Five miles south of Fredericksburg, May 16, 1865.

Our division and brigade in advance of corps to-day. Made 24 miles by 2 p.m. Fences all gone on the road, but houses all standing. From a bluff three miles back had a beautiful view of about 15 miles of the Rappahannock valley and in all that did not see a fence or a cultivated field, or a specimen of either the kine, sheep, or swine families. This certainly does not largely rank the Sahara. Passed through a melancholy looking line of rifle pits, and mentally thanked Heaven for my poor prospect of ever using the like again. Passed through Bowling Green this a.m., only 11 miles from where Booth was killed.

Tuesday, 16th—Started at 4 a. m. and marched twenty miles today. We passed through Fredericksburg at 1 p. m., crossing the Rappahannock river at that place. On coming into Fredericksburg we marched along that stone wall by the bend of the river and looked down upon the lowland below where so many of our boys were marched to their death—at that terrible battle. It made me shudder to look down upon that horrible place. Fredericksburg seemed filled with Johnnies just returned from the war. At 5 o’clock we crossed the Poe river and went into bivouac.

South of Bowling Green, Va., May 15, 1865.

Crossed the Pamunky river this morning and the Mattapony this p.m. Beautiful country, but most desolate looking. Stopped at a house for the “cute and original” purpose of asking for a drink of water. While a servant went to the spring had a very interesting chat with the ladies, the first of the sex I have spoken to in Virginia. One of them was quite pleasant. She inquired if we Yankees were really all going to Mexico. Told her “such was the case,” when she remarked, “Well, all our men are killed off, and if all you Northerners go to Mexico, we women will have our rights sure.”

Heard of Davis’ capture. Did not excite an emotion.

Monday, 15th—We left bivouac at 5 o’clock this morning and marched eighteen miles. Went into bivouac for the night near the Fay river. The weather is quite warm and the roads are very bad.

Near Hanover, C. H., Va., May 14, 1865.

Only made nine miles to-day on account of the Pamunky river here being bad. We camp to-night in the Hanover “slashes,” one mile east of the birthplace of Henry Clay, and about two miles from the residence of Patrick Henry. The court house is where the latter delivered his famous speech against the clergy. Henry’s house is built of brick, imported, and was built in 1776. We passed the place where McClellan’s famous seven days’ fight commenced. The whole country is waste. I hear a country legend here that Clay was the illegitimate son of Patrick Henry. The court house was built in 1735

May 14, 1865.

Mr. Knowles, our circuit preacher, came. I like him. We agree upon a good many contested topics. He loves the old flag as well as myself and would be glad to see it floating where it ever has.

I had a long conversation with my man Elbert to-day about freedom, and told him I was perfectly willing, but wanted direction. He says the Yankees told Major Lee’s servants they were all free, but they had better remain where they were until it was all settled, as it would be in a month’s time. We heard so many conflicting rumors we know not what to do, but are willing to carry out the orders when we know them.

Sunday, 14th—It is quite warm. We remained in bivouac until 1 p. m., when we started and covered ten miles before night. We crossed the Pamunky river at 2 o’clock, after which the army divided, in order to get better roads. The Fourteenth and Seventeenth Corps took a road on the left, while the Fifteenth and the Twentieth marched on a road to the right. The roads through the lowlands are fearfully muddy.

North Bank of Chickahominy River,
May 13, 1865.

We crossed the James river this a.m. Our division, the rear of the corps, paraded a little around Richmond, saw Libby Prison, Castle Thunder, the bronze statue of Washington, Lee’s and Davis’ residence, and a number of women. Some handkerchiefs flying. Two women told us they were Yankees and looked so sweet that I (in theory) lifted my hat to them. It always puts me out of humor to see Southern women cheer Yanks in public. We passed through the Rebel works where Kilpatrick made his bold dash in March, ’64. We are six or seven miles above Mechanicsville, and McClellan’s old battle ground.

