| Title: | "My Life in the Army" William McCarter, Philadelphia, America. |
|---|---|
| ID | 1666 |
| Collection | Irish Emigration Database |
| File | McCarter, William (1)/27 |
| Year | 1862 |
| Sender | McCarter, William |
| Sender Gender | male |
| Sender Occupation | soldier |
| Sender Religion | unknown |
| Origin | unknown |
| Destination | unknown |
| Recipient | unknown |
| Recipient Gender | unknown |
| Relationship | unknown |
| Source | D 3561/A/18: Deposited by Dr. P. R. Green |
| Archive | The Public Record Office, Northern Ireland |
| Doc. No. | 9311592 |
| Date | 27/11/1862 |
| Partial Date | |
| Doc. Type | EMG |
| Log | Action By Date Document added by C. McK,. 22:11:19 |
| Word Count | 7241 |
| Genre | |
| Note | (collection of letters where he describes his life as a soldier during the American Civil War) |
| Transcript | Papers of Prof. E. R. R. Green (Copies of emigrant letters collected by and sent to E. R. R. Green as part of his research project on emigration) Deposited by Dr. P. R. Green VOL. [Volume?] VII. "My Life in the Army" 1862 Dedicated to my Mother, and to my Daughters. William McCarter Philadelphia, Pa. [Pennsylvania?] December, 1875. INDEX On guard duty at Turner's house 1 Female slaves _their kindness, etc., to Union soldiers, _ their intelligence, etc. 3 Picket headquarters on the Rappahannock, November 27th, 1862 _ their dangerous location Bible found _ hasty retreat _ shelled by the enemy _ horses killed _ dodging cannon balls etc. _ destruction by fire of these headquarters 5 Turner's house as headquarters 11 Genl. [General?] Meagher's order for my return to camp immediately 12 Duties of Adjutants 14 A private document copied for Genl. [General?] Meagher 17 Relieved from all regimental duties, and appointed by Genl. [General?] Meagher his secretary 17 Special meeting of Army Officers in the tent of Genl. [General?] Meagher 20 Presentation to Genl. [General?] Meagher of the private document copied for him 22 Genl. [General?] Meagher's opinion of my penmanship and my reward for the same 23-4 Indications of a great Battle near at hand 27 Description of Winter-quarters in the field 28 Positions of the Union and Rebel Armies, and their strength #PAGE 2 Within 3 days of the Battle of Fredericksburg 33 Marching orders for Thursday, December 11th, 1862 issuded Wednesday, December 10th, 1862 destination Fredericksburg, Va. [Virginia?] 33 Notes and Memorandums of My Soldier-Life in the war for the Union, 1861 to 1865 In the Union Army (Army of the Patomac [Potomac?] Vol. [Volume?] VII. (Continued from Vol. [Volume?] 6.) On Guard duty at the house of Mr. Turner, near Falmouth, Virginia, and opposite Fredericksburg, Spotsylvania County Virginia. Thursday Night November 27th, 1862. Two of the Slave Women referred to in the conclusion of the last Vol. [Volume?] (No. 6) were natives of Louisiana where they said they had a good Massa (Master?] who treated them well, and taught them to read and write, but that soon after the breaking out of the war their Massa's plantation had been burned and destroyed by both Union and Confederate soldiers, and wishing to escape North, fearing capture by the Rebels, they had entered the Union lines near, New Orleans and reaching this point in Virginia had been met by Mr. Turner to whom they volunteered their services, which, although not needed, were accepted by him and in whose service they had been in 14 or 15 months. Their children accompanied them North, some of them sharing the hospitality of Mr. Turner, and the rest that of a neigbor planter. Their husbands they stated had entered the Federal Army about the same time. the other woman, who was much the older, stated that she did not now her exact age, but thought it to be 63 years _ that she was born in Georgia, and there sold, when very young, to the father of Mr. Turner, at whose death she became the property of his son the present owner, and (to use her own words) "was considered one of the Turner family." She was the mother of 4 children all residing with her there, her husband being dead several years. I asked her if she was satisfied with her condition as a slave. She seemed #PAGE 3 astonished at the question, and replied "Yes, I guess I is _ the good Lor [Lord?] gives me all I want" and in answer to, Would you not like to be free, she said, Why child, what do ye mean _ free, free _ I could not be freer than I am here _ de [the?] good Lor [Lord?] has given me and my children de [the?] best Massa [Master?] in the South _ got all we want _ I tell ye ge'men [gentlemen?] got all we want _ all we want" I then asked her if she would not