THE CAMPAIGN
OF THE
FORTY-FIFTH REGIMENT
MASSACHUSETTS VOLUNTEER MILITIA.

"THE CADET REGIMENT."

BOSTON:
PRINTED BY JAMES S. ADAMS.
1882.

PREFACE.

Not long after the return of the Forty-Fifth Massachusetts regiment from North Carolina, an informal meeting of some of the members of Company A was held in Boston, which resulted in the formation of a permanent association, known as the "Co. A Associates of the 45th Regt. Mass. Vol. Mil."

This association has proved a constant source of pleasure to its members, and has served to keep in fresh remembrance the many and varied experiences of our campaign. The annual reunions are held on the anniversary of the expedition to Trenton, and from year to year the friendships which were formed in the service so many years ago, are renewed. The presence of some of the officers as invited guests often adds to the pleasure of the occasion.

Not a little of the success of these yearly meetings is due to that warm friend of the company and regiment, Colonel Edward W. Kinsley. As, in the old war time, no guest was ever more welcome than he, whether in camp at Readville, on the deck of the "Mississippi," in the city of Newbern, or on the sand-plains of North Carolina, so it has been in the time of peace at our reunions. Elected an honorary member of the "Co. A Associates," the meetings would be incomplete, indeed, without his cheery presence to enliven us with reminiscence or song, or, better still, to give us a bit of the inner history of the dark days in '62 and '63, with which he is so familiar, and in which he played so important a part.

The question of publishing a history of the campaign of the 45th has been often discussed at these Company A meetings, and a committee was even appointed to consider the matter. The subject has also been under consideration in the Regimental Association, organized some years since. But nothing was done by either association, until at the meeting of the Co. A Associates, held in January last, it was definitely voted to publish a history of our campaign, with illustrations, and a committee was chosen for this purpose. This book is the result, and in offering it to the members and friends of the regiment, the committee desire to make this explanation.

Shortly after the regiment was mustered out of the service, one of the members of Company A wrote a brief history of the campaign, not with any view to publication, but for his own private gratification, and to preserve the leading incidents of his army experiences. He induced another member of the company, now a well-known Boston artist, to illustrate the manuscript with drawings copied from sketches taken during our army life.

This history has been read with interest by different members of the regiment, and the committee were convinced that it would be far better to obtain, as they have done, permission of the writer and artist to publish, without alteration, this illustrated story of the campaign, written when the scenes described were fresh in the mind, than to attempt the publication of an elaborate history of the regiment, even if it were possible to induce any member to undertake such a task at this late date.

In justice to our comrades who have kindly granted us this privilege, the committee feel sure, if any apology is needed, that the reader will bear in mind the fact that this joint effort is the production of their youth, and not the work of to-day.

Boston, June, 1882.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

ROSTER
OF
FORTY-FIFTH REGIMENT, M. V. M.

ROLL OF COMPANY A,
FORTY-FIFTH REGIMENT, M. V. M.

GEORGE P. DENNY, Captain.

George E. Pond, 1st Lieutenant.
Edw. H. Richardson, 2d Lieut.

Charles W. Barstow, Ord. Sergt.
George H. Watson, 2d Sergeant.
William R. Butler, 3d Sergeant. (Died Jan. 26, 1867.)
Wm. E. Wheaton, 4th Sergeant.
Geo. F. Woodman, 5th Sergeant. (Promoted.)
Charles B. Sumner, 5th Sergeant.

Luther F. Allen, 1st Corporal.
Augustus S. Lovett, 2d Corporal.
Chas. Eustis Hubbard, 3d Corporal.
Errol Grant, 4th Corporal.
Henry K. Porter, 5th Corporal.
Albert A. Chittenden, 6th Corp'l.
William F. Shaw, 7th Corporal. (Died Nov. 15, 1871.)
William B. Stacy, 7th Corporal.
Henry E. Merriam, 8th Corporal.

