“Abbie Clark

and I

had our ambrotypes taken to-day.”

“Mr. Noah T. Clark’s
Brother and I”

July 26.—Charlie Wheeler was buried with military honors from the Congregational church to-day. Two companies of the 54th New York State National Guard attended the funeral, and the church was packed, galleries and all. It was the saddest funeral and the only one of a soldier that I ever attended. I hope it will be the last. He was killed at Gettysburg, July 3, by a sharpshooter’s bullet. He was a very bright young man, graduate of Yale college and was practising law. He was captain of Company K, 126th N. Y. Volunteers. I have copied an extract from Mr. Morse’s lecture, “You and I”: “And who has forgotten that gifted youth, who fell on the memorable field of Gettysburg? To win a noble name, to save a beloved country, he took his place beneath the dear old flag, and while cannon thundered and sabers clashed and the stars of the old Union shone above his head he went down in the shock of battle and left us desolate, a name to love and a glory to endure. And as we solemnly know, as by the old charter of liberty we most sacredly swear, he was truly and faithfully and religiously

Of all our friends the noblest, The choicest and the purest, The nearest and the dearest, In the field at Gettysburg. Of all the heroes bravest, Of soul the brightest, whitest, Of all the warriors greatest, Shot dead at Gettysburg. And where the fight was thickest, And where the smoke was blackest, And where the fire was hottest, On the fields of Gettysburg, There flashed his steel the brightest, There blazed his eyes the fiercest, There flowed his blood the reddest On the field of Gettysburg. O wailing winds of heaven! O weeping dew of evening! O music of the waters That flow at Gettysburg, Mourn tenderly the hero, The rare and glorious hero, The loved and peerless hero, Who died at Gettysburg. His turf shall be the greenest, His roses bloom the sweetest, His willow droop the saddest Of all at Gettysburg. His memory live the freshest, His fame be cherished longest, Of all the holy warriors, Who fell at Gettysburg.

These were patriots, these were our jewels. When shall we see their like again? And of every soldier who has fallen in this war his friends may write just as lovingly as you and I may do of those to whom I pay my feeble tribute.”

August, 1863.—The U. S. Sanitary Commission has been organized. Canandaigua sent Dr. W. Fitch Cheney to Gettysburg with supplies for the sick and wounded and he took seven assistants with him. Home bounty was brought to the tents and put into the hands of the wounded soldiers. A blessed work.

August 12.—Lucilla Field was married in our church to-day to Rev. S. W. Pratt. I always thought she was cut out for a minister’s wife. Jennie Draper cried herself sick because Lucilla, her Sunday School teacher, is going away.

October 8.—News came to-day of the death of Lieutenant Hiram Brown. He died of fever at Portsmouth, only little more than a year after he went away.

November 1.—The 4th New York Heavy Artillery is stationed at Fort Hamilton, N. Y. harbor. Uncle Edward has invited me down to New York to spend a month! Very opportune! Grandfather says that I can go and Miss Rosewarne is beginning a new dress for me to-day.

November 6.—We were saddened to-day by news of the death of Augustus Torrey Wilder in the hospital at Fort Ethan Allen.

November 9.—No. 68 E. 19th Street, New York City. Grandfather and I came from Canandaigua yesterday. He is at Gramercy Park Hotel. We were met by a military escort of “one” at Albany and consequently came through more safely, I suppose. James met us at 42d Street Grand Central Station. He lives at Uncle Edward’s; attends to all of his legal business and is his confidential clerk. I like it very much here. They are very stylish and grand but I don’t mind that. Aunt Emily is reserved and dignified but very kind. People do not pour their tea or coffee into their saucers any more to cool it, but drink it from the cup, and you must mind and not leave your teaspoon in your cup. I notice everything and am very particular. Mr. Morris K. Jesup lives right across the street and I see him every day, as he is a friend of Uncle Edward. Grandfather has gone back home and left me in charge of friends “a la militaire” and others.