like to see her less fortunate people in slavery set free, which Mr. Lincoln and the army were trying to do. This seemed to touch her heart, for lifting up her hands, and with tears in her eyes, she said "Satanly [certainly?] honey, de Lor bress [bless?] Massa [Mister?] Lincoln and all his men, _ I pray de Lor [the Lord?] for dem [them?] every day _ ye see I was only telling ye about myself." I asked her how she and her children got the learning that they had, to which she replied, "Massa [Mister?] Turner taught me reading and writing 20 years ago, and now sends the children to school in Falmouth every Saturday and Sunday, and lets me go to meeting once a week." First rate, old gal [girl?]," thought I. "Slavery" after all is not so bad as I heard it to be, and proved to me that in this locality at least, it existed "only in name" and that many of the slaves preferred that kind of a life to one of freedom in which permanent employment and homes would be uncertain to them. At 10 o'clock the women retired leaving us in charge of the house and premises. Before leaving the room, the eldest went to a closet and bringing therefrom a quantity of cold roast pork, bread and butter laid them on first and then brought up from the cellar a bucket full of cider setting it near the table. "Now ge'men [gentlemen?] said she as she modestly bade us good-night, with a blessing, "Jist [just?] help yerselves [yourselves?] when ye feel like eating." she also left us plenty of coffee which we preferred to the cider. But such comfortable quarters and good living in the very face of the foe were entirely too much of a luxury to last long as we soon realized. It will be remembered that our headquarters on this occasion were in a little log house, or hut on the top of a bluff overlooking the river. This hut was formerly occupied by Mr. Turner's slaves and was #PAGE 4 fully exposed to Rebel view. During our 24 hours picket service here, the hut was, at times, occupied by 25 or 30 men of the Reliefs. At 11 o'clock myself and a partner took a walk over to the hut to see how the Boys were getting along leaving our 2 comrades in charge of Mr. Turner's house and premises till our return. The night was still, dark and cold, and nothing to be seen but the innumerable camp fires of the enemy on the opposite shore, and a few of our own on our side of the river. We approached the hut quietly to see what was going on inside. We went around to the South side of it facing the Confederate works, and there found a small window out of which poured the glare of the fire within, bright and large enough to make 3 respectable head-lights for locomotives. A fine target for the Rebs [|Rebels?] said I to my companion, if they felt inclined to send over a few shot and shells. We peeped through the window and saw several of the Boys sitting around the fire upon which there seemed to have been piled a whole cord of wood while others lay on the floor asleep in all conceivable positions and some were smoking and chatting. The scene was interesting and amusing, and was a real picture of the soldier's life in the time of war. It was now nearly midnight. We now entered the hut and took seats at the fire. In a few minutes I arose and asked one of the men to loan me his blanket. He did so, saying "What the devil do you want with a blanket here?" You'll soon see, said I, then pulling a few nails out of the old walls, I went to the window and nailed the blanket up against it to hide from outside view the light of the fire. What's that for asked the Boys. O, not much, said I _ but you see that "fire" there, _ Yes, and you saw those "shooting irons" over the river to-day _ Yes _ well now I'll tell you all what it's for "I thought that some of us might get our heads blown off time enough without coaxing the Rebs [Rebels?] by the light of that fire shining in their faces, to knock them of now.' Good for you Bill, old boy, said a number of voices, By ----, we never thought of it. Now, Boys, take my advice and let the fire go down _ don't put another stick on it to-night. Thinking now _ that the hut was dangerous quarters so long as the fire burned so high, we retired to the outside for a while till it would go down a little. All, however, on the Confederate side of the river remained quiet, no demonstration of any #PAGE 5 kind being made by the enemy against the hut, yet something told me that there was "music in the air," and I said so to the Boys, for it was impossible that such a conspicuous object as the fire now was, and had been an hour before, could escape Rebel notice. I, and my partner, now returned to Turner's