Samuel L. Allen.
Nathaniel Andrews.
Wm. B. Atkinson.
Caleb L. Bates. (Died Oct. 15, 1864.)
Cyrus H. Bates.
William H. Becket.
Charles H. Bennett.
William H. Berry.
Joseph H. Bingham.
Henry S. Bliss.
Charles H. Brooks.
George Brooks. (Died Feb. 10, 1863.)
Elias W. Bourne.
Louis H. Boutelle.
Edmund W. Buss.
Moses J. Colman.
Edmund P. Davenport. (Died 1878.)
Franklin H. Dean.
Reuben Edgett.
John B. Edmands.
Geo. W. Estabrook.
Frank A. Field.
Calvin W. Fitch.
John W. Fowle. (Died July 8, 1863.)
Geo. E. Fox. (Died Jan. 10, 1863.)
Joseph V. Freeland. (Died May 10, 1872.)
Rufus P. Furguson.
Stephen A. Furguson. (Died July 17, 1863.)
Gardner Gilman.
Chas. P. Goldsmith.
Elbridge Graves. (Died Dec. 17, 1862.)
Chas. H. Griffin.
Chas. A. Gross.
Abraham G. R. Hale.
E. Thomas Hale. (Died Sept. 7, 1868.)
Milo T. Hardy.
Francis P. Haskell.
Robert Hasty.
Horace Holmes. (Died Aug. 19, 1864.)
Chas. A. Howard.
Rodolphus K. Howard.
Levi D. Jones.
Thomas Kinsley.
Silas W. Lang.
Charles H. Leonard.
Richard H. Lincoln.
Stephen Lincoln. (Died June 30, 1863.)
Jeremiah R. Lord.
Edmund S. Lunt.
Albert W. Mann.
James H. Mason.
Joseph A. Morgan. (Died July 3, 1863.)
Edwin T. Morse.
John R. Morse.
Henry D. Norton.
Geo. B. Parker. (Died ——.)
Daniel Pert.
Francis B. Pert.
Wm. J. Pert.
Wm. P. Plimpton.
Wm. Poland.
Wm. H. Pratt.
Frank L. Putnam.
Wm. A. Richards.
Swartz Richardson. (Died Dec. 1, 1872.)
Oscar W. Sargent. (Died Oct. 19, 1877.)
Henry B. Scudder.
Frank H. Shapleigh.
Samuel B. Shapleigh.
Thomas W. Shapleigh.
Rufus S. Smith. (Died ——.)
Jeffrey T. Stanley.
Henry R. Thompson.
Edwin E. Tiffany.
Geo. W. Tower. (Died Jan. 20, 1871.)
Chas. A. Vinal.
John H. Watson. (Died Oct. 22, 1873.)
Isaac G. Wheeler.
L. Henry Whitney.
Israel D. Wildes.
Lyman D. Willcut.
Geo. Willmonton.
Henry T. Winslow. (Died June 30, 1863.)

Honorary Member.
Edw. W. Kinsley.

CHAPTER I.
CAMP-LIFE AT READVILLE.

Shortly after the President's call for three hundred thousand nine months' men, in the summer of 1862, a meeting was held by the Independent Corps of Cadets, in their armory in Boston, to consider the expediency of organizing a nine months' regiment, of which that corps should be, as it were, the nucleus. The proposition being favorably received, application was speedily made to Governor Andrew by various members in favor of the movement, for permission to recruit for such a regiment, under the title of the Cadet Regiment, but officially to be known as the Forty-fifth Regiment Massachusetts Volunteer Militia.

Charles R. Codman of Boston, then adjutant of the cadets, was selected as future commander of the regiment, subject, however, to the approval of the line officers, who were themselves to be elected by their respective companies in accordance with the militia law of the state, prior to receiving their commissions from the governor. Recruiting officers canvassed the state, and the companies ranked in the order in which their respective rolls were filled.

Readville was selected as the rendezvous and camping-ground for the regiment, and on the twelfth of September, Company D went into camp at that place, followed at intervals by the other companies as they severally attained a size which would warrant a respectable appearance on drill and parade.

The camp was pleasantly situated on high ground, surrounded on three sides by other camps, while the fourth was skirted by woods, back of which, as a fitting background, rose the blue hills of Milton in all their beauty.

We were quartered in barracks, long wooden sheds running parallel to each other, and perpendicular to and facing the parade-ground. Back of each barrack, and separated by a street some twenty feet in width, were the little cook-houses, while still farther to the rear were the officers' quarters, quartermaster's department, etc.

