Tuesday Night.—No light on our sorrow—still gloomy, dark, and uncertain.
I went to-day to the hospital, as was my duty. My dear friend S. T. cheers me, by being utterly incredulous about the reported surrender. As usual, she is cheerfully devoting her powers of mind and body to her hospital. For four years she has never thought of her own comfort, when by sacrificing it she could alleviate a soldier’s sorrow. Miss E. D., who has shared with her every duty, every self-sacrificing effort in behalf of our sick and wounded soldiers, is now enduring the keenest pangs of sorrow from the untimely death of her venerable father. On the day of the evacuation, while walking too near a burning house, he was struck by a piece of falling timber, and the blow soon closed his long life. Alas! the devoted daughter, who had done so much for other wounded, could do nothing for the restoration of one so dear to her.
April 11.—We can hear little or nothing from Mobile, but I have no idea that our people will try to hold it, now that Selma has gone. I suppose by this time our army has left it. We have evidently had some hard fighting at Spanish Fort. On looking over the list of killed and wounded in a Macon paper, among the killed the first name I saw was a son of Mrs. Mitchell of this place. He is the second or third she has lost in this war; she has my heartfelt sympathy.
Mrs. N. and her sister have left to-day. They expect to be able to go to North Carolina.
Beulah, N. C., April 11, 1865, 12 m.
Our division is alone on this road I find, and the extreme right of the army. Our brigade ahead to-day. Dibbrell’s division of Wheeler’s men is ahead of us. We pushed them so closely that we saved all the bridges to this place. They destroyed the bridge here some way without burning it. Country to-day nearly all under cultivation, but no large farms. I reckon that the larger a farm a man has of this kind of land or sand the poorer he is. Our eyes were rested by seeing a little clay hill and a stony field, signs that we are again getting out of the coast flats. There was a house on our picket line last night with six women in it who were sights. They were the regular “clay-eaters.” This Rebel cavalry ahead don’t amount to a cent. They have not yet hurt a man on our road, and we don’t know that more than two of them have been hit. They keep shooting all the time, but are afraid to wait until we get within range of them. They have not hindered our march a minute. Got me a new servant (a free boy) to-day. Both his grandmas were white women. He says the Rebel cavalry have been impressing all the able-bodied negroes for the army until within a few days. He understands they quit it because they found out in Richmond that they couldn’t make “Cuffie” come up to the work.
Eight miles North of Smithfield, 4:30 p.m.
Crossed the river as quick as the bridge could be built and moved out three miles. The rest of our corps crossed two and one-half miles below. Country is quite rolling here. I hear that Johnston has left Smithfield, going towards Raleigh. Miserable set of citizens through here.
April 11th.—Cloudy and misty. It is reported that Gen. Johnston has surrendered his army in North Carolina, following the example of Gen. Lee. But no salutes have been fired in honor of the event. The President (Davis) is supposed to be flying toward the Mississippi River, but this is merely conjectural. Undoubtedly the war is at an end, and the Confederate States Government will be immediately extinct—its members fugitives. From the tone of leading Northern papers, we have reason to believe President Lincoln will call Congress together, and proclaim an amnesty, etc.
Judge Campbell said to Mr. Hart (clerk in the Confederate States War Department) yesterday that there would be no arrests, and no oath would be required. Yet ex-Captain Warner was arrested yesterday, charged with ill treating Federal prisoners, with registering a false name, and as a dangerous character. I know the contrary of all this; for he has been persecuted by the Confederate States authorities for a year, and forced to resign his commission.
My application to Gen. Shepley for permission to remove my family to the Eastern Shore, where they have relatives and friends, and may find subsistence, still hangs fire. Every day I am told to call the next day, as it has not been acted upon.
Tuesday, 11th—Weather quite pleasant. We started at 6 a. m. and marched twelve miles. Our march was very slow, the road being through one continuous swamp. We had to lay corduroy the whole way. Our division, the First, was in front of the corps, and there was some skirmishing in our front.
11th. Marched out in advance of the Corps—Custer commanding. Grant passed us. Boys cheered him lustily. Went into camp 9 miles from Burke’s Station. Little rain.
Chattanooga, Tuesday, April 11. Lee has no doubt surrendered! but it did not stop detailing in camp. I was one of the lucky ones to report to the Inspector General (a man from each Battery) 8 A. M. And we went to work on a miniature “Dutch gap canal”, two large ponds of stagnant water lying between the camps were to be drained and carried off to the river. And by supper time we had the satisfaction of knowing that it was not a failure like Butler’s, but carried off ague and diarrhea with a rush. Am a little tired but do not regret the labor bestowed.
April 11th, 1865.—McCook’s men got us after all. About twelve o’clock today they came in sight, a long line of blue. I don’t see how I could ever have thought the blue uniform was pretty, and yet, when we were at Fortress Monroe, and I was a small girl, I admired the officers so much, when they came to the Hygeia Hotel to dance. They look ugly enough today. Mother has never taken her treasures out of hiding and now she is feeling so safe about them, but I do not feel safe about myself or anything else.
April 11th, 1865.—At bed-time. Terrible as this is, I just had to laugh today, when Adeline walked up to six or seven Yankee officers, who were asking for the owner of the premises and said, “I’ll show you where de silver an’ de pictures an’ de likenesses uv ole Mistess an’ ole Marster is hid; me an’ Colonel Ashe is got ’em in uses house.”
A stern-faced officer answered her, “You surely do not know the war is over and we have our orders to protect personal rights wherever we go. I want to see the owner of this place now to buy feed for our horses.”
Adeline went away abashed and we have not seen her since though she is in the habit of coming to help Emeline with the dishes at night, while Aunt Morea is sick.
Sunday, April 10.—Mrs. Newsom’s sister is here, and we had a hearty laugh at dinner, as I told them it was an extra one. Our corn-bread had in it lard, soda, and a whole egg. Mrs. Newsom told us of a friend of hers, now living in Marietta, who could scarcely get enough of corn meal for herself and children.
On picket, Raleigh road, three miles from Nahanta
Station, on Weldon and Goldsboro railroad,
April 10, 1865.
Our division moved north to-day along the Weldon railroad to Nahanta, where we crossed and took a main Raleigh road. Our 1st brigade had the advance and had light skirmishing all day. Wheeler’s cavalry is opposing us. Our regiment is on picket to-night, and the enemy shot a little at us before dark, but all is quiet just now. Passed through a very fine country to-day. It has rained all day. Some cannonading on our left. I think the whole army moved to-day. The 20th corps passed us near town this morning in exactly opposite direction to ours. The whole army, mules, wagons, bummers and generals have come out new from Goldsboro. The whole machine looks as nicely as an army can look. Our 1st brigade took a swamp crossing from the enemy to-day, that our brigade could hold against a corps. A bullet passed miserably near to me as I was arranging our picket line this evening.