house. After relating to the 2 men on guard there what had transpired at the hut, we returned to the Boys still in its locality, who told us that nothing alarming had as yet occurred. At about 1 o'clock, after the 2nd Relief had been posted, thinking that the hut might then be occupied with comparative safety, we again took possession of it, keeping up only fire sufficient to counteract the chilling effects of the cold damp night, and stopping up every hole through which the light of the fire might again reveal our position to the enemy. An old bedstead stood in the corner of the hut, upon which lay a mattress, bolster and counterpane. Feeling sleepy, I lay down upon it and stood my musket against on the post close to my head, and requested my companion to wake my up in an hour, or in time for the posting of the 3rd Relief. Before laying down, an object, which seemed to have been carelessly thrown, or kicked under the bed attracted my attention, and picking it up I found it to be an old "Bible", with the name Sallie Jackson (or Johnson) written on the fly leaf and, a date illegible. I tore the leaf out, and put the book into my haversack with the intention of keeping it, and taking it home, should I live, as a memento of this terrible war. On the inside cover I wrote a plain inscription with pencil, of which the following is an exact copy _ "William McCarter, Company 'A' 116th Regiment Pd. Vols. [Paid Volunteers?] Found in a Negro's hut near Falmouth, Va. [Virginia?], while on Picket duty on Rappahannock, on the night of the Thursday, November 27th, 1862." Note _ I will have occasion to say something more about this Bible and its fate farther on. In a few minutes I was fast asleep, while the Boys sat around the little fire spending time in the ususal manner in such places while not on duty. I slept without rocking, but I did not enjoy it long, for in 1/2 an hour, and just as I had commenced #PAGE 6 (as I was afterwards told) to play some beautiful tunes on my "nasal organ", I suddenly found myself caught by the leg and jerked out of bed and sprawling on the floor. I jumped up, but it was to see matters in great confusion. The men were rushing pell-mell out of the door, shouting to me as they went "Get, Bill. Get, quick, quick." I was soon on the run too, knowing that such a hasty retreat could only be caused by most imminent danger. We ran to the woods and I then learned its cause. A shell from a Confederate battery (while I was alseep) had been thrown at the hut, but fortunately not hitting it, burst within 50 feet of it without injuring any one. We awaited more of the deadly messengers, standing behind trees for protection. Nor had we to to wait long. We were evidently marked to the enemy, and judging from the shots fired, he got our range pretty accurately. In about 10 minutes another missile came hissing over the tops of the trees and falling between the hut and Mr. Turner's house, on open ground, burst with a loud noise, killing a cavalry horse tied to a tree, and breaking the leg of another, which next morning had to be killed with bullets, to put it out of pain. At almost the same time another shell came along, but falling short of its mark buried itself in the earth. But the "Johnnies" had not done with us yet, for in a short time bang went another Rebel gun, and over came another shell sweeping through the air like a firey tailed comet, eliciting the cry of "Look out there," and hitting a barrel used as a chimney top on the hut, shivered it to pieces, together with portions of the shingled roof, and all falling down on the fire below, soon ignited the wood work, and in 5 minutes the entire structure was wrapped in flames. "What about my prediction noir [now?], said I to a comrade," _ Right again, said he. Note _ Persons who have never seen Artillery firing are apt to suppose that a cannon ball or shell after leaving the muzzle of the gun, cannot be seen passing through the air, but such is not the case. It can be followed without difficulty with the eye, and a person standing in its track, if at a reasonable distance from the gun can, to use an Army phrase "dodge' the ball, or shell, if he is watchful and quick to get out of its way. #PAGE 7 The hut was now in flames illuminating the heavens, for the night was pitch dark, and our little party retired deeper into the woods, fearing that the bright light would reveal us to the enemy who would then have, undoubtedly, shelled us vigorously. The hut, however, soon burned down, and the bright light it had made gave place to total darkness, and a death-like stillness all round. Fears were now entertained