The first night in camp was a novel one to most of us, and formed the entrance to a new phase of existence, a military life. We marched from the depot and were received with shouts of welcome by the companies already in camp. Halting in front of the barrack assigned us, the order to break ranks was the signal for a simultaneous rush of all to take possession of the movable bunks, which in two tiers lined both sides of the building, followed by another stampede after straw to fill them.

My first military duty was the scouring of sundry rusty pots and pans preparatory to the evening meal. All the true patriots came into camp with empty haversacks, determined to brave the soldier's fare at the outset, and our pride was at its height when, formed in line, we marched single file to the cook-house, and had doled out to us from its window, the huge slice of bread and dipper of coffee or tea.

"Truly, we are serving our country at last," we said, and ate our rations without thought of what we had left behind; but that slice of bread, varied often by hard-tack, so often, indeed, that the bread was the exception, and the dipper of coffee soon became an old, very old story, and the good things at home would rise in our memories, the ghosts of better times, and would not down at our bidding, nor would the hard-tack, either.

The interval between supper and roll-call was wisely spent in making our bunks comfortable for the night; and that first night the custom was instituted by our captain, of reading the lesson and prayers for the day after morning and evening roll-call; and was faithfully continued until the regiment went into tents, some seven months later.

Punctually at nine, taps sounded and the lights were extinguished, and as reveille was at half-past five, we naturally desired and expected to lose ourselves immediately; but alas! for the fallacy of human hopes, not an eye in that barrack was closed in sleep a moment before midnight, except, perhaps, that of one of our number, afterwards discharged for deafness. The evil one himself was, without doubt, on a rampage that night, and raised a very bedlam in our midst.

In vain did the orderly threaten; in vain did the officer of the day, encircled by that mysterious sash at which we raw ones had gazed with awe, command silence. For a moment there would be a lull in the storm, deluding the sober-minded into a belief that quiet was at length restored, when, with a laugh or a jest, the uproar would burst forth with redoubled vigor. Even after sheer exhaustion had quieted the unruly ones, it was hard to sleep as we lay thinking over our strange situation, and at intervals through the night caught the distant challenge of the sentry at the approach of the welcome relief. But the longest day must have an end, and at last our weary eyelids were closed not to open again till the loud beat of the drum summoned us from the land of dreams.

With the return of the day our new duties commenced; some were detailed for camp guard, others for police duty, but most of us were marched out to drill, and during our nine months' service this proved an unfailing source of amusement and occupation, and was improved to the utmost by the officers.

Police duty has a mysterious sound to the uninitiated, and those first detailed for that service had their expectations raised to a great height, but the fall was so much the more severe. Some were set to work digging wells, others to sweep up the camp with brooms of their own manufacture, and one squad were assigned the task of emptying the barrels in the rear of the cook-houses, filled with the refuse of the men's rations; police duty is, in fact, to enact the part of general scavenger for the camp, a very necessary, but at the same time disagreeable, business.

Our first day's guard duty was an experience never to be forgotten. The solitary march back and forth, back and forth, in the same narrow path, rain or shine, warm or cold, can only be appreciated after actual trial. Never did time fly with such tardy wings as in the night-watches of those dark, wet, fall nights, when the approach of the relief was to the weary sentinel like a release from imprisonment. But those first experiences had their comical side as well. The awkward manner of handling the guns, the stupidity displayed in learning the instructions and duties of the post, and the various mistakes constantly occurring were laughable to witness.

One day there was a more than usually difficult subject, whose mistakes furnished a fund of amusement for the whole guard. After innumerable blunders during the day, at nightfall he was carefully and at great length instructed with regard to the countersign, its object, nature, etc., until the lieutenant of the guard thought he would be able to pass muster under the ordeal of the grand round, but the officer, by skillful questioning, discovered that the countersign was in his belief a sort of counterfeit bill, which was to be passed on delivery,—to say the least, an original interpretation of the meaning of the word.

But the mistakes and blunders were by no means confined to the men, for the officers could, without breach of modesty, lay claim to their full share. One was particularly noted for his ignorance of military knowledge, and had earned, among the men, the soubriquet of "Right Backward Dress," from his repeated blunders in reference to that order; while another, having occasion to salute the commandant of the post, managed to bring his guard to the "present," but then gave the order "stack arms," quite regardless of the intermediate orders essential to a proper execution of the manœuvre.