Saturday, 13th—Started at 10 a. m. and marched twelve miles today. We went into bivouac for the night near Hanover Court House. It is quite swampy and the roads are very bad, on account of so much rain the last few days. The country through which we passed today is considerably cut up by fortifications and badly used up on account of the two armies passing back and forth so often over the same roads and fields. The citizens are back on their farms and are at work again. Details of our men are stationed all along the way, guarding their homes and property, to keep the army from destroying things. When the army gets past, the guards fall into line at the rear.

May 12, 1865.

The 17th Corps has the road to-day. Heavy thunder storm last night with a great deal of rain. Four men of our division were killed by lightning about 200 yards from our tent. One of them, William Hall, belonged to Company D of our regiment. Two men were killed in a tent in which were 15, and of the four lying side by side, two were killed.

Can’t hear yet for certain when we will be mustered out. We move towards Alexandria to-morrow.

May 11, 1865.

The 14th and 20th crossed the river and went as far as Hanover to-day.

May 11th. About midnight of last night, while I was in the Court House, I heard the cry of ?re. Looked out and saw a great blaze to the south. Ran to the ?re. It was a large barn on the Faulkner place. Watched it burn, as it could not damage other buildings. The Faulkners had many enemies in the neighborhood, whom he treated bad at the outbreak of the war. I heard Mr. Faulkner repeat “Poor revenge.” Sometimes revenge is sweet. The soldiers did not have any sympathy for the Faulkners. Looked upon as arch traitors. Soldiers were placed on guard over his property at the time of the ?re.

May 11th, 1865.—I went to the picnic and if I was not entertaining nobody was so ill-mannered as to tell me so and I can assure you I was entertained. So many gray-coated soldiers; so much to listen to; so many questions to be asked and answered. A delicious dinner, boat rides in the cool of the evening and then the pleasant ride home “in the gloaming.” Cousin Henry was there and he told us of life in the prison on Johnson’s Island. He was captured in the battle of Missionary Ridge and was exchanged just in time to meet the returning soldiers from Virginia. He had a terrible stay in prison. In the midst of plenty, they were given only barely enough to sustain life; this in retaliation for Andersonville. But they ought to remember we would gladly have given those poor prisoners all they could want if we could have gotten it. Little food; no medicines, almost no clothing, we could not help ourselves and we should not be arraigned for that.

Cousin Henry said sometimes they got so hungry they caught the prison rats and ate them. The prisoners vied with each other in catching the rats, just as they had in shooting deer or quail in the days of yore. There was a dead line, just an imaginary line, but it must not be crossed under penalty of death. One morning a large rat ran out into the open space and several Confederates gave chase. In the excitement one of the men accidentally went over the “dead line.” Quick the guard raised his gun, ?ash, there was one prisoner the less on Johnson’s Island that night. War is cruel; men grow callous. Is the spirit of Christ dying out of the world?

Thursday, 11th—The Fourteenth and Twentieth Army Corps started on their way for Washington City. Our corps remained in camp all day. The sick were all sent down to the wharf to go around by boat to Washington. The doctor had my name listed for that route, and I started to go, but got a release. I told the doctor that I should much prefer to march through with my company, if he would have my knapsack and accouterments carried for me in the wagons. He assured me that he would have them seen to and told me that I could rejoin my company, for which I am very thankful.

Manchester, Va., May 10, 1865.

The rain yesterday made the road, which is a splendid one fifty yards wide, just right for traveling. We passed through three lines of Drury’s Bluff and Fort Darling defenses, and are now at the second and inside line of works for the defense of Richmond. Hostile Yankees never saw either of these two lines at this point, or any other, I guess, this side of the James River. It is about 22 miles from Richmond to Petersburg. “Old Brains” (Halleck) issued his proclamation that no soldier or officer of this army should enter Richmond only when we pass through. Howard and Logan say they will pass around if they can. I hope they will.

We have a fine view of Richmond from here. It is situated much like Peoria and Columbia, S. C. The burned district shows very plainly from here and makes the resemblance to Columbia very striking. Several thousand men and officers of the corps made a raid on Logan last night and got a little talk from him. He was very careful not to say too much, all small talk. This got up a real elephant hunting mania, and I guess every regiment commanded in the corps was called out. Colonel Wright had to make a little talk. The 14th and 20th move out tomorrow.