that Mr. Turner would hold us responsible for the destruction of the hut. I and my partner started for his house to tell him about it, and when about 1/2 way we met him coming over to it, half dressed, to see (as he said) if any one had been killed or wounded. We told him that no casualties had occurred, at which he was glad and thankful he said, and added, "Well, the damned old place (the hut) it was out of the way anyhow, the Boys will have no shelter now just go back and tell them, that when not on duty, to make my house their headquarters till morning." I need hardly say that this was unexpected and good news to our comrades. Soon after, the cosey [cosey?] kitchen of Mr. Turner's house was occupied by 28 or 30 members of our Reliefs, where they spent the remainder of their time till daybreak, with plenty to eat and drink. At 5 o'clock the women were again about, and Massa's [Master's?] orders provided our entire party with breakfast consisting of hot coffee, salt fish and corn bread, after which, all the men, except myself and three guard companions, left for other parts of the picket line. At 1/2 past 8 we too bade Mr. Turner and his household good-bye thanking them for the kind treatment extended to us and our comrades, and receiving from the colored [coloured?] folks a blessing that certainly followed and rested upon some of us afterwards. We reached the regiment at the appointed time, as it was preparing to leave, and 1/2 past 9, our pickets all being in from the front, the entire command returned to camp, a Michigan regiment taking our place on the picket line. In Camp near Falmouth, Virginia Friday, November 28th, 1862 Notwithstanding the almost every-day picketing by my regiment since encamping here, it was again ordered out on the same errand to a point some 2 miles east of its position on the 27th. Nothing #PAGE 8 particular occurred on the march thither, and the weather, although cloudy, was pleasant. I was attached to the First Relief, and with another comrade went on duty at 9 o'clock, on post No. 13 near the river. Little, however, did I think that this was to be my last day of picket service. While standing on my post a little after 10 o'clock, I saw a mounted horseman, recognized to be General Meagher's Orderly and Lieut. [Lieutenant?] Nolan of my regiment. Nearer and nearer they came to me, till the horseman brought up at my side, when the Lieutenant addressing the rider, and pointing at me, said, "Here's your man, Orderly," and then to me, as he drew from his pocket a paper, "Consider yourself under arrest, here's a warrant for you." Then handing me the paper, he said, Here it is _ read for yourself. I read it, and as near as I can recollect it was worded and signed as follows _ "Look up McCarter, a young Irishman of Company A of your regiment and send him forthwith to my tent, with the bearer. Fill his place in the line with another man. (signed) T. F. Meagher." All right, said I _ Shall I go now, Lieutenant _ Oh no, said he, wait till I get another man to take your place here _ the Orderly will wait for you. He then left, saying, that he would return with my substitute in 1/2 an hour. After he was gone, I asked the Orderly if he knew what the Genl. [General?] wanted with me. He said No, and did not know what the paper was about till it was opened by the commanding officer at picket headquarters. In a little more than an hour after, the Orderly and myself reached Genl. [General?] Meagher's quarters. We found him dictating an Army document to his Adjutant who was writing it on a desk. On entering I saluted the General, when he said "Glad to see you McCarter," and taking me by the hand, added, "Didn't expect to see you so soon _ I like promptness." Then turning to the Adjutant, who was staring at me with mouth and eyes, he said, "Adjutant, this is one of Colonel Heenan's men of the 116th, the best penman in the Brigade." Here, he concluded, as he opened his portfolio, "here is some of his writing, just look at it and see if you can beat it." The Adjutant scrutinized it very closely, and asked me how I did it, if with a plain pen and ink. I replied Yes. Well, said he, #PAGE 9 I have been among some of the best penmen in Boston, for the last 7 years, but I'll be hanged General if any of them could touch that. I don't wonder (addressing me) that the General wants you here, but instead of being my assistant I think I must become yours. Genl. [General?] Meagher smiled _ I told you so, said he, but come, let us finish up the work now in hands, Mac will copy it afterwards in this style, pointing to the portfolio, it will tickle Hancock, he