On pleasant days, guard duty at the camp entrance was by no means disagreeable, for on such days the stream of visitors was unceasing from morning till night. How we all enjoyed those visits! and the sight of a friend in the distance was a never-failing pretext for an excuse from drill or parade. We were always ready to relieve them of the baskets and bundles they labored under, and of course they must inspect the barracks, admire the various decorations and inscriptions that ornamented the different bunks, and wonder how any mortal could ever sleep in such boxes.

One afternoon, two of us were made happy by the arrival of a carriage-load of friends, who had come to dress-parade. We both noticed several mysterious-looking baskets stowed away in the depths of the carriage, but of course no remark was made as to their probable contents. After witnessing and duly admiring the parade, at the sound of the supper-call, the ladies invited us to take supper with them, if we could for once deny ourselves the pleasures of the government commissariat. So, nothing loath, we were armed with the above-mentioned baskets, and took up our line of march toward a grassy knoll, back of the camp and outside the lines, to avoid intrusion, and there, stretched out on shawls and blankets, we had a supper worthy of the name.

As we lay about the grass, taking our meal, the full moon rose in all its beauty from behind the Milton hills, and lit up the quiet October evening till the camps and hills were flooded with the silvery light. The growing dampness warned us at last to shorten our pleasure, but on taking refuge in the barrack, we were agreeably surprised by an impromptu concert from visitors and hosts, and as our regiment boasted some very good voices, the singing formed an appropriate ending to such a delightful evening. We enjoyed one or two moonlight evenings in rather a different way, marching about the camp, headed by the band, and blundering through some of the simpler battalion movements for the colonel's benefit.

Our battalion drills in those days were very amusing, for though in company drill the men got the blame for all mistakes, yet here the burden of reproof was shifted to the officers' shoulders, and this was in some measure a recompense to us, for the laugh was now on our side. The tortures undergone by the colonel, in those early days, in witnessing the officers' oft-repeated blunders, must have been truly excruciating. Now one, then another, would fall the victim of his censuring tongue, until, bewildered by the flying sarcasms and the complication of manœuvres, their confusion became worse confounded, and we of the file, rejoicing over the misfortunes of the rank, would hail with delight the welcome command of "Drill is dismissed," screamed forth by the colonel, half an hour before the usual time.

Nor did we depend on visitors or drill for our whole stock of amusement. Bathing formed a part of the daily routine while the weather permitted, and foot-ball was a favorite occupation during our leisure hours. Our evenings passed quickly in a quiet rubber of whist, or in listening to the music with which the singers often favored us, usually in the barrack, but occasionally on the mild fall evenings, in the open air, stretched lazily on the grass before the door.

But the crowning feature of our life at Camp Meigs was the dress-parade, and this would be an incomplete history indeed, had that been omitted in the tale. Very modest in appearance at the outset, with thin ranks, but two or three drummers and those far from perfect, and more than all, no guns for the men; they were gradually improved, now by fresh recruits, then by the addition of the band, and the arrival of our Springfield rifles, until, under this combination of improvements, we were enabled to present a very respectable appearance.

It seems like a dream to recall the two long rows of people which night after night stood facing each other in front of the barracks,—the actors and spectators. We come to parade-rest, and the performance commences. Three groans from the band, then the inevitable—the show tune of the band; and as they come slowly marching down the line, we see a familiar but ever novel sight. A little in advance of the band, monarch of all he surveys, and the "cynosure of neighboring eyes," struts Mariani, the drum-major, pride of the regiment, twirling his baton, token of empire, giving that finish to the show which even our rival neighbors are prone to admire. Never afterwards did the band play that familiar old tune, No. 45, on the sand-plains of North Carolina, but a smile ran down the line; and as our thoughts reverted to the pleasant dress-parades at Readville, we longed for that opposite row of faces, that we might show our friends what a good parade was like.

The twenty-sixth of September, eight companies were mustered into the service of the United States; and on the eighth of October, the remaining companies,—together with the field and staff officers,—and we became an organized regiment under the United States, though constituting a part of the state militia.

It had been supposed all along that the Army of the Potomac would be our destination, but when the 44th sailed for Newbern, it became a settled fact that North Carolina was to be our arena also, and as the day of departure drew near, every hour of our short furloughs became precious and the visits of our friends even more frequent and pleasant than before.

