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https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/files/original/00019a61cec67832fc60c84adedfd360.pdf
c8a2b734ffb263cecd22f3db30a541a1
Dublin Core
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Title
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Cornelius B. Gold Journal
Creator
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Cornelius B. Gold
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1861-1863
Text
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Text
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<p class="p1">Hilton Head, S.C. March 20, 1864<br />My Dear Mother,<br />I propose to begin this week well, by starting<br />a letter for you on the first day, that the mail may not catch<br />me napping as it did last week. The day is almost gone, it lacks<br />but 20 minutes of the signal for putting out lights, but perhaps<br />before then I may let you part way into this day’s doings, and<br />make ready to let myself into blankets. The first sound that<br />broke the stillness of our sabbath morning air was heavy firing<br />of artillery with two or three volleys of musketry in the direction<br />of Seabrook, a picket station + steamboat landing four or five miles<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span>distant at the entrance of the division stream between our men<br />and the rebel lines. The firing continued for an hour or more, and<br />put us all to our wits ends to know what it meant, though too<br />confident of our position to be rendered at all uneasy by it. The<br />upshot of the matter was this. Five small boat loads of rebels approached<br />Seabrook with an evident intention to “feel their way” ashore, but<br />found more yankees than they expected in the decimated state<br />of the Union Army since the Florida disaster. Our pickets formed<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span>in line and gave them a good raking with musket balls, where<br />they turned right about + made tracks for the other side of Jordan<br />groaning loud enough to satisfy our men with the effect of their<br />fire. A gun-boat then steamed up and shelled the rebels back<br />to a respectful distance. About 6 o’clock this afternoon while writing<br />in the adjutant’s tent + listening to the talk of the officers, a message<br />came from the commander of the district for Col. Duryee to repair at once</p>
<p class="p1">[Page 2]<br />to his quarters. He left, expecting a night in the saddle, and<br />ordering Col. Meeker in case of a telegram from him, to man<br />every gun on the fortifications + be ready for action. So you see<br />we have a little stir here that seems like a <span style="text-decoration:underline;">breath</span>, if not a “<span style="text-decoration:underline;">blast</span> of<br />war.” But we anticipate nothing serious. The withdrawal of so<br />many troops from Port Royal makes the enemy in our vicinity more<br />daring than usual and from occasional skirmishes with our<br />pickets + picket boats we judge they are feeling our strength a<br />little. Our commanders are cautious as they have reason to be.<br />I have not been to church today. Our chapel (which is only ours by<br />sufferance) passed into Roman Catholic hands for today, + our<br />little altar became a table for the Priest of Rome + his “Mass”.<br />Mr. Mitchell went there , but could not enter on account of the throng<br />about the door caused however not by the crowd within, but, according<br />to Mr. O’Brien by the too hasty devotion of those first entering, who<br />dropped forthwith upon their knees and blocked the passage so<br />that his Holiness had full half the house to himself, many poor<br />sinners remaining without. There being no church, I took an<br />independent and walked round my “square”, which isn’t square<br />at<br />all but oblong + quite shapeless, one mile across the plain to<br />where<br />the road issuing between Battery + “nat’ral born” sand knolls,<br />strikes the beach, and another mile back by the water side. There<br />is a remnant of a wood + a <span style="text-decoration:underline;">whole swamp</span> left within the Entrenchments<br />where by bog jumping + tearing trousers in the thicket one may<br />gather wild blossoms from flowering shrubs. I ventured far<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span>enough into the slough to pick a handful of sweet scented blooms,<br />white + yellow, brought them home with me, filled a small milk-<br />can with water, + for the first time since my sojourn in the South, make</p>
<p class="p2">[Page 3]<br />boast of a Bouquet on my table. It is not quite as if some<br />fairer hand than mine had placed it there, but it is right pleasant<br />and makes me fonder of my tented home than ever. The little<br />space<br />is full of fragrance like the perfume from a Hyacinth.<br />After dinner, I read a little, wrote a little, took a nap, and some time<br />during the day have taken in several chapters from the Book of Samuel<br />being lead to it the verse for today in my “Chaplet of Flowers.<br />After supper I finished the necessary business writing for the day,<br />and took another two mile walk on the shore. Returning past the<br />General Hospital, I was reminded of a prayer meeting held there<br />this evening, and directed by the sound of a hymn, found my<br />way to where the saints were gathered. It was in the great dining<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span>hall, a nucleus, of the Hospital chaplain, three or four ladies + as many<br />officers, and perhaps a hundred “rank + file” gathered in one end,<br />with nearly as many more strung along toward the outer door.