wants to forward it to Washington to-night. The Genl. [General?] then requested me to take a seat at the fire till the paper would be ready, which I did and taking out my old and faithful army pipe, double charged it with real Virginia weed handed me just then by the General, and very soon I was enjoying a pipe that seemed to be going by steam. Adjutants and their duties The Adjutant General was the official dispenser of all military orders, and the receiver of every species of military report, document, suggestion, etc., Assistant Adjutants General of equal or proportionate rank were assigned to every Corps, Division and Brigade. All of these formed an independent roll in the lists of the Army, having its fixed duties, as well as its system of promotion. Every document intended for the perusal, or approval of the Commander had to ascend regularly from its starting point through the line of Adjutants, and be first read or approved by each General to whom one of these Adjutants was assigned. If any of them disapproved of it, its upward course was not always stopped, but the hopes of its final approval were not very flattering. Every military paper was, or should have been signed "By order of General, so and so, Assistant Adjutant General." The "Adjutants" were simply the Secretaries and Clerks of the Army, keeping its records, accounts, etc., and performing other duties connected therewith. I had been sitting at the General's fire for probbly an hour, waiting for the paper to copy, when the cook (an old Irishman formerly in the ranks) announced dinner ready _ most welcome news, to myself in particular, because I hoped to be a sharer. Shall I bring it in, General, politely inquired the man with the apron. Certainly, Joseph, replied General Meagher, #PAGE 10 and set an extra place for another _ Good boy, said I to myself, that's the talk. In a few minutes the cook returned carrying the victuals consisting of salt broiled salmon, potatoes with their jackets on _ fresh Army biscuit and butter _ hot coffee with condensed milk and a pitcher of water. A small camp table covered with a gum blanket was set in the middle of the tent upon which the viands, together with 3 tin plates, 3 tin cups and 3 knives and forks were deposited. The General then arose, and in his usual gentlemanly manner and Irish hospitality, invited the Adjutant and myself to join him in his camp fare, saying, "Now, Boys, help yourselves to whatever is before you." I need hardly say that there was at least "one" who did ample justice to the eatables, and who was made welcome to them. After dinner, the work on the document was resumed, but before it was completed, a message was received from Division headquarters, asking if the paper was finished, as it had to be mailed at 4 o'clock for Washington. It was then after 3. Genl. [General?] Meagher replied that it would be sent over in due time, but said to the messenger, tell General Hancock for me, to excuse its roughness as the time was too limited to get it up better _ I intended to have sent him a decent paper, but cannot now do so under the circumstances. Thus I got out of "one" job of writing which, would have been no easy one for me to have copied. The document, I afterwards learned, related to charges against a certain officer, and also to the creation of Winter Quarters by, and for the Brigade here, or elsewhere in the vicinity, and a few other military matters of less importance. After the paper was finished and sent away, Genl. [General?] Meagher remarked, that he hoped "this day's scribbling" was ended, as he never was a good quill driver, and never expected to be. Now Mac, said he, I have a private matter of my own that I would like you to attend to, at your convenience and I want you to get it up for me in your very best style _ something like this, opening his portfolio, and laying his hand upon the verses there, copied by me in Philadelphia (alluded to in Vol. [volume?] 