The last Sunday but one, about half the regiment marched to Milton, and there took the cars for Boston, where we attended service at Park Street Church, the church of our chaplain, Rev. A. L. Stone, D. D. After an appropriate farewell discourse, we returned to camp much pleased with our trip, with a good appetite for the regular Sunday dinner in camp of baked beans.

On Saturday, the first of November, the colors were presented to the regiment by Governor Andrew, and were received by Colonel Codman in our behalf. It was a gala day in camp, and the grounds were covered with visitors, many present for the last time, as the regiment was under marching orders. In the evening an impromptu mock dress-parade was quite successfully carried out, much to the amusement of the spectators, who still lingered, reluctant to say good-bye.

The last day or two was full of bustle and confusion and all who could obtain furloughs were at home, leave-taking and making their final arrangements. Wednesday, the fifth of November, dawned on us at last, raw and disagreeable, and with full knapsacks and full hearts as well, we bade farewell to old Camp Meigs, where we had passed a month and a half so pleasantly. Perhaps at the time we did not realize fully all our advantages at Readville, being new to the life, but we have certainly appreciated them in the retrospect, and those of our number who may take the field again will reap the full benefit of their early experience.

Leaving the cars at the Boston depot, we formed our line, and escorted by our patrons and godfathers, the Cadets, marched directly to the Common, where, on the Beacon mall, a collation was spread to which ample justice was done.

After receiving our remaining colors from the hands of the governor (the regiment carried three flags, United States, State and Regimental), and hearing addresses, very appropriate, no doubt, but so long that we were ready to drop with fatigue, loaded down as we were with full equipments, the last good-byes were said, and we started en route for the wharf.

It was, indeed, a proud moment of our lives, the march that day through the crowded streets of old Boston, elate with the consciousness that we were embarked in a righteous cause, and determined to play our parts like men.

CHAPTER II.
THE VOYAGE.

The mere recollection of the nine days passed on the steamer "Mississippi" is painful, but it occupied too prominent a position in our experience to be omitted in this sketch.

After the usual delay on the wharf, attending the embarkation of a large body of men, we filed on to the steamer, and were ushered into our respective quarters. Our company, with five others, were consigned to the stern of the vessel; so, passing down the companion-way, deeper and deeper, darker and darker, until we could, at least, claim a nearer proximity to China than ever before, we arrived in the hold. As light was never known to penetrate that quarter, for two dim lanterns and three air-holes covered with gratings could hardly be said to afford light, it will be impossible to describe its appearance. As well as could be ascertained by touch and smell, the whole available space was fitted up with bunks, three tiers deep and of different capacities, holding from one to four occupants, those comfortably crowded with three being intended for four, and so on down to the single ones. All this we learned by the touch, and at least we will give them credit for making the most of their room; but our olfactory nerves had another story to tell; however, we will not particularize.

The other companies were stowed in the forward part of the vessel, between decks and in the hold, the band lying wherever they could find space enough. In addition, five companies of the 46th Regiment were entrusted to the tender mercies of the "Mississippi," and where they were packed is beyond the power of man to say—one company, at all events, was located on the quarter-deck.

Now all this would have been well enough had we sailed that night, as was intended, and made the four-day trip to Beaufort; but no such good luck was in store, and our initiation was not to be quite so easy. A heavy northeasterly storm set in, soon after we had hauled into the stream, and for five days, a tempest of rain, hail, sleet and snow raged with unceasing fury.

Colonel Codman declared the vessel should not sail in such a crowded, filthy condition, and the captain said he could not sail if he would, on account of the storm, and more than that, there must be a convoy to protect us from the "Alabama," at that time reported off the coast. So there we lay at anchor, tossing and pitching, in plain sight of the city, which only served to aggravate us in our wretchedness, while near by, lay our companions in misery, the 43d and the remainder of the 46th on our consort, the "Merrimac."

Our drinking-water was condensed from salt water by an apparatus connected with the engine, and was always in a lukewarm, yellowish state, enough to make one renounce water forever, and before which Gough himself would have stood dumb. A guard, also, was always stationed over the cask to prevent the men from drinking too much; whether because the process of condensation had rendered it more precious than common water, or from a fear of the men sickening from a too free use of the vile liquid, is still an unexplained mystery. May the inventor be condemned to have it for an eternal drink!

