel Scammon being at the head of a brigade (a very little one), Colonel Matthews commands our regiment. On the day of the fight, and most of the time since, I have had an independent command. Most [of] the time almost a regiment, made up from our regiment, the Thirtieth, and small parties of cavalry. I have thus far been the sole judge advocate also of this army; so I am very busy. We tried three cases yesterday. It is a laborious and painful business. And after writing so much I would not write you but for my anxiety to have you know how much I think of and love you. Love and kisses to all the boys.
My impression is that the enemy has left our bailiwick entirely, but there are rumors of re-enforcements, etc., etc. If so, we shall have another fight within ten days. With anything like management and decent luck, we shall surely beat them. But there is a great deal of accident in this thing. Not enough to save them unless they do better than heretofore.
Dr. Joe is well. All of us getting thin and tough. Matthews has lost twenty-five pounds, Dr. Joe five pounds. I have lost five to eight. The soldiers generally from ten to twenty pounds. I never was so stout and tough. You need not send my pants unless you see somebody coming direct or get a chance with Mr. Schooley’s things. I am well fixed. Dr. McDermott is here, one week from Ohio. We now get news by way of Kanawha in two days from Cincinnati.
You need have no fear of my behaviour in fight. I don’t know what effect new dangers might have on my nerves, but the other day I was several minutes under a sharp guerrilla fire — aimed particularly at Captain Drake and myself (being on horseback), so I know somewhat of my capacity. It is all right. In the noisy battle, for it was largely noise, none of our regiment was under fire except the extreme right wing of my little command; two were wounded, and I could hear the balls whistle away up in the air fifty feet over my head; but it amounted to nothing. A portion of Colonel Lytle’s men caught nearly all the danger, and they were under a very severe fire.
It is beautiful weather — lovely moonlight nights. A great many well cultivated farms; plenty of fruit, vegetables, and food. Good-bye again. The paymaster is expected soon. I shall be able to send you lots of money if he does [come], as I now spend next to nothing. Kisses for all. Dearest, I love you so much.
Affectionately,
Rutherford.
P. S. — This letter is so incoherent by reason of interruptions. Joe wants me to say that we had peaches and cream just now.
Mrs. Hayes.
Cross Lanes, September 19, 1861.
Dearest: — It is a lovely moonlight evening. I mailed you a letter this morning, but as Lieutenant Wall of Captain Mcllrath’s company has resigned to go with the navy, and will go to Cincinnati tomorrow, I thought I would say a word further while our band plays its finest tattoo tunes. They are sweet, very. You see by the enclosed the scrape I am in. I have tried four or five cases on general orders, and here comes an order making me permanently a J. A. [judge-advocate]. It is not altogether agreeable. I shall get out of it after a while somehow. For the present I obey. It is pleasant in one respect as showing that in my line I have done well. Lieutenant Wall will, I hope, call and see you. He is a good soldier and we are sorry to lose him. If this reaches you before other letters from here and Birch River, you may know that two older and longer ones are after you.
One thing in the new appointment: If I can’t get out of it, you may see me one of these days, sooner than you otherwise would, as it confers some privileges, and that would be sweet. Love to all.
Affectionately,
R. B. Hayes.
P. S. — We hear tonight of the death of Colonel Lorin Andrews at Kenyon.1 We feel it more deeply than in most cases.
He was my classmate — a fellow student of Colonel Matthews. He took a great interest in our efforts to get a place in the war, and rejoiced with us when we got a fine regiment. McCook gave me Andrews’ spurs when he left for home, to wear until his return. Alas! we are not to see him. He was an earnest, true man. Hail and farewell! We have been so full of humor tonight and this saddens us. Good-bye again, dearest.
R.
Mrs. Hayes.
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1Lorin Andrews born at Ashland, Ohio, April 1, 1819. Studied law, but soon gave up the practice to devote himself to work of education. He was President of Kenyon College at the outbreak of the war and was the first man in Ohio to offer his services to the country. He was colonel of the Fourth O. V. I. in the first campaign of the war and “died, a martyr to the Union, September 18, 1861.”