May 10th. These are quiet days. Nothing special for the past few days. Getting all the pleasure we can when off duty. Take long walks out in the country. Detailed for duty in town. Report to the Provost Marshal. Guards posted on the principal streets continue. Must keep peace by preserving order. Headquarters in the Court House. Duty light and easy.

May 10th, 1865.—I felt bad over giving up the girls but they were so happy in going. I hope we will hear from them often. There is to be a picnic on Lake McBride tomorrow. At ?rst I thought I could not go but Brother Amos says it is my duty to make things pleasant for the dear boys, who, now that they are at home, must be entertained, for they are, perforce, idle for a time. Some are fortunate enough to ?nd employment but most of them will have to wait for an opening. So, I am going to that picnic and do my best to be amusing and entertaining; if I fail, the blame will rest on Brother Amos.

May 10.—Jeff Davis was captured to-day at Irwinsville, Ga., when he was attempting to escape in woman’s apparel. Mr. Green drew a picture of him, and Mr. Finley made photographs from it. We bought one as a souvenir of the war.

The big headlines in the papers this morning say, “The hunt is up. He brandisheth a bowie-knife but yieldeth to six solid arguments. At Irwinsville, Ga., about daylight on the 10th instant, Col. Prichard, commanding the 4th Michigan Cavalry, captured Jeff Davis, family and staff. They will be forwarded under strong guard without delay.” The ?ags have been ?ying all day, and every one is about as pleased over the manner of his capture as over the fact itself. Lieutenant Hathaway, one of the staff, is a friend of Mr. Manning Wells, and he was pretty sure he would follow Davis, so we were not surprised to see his name among the captured. Mr. Wells says he. is as ?ne a horseman as he ever saw.

May 10th.—A letter from a Pharisee who thanks the Lord she is not as other women are; she need not pray, as the Scotch parson did, for a good conceit of herself. She writes, “I feel that I will not be ruined. Come what may, God will provide for me.” But her husband had strengthened the Lord’s hands, and for the glory of God, doubtless, invested some thousands of dollars in New York, where Confederate moth did not corrupt nor Yankee bummers break through and steal. She went on to tell us: “I have had the good things of this world, and I have enjoyed them in their season. But I only held them as steward for God. My bread has been cast upon the waters and will return to me.”

E. M. Boykin said to-day: “We had a right to strike for our independence, and we did strike a bitter blow. They must be proud to have overcome such a foe. I dare look any man in the face. There is no humiliation in our position after such a struggle as we made for freedom from the Yankees.” He is sanguine. His main idea is joy that he has no negroes to support, and need hire only those he really wants.

Stephen Elliott told us that Sherman said to Joe Johnston, “Look out for yourself. This agreement only binds the military, not the civil, authorities.” Is our destruction to begin anew? For a few weeks we have had peace.

Sally Reynolds told a short story of a negro pet of Mrs. Kershaw’s. The little negro clung to Mrs. Kershaw and begged her to save him. The negro mother, stronger than Mrs. Kershaw, tore him away from her. Mrs. Kershaw wept bitterly. Sally said she saw the mother chasing the child before her as she ran after the Yankees, whipping him at every step. The child yelled like mad, a small rebel blackamoor.

Drury’s Bluff, Va., May 9, 1865.

We were reviewed by Howard, Logan and Hartsuff this morning as we passed through Petersburg. We lie tonight along the outer line of Drury’s Bluff defenses which Butler took a year ago this month. Signs of a good deal of fighting; good many roads, etc. The James river is about one mile to our right. I have been to some very fine forts. Fort Wagner and Fort Stevens (or Stephens) are the best, on the second and main line of Rebel works, which Butler was working against when the Rebels came out and whipped him. From one fort I saw the spires of Richmond, James river and Shipping, Fort Darling and Fort Harrison. Coming back toward camp we found one of our soldiers unburied in the bushes. His skull was brought in by our hospital steward.

Tuesday, 9th—We started at 3 o’clock this morning and marched fifteen miles, going into bivouac on the banks of the James river near Manchester. Sherman’s entire army is arriving at this place and will lie here three or four days, after which we are to start for Washington City to be mustered out of the service.