2 of this narrative). It is a poem of 37 or 38 verses of my own composition and entitled "Midnight on the Potomac." I want it written in this book, said he, unlocking a tin box and taking therefrom the most beautiful Scrap Book #PAGE 11 that I have ever saw, labelled in large fancy gilt letters, "Thomas Francis Meagher, from his friends in Ireland, January 1st, 1862." You are relieved from all regimental duties, and I have notified your Colonel to that effect _ Consider yourself until otherwise notified "my private Secretary and attached to these headquarters." Thank you General said I. The incident at the "Warrenton fire" now flashed upon my mind, and the horror [honour?] that he now conferred upon me was a proof that he had not forgotten it. Soon after dispatching the paper to Division headquarters, Genl. [General?] Meagher told me that he was going away for a few hours, and would leave his tent, etc., under my care, whilst the Guard outside would see that no one should enter it unless properly authorized. I was therefore soon alone, and having no writing of an official character to do then, I embraced the opportunity to commence copying the Poem and had just finished the 4th verse as the General returned. He was much pleased with my work, and passed some compliments upon it. But General, said I, it will appear to better advantage when it is finished, and I would prefer you not to see it again till then. All right said he, just as you wish. He then unbuckled his sword, and hung it upon the centre pole, lit a segar [cigar?], pulled off his boots and sat down at the fire, saying to me, Now Mac, I am here, and if you feel inclined to take a stroll over among the Boys, you are perfectly at liberty to do so, but be here again at 8 o'clock, Joseph will have supper ready then. Have you the Countersign, he added. No Sir, said I. Well you may need it, as he whispered into my ear "Forty Four". Thank you General, said I, then lighting my pipe, I went out into the woods, beautifully illuminated with our camp fires around which, in groups, the Boys were whiling away another dark night in the Army of the Potomac. I returned to the General's tent at 8 o'clock and partook of another hearty meal _ coffee, roast potatoes, hard-tack and butter. After supper the General and myself vacated the tent for the outside, he with his segar [cigar?] and I with my pipe filled at his expense, and seating ourselves at a large fire near by, around which 12 or 15 officers and privates were resting and warming themselves, we had an evening smoke. At 9 #PAGE 12 o'clock tattoo sounded, to retire for the night, and soon the bustling camps of 200 regiments became as still as a church yard, not even the tread of a sentinel being heard owing to the softness of the ground. The General, however, did not retire, but beckoning to me to follow, returned to his tent, and lighting 2 candles there placed them upon his desk and commenced to write. Now, Mac, said he, pointing to a couch in a corner of his tent, you can "bunk" any time you wish. I must stay up for several hours yet, as there is to be a special meeting here to-night at 11 o'clock of Army officers. It was now 1/2 past 9. All right, General, said I, but will my presence not be objectionable during the meeting. He replied, Oh no, I'll fix that _ sit down, however, for a while and keep me company. I did so, and he went on writing. Time passed, and at 1/4 to 11 I reminded him of the meeting and told him that with his permission I would prefer to go outside till it was over. Certainly, replied he when you prefer it _ one of my Orderlies is afloat yet and you can spend the time with him _ he is a first-rate fellow. In the meantime please go over and tell him that I wish to see him here for a minute. I did so, and then sat down at one of the camp fires while the Orderly took his position at the door of the General's tent to usher in the members of the meeting on their arrival. At about 20 minutes past 11, they had all assembled, but who they were I did not know, owing to the darkness of the night, and the way in which they were muffled up. Two of them, however, I think, judging from their build and carriage, were Generals Burnside and Hancock. The meeting closed at 1/2 past 12 and the members returned quietly to their quarters. The General then invited me in to retire, handing me a glass of brandy, and hoping to find me ready for work in the morning, for, said he, pointing to several papers on his desk "here's plenty for you to do." I pulled off my boots and cap, bade him good-night and jumped into my new bunk where I slept soundly till 5 o'clock in the morning. Saturday, November 29th, 1862 he morning of the 29th indicated rain or snow and our camp presented a very gloomy appearance. At 8 o'clock the regiment again started for the picket #PAGE 13 line which still more increased the dismal look of the the grounds. The only occupants of the camp during that day and night were myself, General Meagher, occasionally, and his visitors, and 8 or 10 camp guards. I commenced writing at 8 1/2 o'clock [half past eight?] and about 2 I had the documents finished and on their way to Hancock's headquarters for signature, etc., after which I again took up the General's private work _ the copying of the Poem. The