1862 December 4 near Bumpass, Va.

[from the diary of the Rev. Francis Butler, chaplain of the 25th New Jersey]


Dec. 4.  Thurs.  Marched at nine – five columns   clear frosty
morng.  The band playing – soldiers winding thru the hedge
rows & woods of oak & holly advance wearing holly
in hats – The blue coats - & knapsacks – white on top with
Shelter tents.  The woods echoed to shots for squirrels
The boys sang – Dixie – Marchalong[?] - &c. as we passed
down a broad well cultivated valley skirted by
Steep round hills – reached Port Tobacco at 12.
delayed in passing stream – rode into town    went into
Court room – Court sitting – good lookg. men   an officer
brot. an old curious trumpet to door & called out   Gentlemen
of petit jury attend &c.   Yesterday boys made cigars
of tobacco – which is raised in this region.
We could buy nothing in town – every place was
closed – The colors flying looked beautiful from heights –
wrote & mailed a letter to Henry, at Port tobacco.
Asked if we were going to Dixie – A Planter sd. he never
saw so many persons before.  Another knowing I was
a Chaplain asked as I entered room if I “was going
to give prayers” – I led regt. into a field - & we encamp halted
for dinner – Cols. horse rolled while we ate a sandwich.
15th Conn very nearly burnt a barn by setting grass
afire – Marched a foot about 3 miles with same Mr. K
on my horse – encamped about 4 – at a run[?] near
Bumpass – He called for guard – I had some words with Brigade
Q.Master about our staff wagons – Mr. Hamilton called
       
for Guard – We sent Lt. & 8 men to house, bot two turkeys
for Mess @ 2.00 – Walked up to his house – he recd. us
cordially – Brigade before us killed   shot   turkies &
two oxen – our brigade kil shot one ox.  I saw it
lying dead in yard – One of his slaves followed us
to Camp to hear band – Thot. it fine – finely said he
liked it better ‘n religion, loved it better ‘n a gal –
[-] No, wld. [-] Came in & sang plantation songs –
one very plaintive – then changed to a merry jingle –
As I went up market St, I met a yaller gal –
Bot.  a cent a pie & gave to her - & off she went.  She didn’t
go slow.  Never mind dinner   Sd. weather dont blow Could make letters –
tho. he could’nt tell names.


[transcript by Mary Roy Dawson Edwards]

MSS 12935