The food given us baffles all attempt at description. The filthy messes of soup, salt-junk and burnt rice were boiled in the same huge caldron, and the sight of the dirty cook added to one taste of the unknown compound, called by some familiar name calculated to deceive us, was enough to make one eager to die of starvation. It was so pleasant, just before dinner, to be ordered below to await our turn in the long line, and on the way down, catch a glimpse of the cabin table, covered with delicacies fresh from the Boston markets, and when our company was called, to ascend from the depths of the vessel, cup in hand, eager for the sumptuous repast doled out from the great boiler, which, like the magician's flask, furnished tea, coffee, soup, etc., as desired. Yet all this was on a first-class transport;—may heaven take pity on the poor wretches whose hard fate consigns them to vessels of an inferior class!

After strenuous exertions by our colonel and some good friends of the regiment in the city, another steamer, the "Saxon," was provided for the 46th, and our own vessel underwent a partial cleansing. We were also visited by some of the more enterprising of our friends, who ventured down the harbor in a tug during the lulls of the storm, and having received an invoice of lanterns, books and eatables, we were enabled to make ourselves rather more comfortable.

We embarked on Wednesday, and on the following Monday, accompanied by the "Merrimac," "Saxon," and the gun-boat "Huron," we steamed down the harbor just at sunset, overjoyed at the prospect of a quick voyage and a speedy release from our uncomfortable quarters. Two or three of us had, in the course of our wanderings, discovered a cosy little nook in the extreme stern of the vessel, in close proximity to the screw, and here, away from the forlorn, grumbling crowd, which thronged the decks and holds, with our lanterns, books and cards, we managed to while away the weary hours quite pleasantly.

The storm had completely exhausted itself, and the weather was all that could be desired; and though the slowness of our consort, the "Huron," delayed us somewhat, yet after we were once fairly started on our way, nothing occurred to mar the voyage, and on Friday morning, the 14th instant, the lights of Beaufort harbor were visible, and our trials on shipboard were at an end. Our decks were crowded with a happy company, and an exciting race ensued between the "Mississippi" and the "Merrimac," for the pilot-boat which lay off the entrance of the harbor, awaiting our approach; but, to the chagrin of our captain, and in fact of us all, the "Merrimac" came out ahead, and having been boarded by the pilot, proceeded slowly in advance, the "Mississippi" following closely in her wake, without delaying for a second pilot.

It was a perfect morning, and the soft, fresh breeze was very different from the cold wintery blasts we had left behind us in Boston harbor. Every object visible was scanned with curious eyes as we entered the bay and began to thread the channel, rendered very intricate by the low sand-bars which lay in every direction. These were covered with sea-fowl of every description, while the myriads of ducks which blackened the water, made us wish for gun and dog with unceasing and unsatisfied longing.

Two or three gun-boats were riding at anchor in the harbor, and their sides were lined with a row of bronzed faces, whose owners cheered us heartily as we passed slowly by. Fort Macon, of Burnside fame, soon made its appearance on our left, its guns commanding both land and water in all directions, and its ramparts dotted with the garrison who welcomed us as we drew near. The fort is apparently on an island, but is really on the point of a long neck of land running back for some miles before uniting with the main. It has been greatly strengthened since it came into our hands, and, in conjunction with the gun-boats, bids defiance to any foe.

Beaufort lies on the opposite side of the harbor, and presents a very pretty appearance as seen at a distance from the water, but does not improve on a closer acquaintance. The attention is immediately attracted by a large white building standing on the very edge of the water, resting under the shadow of the Stars and Stripes. Formerly the hotel of the place and the summer resort of North Carolinians, it no longer echoes to the tread of the élite of Newbern, but as a government hospital is filled with the poor fellows parched with the fevers which all summer infest the sand-plains on the Neuse, and who doubtless enjoy the cool breezes from the Atlantic, and the delicious sea-bath quite as much as those who formerly thronged the place.