<br />Among the last I took my seat, being a late comer, + an <span style="text-decoration:underline;">early</span><br />goer, from necessity. The meeting was very interesting, and it was<br />particularly pleasant to hear the singing lead by a full-voiced lady.<br />Generally I much prefer a good male leader but the rarity of the<br />other in these parts makes it valuable. I would not have you think<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span>the singing was the chief attraction. It strengthens me to breathe an<br />atmosphere like that, and if anywhere in the world we need to “meet<br />together for prayer” it is just there, where constant contact with Godless<br />war inclines us to <span style="text-decoration:underline;">forget</span> God.<br />Wednes Tuesday March 23. The fat mail bag just staggered into camp on the<br />shoulders of a stout soldier, and pending the distribution I will finish<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span>this, that the carrier may not return empty handed. The “Line<br />storm” struck us like a thunderbolt Monday night, “weeping + wailing</p>
<p class="p2">[Page 4]<br />for 36 hours thereafter. A dismal cold storm it was, but the clearing<br />away this morning before a clear bracing norther is delightful.<br />When I have said my little say to you, I intend a trip for the<br />“benefit of my health”, and as big a draught of oxygen as the<br />Dutchmen take of Lager-bier. For two days past, I have alternately<br />hugged a hot stove + slept in damp blankets till the result<br />is <br />anything but enviable. It makes a fellow feel slightually <span style="text-decoration:underline;">stiff</span><br />+ top heavy. No real damage done however. The rebels keep up<br />a little irritation along the picket lines, drawing a stray shot from<br />night to night, causing double guard on our side + double<br />vigilance,<br />that is all. A son of the rebel General Finnigan has been<br />recognized<br />on this island, + fired at once by a sentinel. He is lurking about in the<br />capacity of a spy and it is thought the hostile demonstrations maybe<br />with intention of facilitating Finnigan’s escape. It is a difficult<br />matter to ferret him out, and about as difficult for him to get<br />out of the scrape himself. If taken we may have the privilege<br />of “hanging a spy”. Last evening quite an excitement started into<br />life with a ring from the fire-bell. Post Headquarters were<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span>on fire. Fortunately the flame was subdued before reaching the windows<br />or the damage would have been serious in such a wild windy<br />night. So you see the light intermittent fever of Hilton Head<br />keeps us from entire stagnation. Here come the precious documents.<br />I must stop short, + “read, mark + inwardly digest,” the few that<br />pertain to me. The feast is over + it was a feast though I shall still<br />have room for the dessert in the <span style="text-decoration:underline;">barrel</span>. Perhaps it may arrive in time to<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span>acknowledge this mail so I will leave my letter open. The handkerchief<br />is welcome. Please thank you “Willis” for the “Palladiums” + “Pictorials.” His<br />sister must be a marvellous good one. To be sure, if he thinks it would give her pleasure<br />to arrange + frame the China Leaves, I have no sort of objections though I supposed the pretty</p>
<p class="p2">[Page 1, margins]<br />ones all disposed of. But you had better have the names of places + dates with each, as they give the leaves<br />their principal value.<br />This lastly the way is<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span>in reply to <span style="text-decoration:underline;">Harry</span>.<br />You need not be<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span>“surprised”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>at all<br />at my being “home-<br />sick <span style="text-decoration:underline;">some</span> times,<br />since it does not<br />in the slightest<br />interfere with<br />my contentedness<br />here. It is a very<br />mild form of the<br />disease, comes seldom<br />and then only as a<br />gentle reminder<br />that I have a home<br />to love + be “sick”<br />for if I choose.<br />There hath no tempta-<br />tion taken me except<br />such as is common to<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span>man”. I am no whit<br />less happy than I have<br />been from the first.<br />Your aff.<br />Cornelius</p>
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Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
manuscript letter
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Cornelius Gold, 6th C.V.I., March 20, 1864
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1864-03-20
Subject
The topic of the resource
Civil War, combat, religion, camp life,
Description
An account of the resource
Cornelius Gold writes to his mother of camp life, religious observances in camp, skirmishes with Confederate pickets, and the general state of the Union army after the Florida campaign.