following 5 days were spent by me in pretty much the same routine of duty, and on the night of Thursday, December 4th, 1862, I had the Poem all copied. I got it up in my best style, determined, if possible, to please the General. On the same night after finishing the Poem (but the Genl. [General?] did not know it was done) he informed me that my work on the official document had, in every instance passed inspection, and had given universal satisfaction, and indeed, said he, it is much admired for its clearness, and the ease of being read. And now Mac continued he, I take pleasure in telling you that your name is on the list for promotion to "Adjutant". I felt proud of the honor conferred upon me, and thanked the General for his kindness. Friday, December 5th, 1862 As none of the regiments of the Brigade were on picket to-day, inspection and drill was made the order of the morning for 2 hours from 9 o'clock. All the officers of the Command were present, including the chief inspector Genl. [General?] Hancock. At about 1/2 past 11, after inspection, seeing a good chance to present the Poem to Genl. [General?] Meagher, I did so. He was standing carelessly at a camp fire talking to the Colonel of the 69th New York at the time. I took the Scrap Book to him, and said "General, here it is, finished at last, and then left returning to my writing duties in his tent. In 5 minutes after, I looked out to see what he was doing. He was surrounded by some 10 or 11 officers, all intently looking at the copied poem in the Scrap Book in his hands. I then returned to my desk, and in a few minutes the Orderly appeared at the tent door, saying that General Meagher wished to see me outside. In 2 minutes I was with him, when he said to me, in presence of all the #PAGE 14 other officers, "McCarter, I am really proud of this poem, and still prouder that the man who copied it is a member of my Command. I shall forward it to Ireland for exhibit there for a short time." He then introduced me to all the officers present and invited the entire party into his tent to take a "Smile". In 10 minutes after, they separated. Genl. [General?] Meagher with the book under his arm going towards headquarters, and the officers to their various Commands, while I re-seated myself at the desk for another hour's work which would finish my duties for the day. It was now 1/2 past 12 o'clock. At 1 o'clock Joseph (the cook) came in and commenced setting the table for dinner. Joe, said I, I guess the General is dining with Genl. [General?] Hancock to-day, he went over there a while ago. Oh, yes, he replied, he told me so, but bid me get dinner here for you. Joseph soon came in again bringing to me a big apple dumpling, two potatoes and a corn cake. Now, my boy said he, in his broad Irish dialect "Ate your fill." Genl. [General?] Meagher returned at 3 o'clock, while I was talking with some of my comrades at a camp fire. He called me, and following him into his tent, he put his hand into his pocket, and drew out an old fashioned steel-bead purse, and taking therefrom a "folded up" greenback of what seemed to me to be of the denomination of "Five Dollars," he handed it to me saying "Mac, here's a slight acknowledgement for your beautiful work _ perhaps you need some things from the Sutler, and this will be useful to you." I thanked him as I took the money and said that it certainly would be of much use to me at that time, but that I did not expect anything of the kind for simply copying his poem, as I had only done it out of respect for and admiration of the Commander of the Irish Brigade. He smiled and said, thank you Mac. I soon went over to the Sutler's (about 200 yards off) and purchased from him the following: 1 pair common suspenders $1.75 1 pair wool socks 75 2 red pocket hdkfs [handkerchiefs?] (very thin) 60 1 muffler (cotton) $1.00 _____ Total $4.10 I drew out my little memorandum book in which I had placed the greenback without opening it, just as #PAGE 15 I had received it from the General, and handing it to the Sutler to pay for the articles bought, he went back to the rear of his shop (or tent) to get me the change. He counted out 19 one dollar notes (very much to my surprise) and then stopping short held the bill that I had given him up in his hand saying, My friend, I can't make your change _ have you nothing smaller. Hiding my astonishment as much as possible, I replied, No _ nothing less _ just hand me the bill again and I will get it changed. He did so, and then, for the first time I discovered it to be a "Fifty Dollar' ($50) greenback. Thinking that Genl. [General?] Meagher had certainly |