Soon the depot came in sight, and there stood the long train of platform cars, waiting to convey some of us to our destination. The idea of spending another night on the water was almost unendurable, but suddenly we perceived quite a commotion on the decks of our leader, and to our great delight it was soon evident that she was aground. Feeling our way, as it were, step by step, we drew nearer, and a perfect yell of exultation went up from our vessel as we glided by our discomfited rival, and, rejoicing over our victory, steamed alongside the wharf of what was once the Atlantic and North Carolina Railroad, but now is known as the United States Military Railroad.

We were quickly disembarked, and soon closely packed on the open freight cars, rather a novel mode of conveyance to most of us, but one to be recommended as admirably adapted to sight-seeing, and in pleasant weather both airy and agreeable. Leaving the 43d and 46th to pass another night on shipboard, our train was soon on its way to Newbern, distant about forty miles. Our first stop was at Morehead City, though why called "city" it would be hard to say, as it contains but a few miserable houses and a forlorn-looking hotel, famous as the residence, for a time, of Company C of the 45th, who were quartered there as garrison. Every little while a picket-station would come in view, and now and then a camp whose occupants greeted us with shouts of welcome and inquiries as to our State, number of our regiment, latest news, etc. A blockhouse commanding the bridge over a small creek was a novelty, and, as long as daylight lasted, we found enough that was new and interesting to keep our eyes fully occupied. The country itself through which the road passes is wholly devoid of interest—in fact, a vast swamp covered with pine forests, which extend over a great part of the eastern section of the state; tar, pitch and turpentine being correctly given by the geography as among the principal productions.

It was quite dark when the train drew near the town of Newbern, and slowly crossing the long bridge which spans the river Trent, passed up what we afterwards discovered to be Hancock street, lighted, to our great astonishment, with gas. We finally came to a halt before a long freight-house, where a quantity of oats was stored in bags. This building was assigned to the right wing as their quarters for the night, and after our cramped bunks on shipboard, we found the oat-bags very acceptable. The left wing passed the night in some vacant tents near at hand.

As we were decidedly cold and hungry after our ride, the arrival of some of the 44th Mass., with pails of hot coffee, was very opportune, and we regaled them with the latest news from home in return for their kindness. Their description of the hardships endured on the Tarboro' expedition, from which they had just returned, did not tend to heighten our already very far from pleasant impressions of North Carolina as a place of abode.

As we were taught the productions of North Carolina in our youth, the negro stood first on the list, and certainly we had seen no reason to belie that statement. We had not ceased laughing from the time we landed, at the comical figures which met us on every hand. It was the first object to meet our eye at the wharf, and I doubt not the last thing visible as we left the shores of Beaufort on our return. We no longer wondered where the minstrels at the north procured their absurd costumes; here was material for an endless variety. It was better than any play simply to walk about and examine the different styles of dress, for this was before anything had been done at the north for the contrabands, and they appeared in the rags they had brought from their plantations. It was amusing to listen to the questions which greeted them from all sides, the bright answers often displaying more sense than did the questions. Some of our men seemed to have taken it for granted that all the tales they had read of the horrors of slavery were the general rule, and that the great aim and object of every master's life was to abuse and maltreat the slave in every possible way. The erroneous and absurd notions at first entertained by them of the state of southern society, could only be equalled by the opinions of our southern friends about the north. One question asked will serve as an illustration. We were grouped around a fire that first night, talking with some bright little contrabands, when one of our number asked one "If his master ever let him stand by such a nice fire as that," which in that land of pines certainly was rather ridiculous, and, for a Boston boy, rather an insult to his bringing up.

We employed the two or three hours of leisure the next morning in a tour of inspection through the town. With our eyes still dazzled with the bright effulgence of the New England metropolis, and unaccustomed to the darkness of that benighted land, we unhesitatingly pronounced it the meanest, dirtiest spot we had ever set foot in. But it did not take many weeks of camp life, where the only houses visible were the barracks and a few miserable negro hovels, to create a very decided change in our views upon this subject, as well as on many others of like nature.

The town is very prettily situated at the confluence of the Neuse and Trent, the former between one and two miles wide at this point, the latter something less than a mile. It is laid out quite regularly and abounds in elms and flower gardens, many of them very beautiful, and relieving the otherwise ugly streets. We became better, in fact most intimately, acquainted with the place when we were quartered there, and a more minute description will be found further on. Our first impressions received that morning were, however, certainly the reverse of pleasant.