"NEW ORLEANS, La., October, 1864.
"Mrs. Beulah Lincoln,
"My Dear Beulah:—Since I was promoted to the rank of captain, my duties have varied a good deal more at different times than they did when I was a private in the ranks. I have lately been away in the interior of this State, but here I am back to the Crescent City once more, and ever trying to attend most faithfully to my duties. I tell you, my dear Beulah, it takes every one of us to do our very best,—with a long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull altogether,—to pull down this terrible and powerful rebellion. People can think, and talk, and even write all they please; but I am firmly convinced that had Abraham Lincoln not issued his famous emancipation proclamation on the 1st of January, 1863, the war would go on for twenty years, and perhaps we would have to compromise with the rebels even then. And then they are such fighters! Why, they are worse than tigers! However that may be, I know one thing,—since the issuing of that proclamation the rebellion has been cut down in territory on all sides; and, as we have got hold of the rebel ports, one by one, the blockade runners have been cut off by sea to that extent. Thus we have cut off their supplies from foreign nations; and right here I may notice that, as to the millions of silver and gold that the South has piled and heaped from the toils and labors of the oppressed slaves,—of all that ill-gotten coin, there is perhaps not one dollar of it left now in the entire South. It has all gone to buy the munition of war in Europe; and yet the cause for which the South has expended it will all be lost!
"The rebellion is going down, and will come to an end by and by. I suppose there are now about 200,000 colored troops in the field, many of whom used to raise the crops for 'old Massa.' Now white men must stay at home and raise the crops, and look after their own families into the bargain, and all that is so much more cut off from their resources.
"I used to be of the opinion that after all the lickings we have given them, and seeing that they had no prospect but ultimate defeat before their eyes, they would come to terms and lay down their arms. But no!—nothing of the sort indeed! They have still their pride left, and that is something!—I don't think we will ever conquer them; but we will just wear them away, one by one, till there is not another rebel left. The armies of the nations of history have usually laid down their arms when they saw that the struggle was quite hopeless; but so long as there is even one Southern rebel left who can stand on his feet and hold up a flag, I believe they will say that the South is still independent and free! We will never conquer them; we shall have to wear them out!
"We here at the seat of war in the South are splendidly supplied with an abundance of newspapers, magazines, and I know not what besides. Some are illustrated with all sorts of pictures, and some are not illustrated; and they appear to be sent to us poor fellows by all sorts of good people from all the four winds of heaven. In one of these latest magazines there is a very vivid representation of a terrible fight that the First South Carolina Colored Regiment had with bloodhounds at Pocataligo Bridge, on the 23rd of October, 1862. The rebels came streaming on through the woods, with horse, foot and dragoons, and also the bloodhounds. Our own brave men advanced boldly through among the trees, and attacked dog, horse and man in a terrible hurry. The hounds especially dashed against our men with great fierceness, but they were shot down and bayoneted quicker than it takes me to tell the tale with pen and ink. Then the gallant troops held them up aloft for joy on the points of their bayonets and laughed. The dogs looked just like meat on the point of a fork. I have turned the entire scene into a little poem of my own. Here it is:
"We met the bloodhounds at the bridge,
They ran with all their might;
Their open months cried bow, wow, wow!
It was a glorious sight.
We ran our bayonets through their backs,
We shot them with the gun;
It was all over with the dogs,
And 'twas most glorious fun!
"In former days those brutes were used
To hunt the flying slave;
They tracked them through their dismal swamps,
And little quarter gave;
But when they tried the game of war
We knocked them on the head,
We shot them quick, and ran them through,
Until every hound was dead!
"Thus perished those bad dogs at once,
We tossed them high for fun;
We held them on our bayonet tops,
And finished the last one;
Which was a flitting end for them,
The brutes shall bark no more,
Nor hunt the flying fugitive
On Carolina's shore!
"But slavery there has lost the day,
They need bloodhounds no more;
All men and women now are free
On Carolina's shore;
The white man now will learn to work
Like other men I trow,
Nor raise the bloodhounds for the chase,
Big brutes that cry bow, wow!
"But I must lay down the pen, or else I am sure you will begin to get tired of my long letter. I was very greatly interested, indeed, in your glorious visit to Canada. I would like to go there myself. Perhaps we will all visit them together some future day. With much warm love to yourself, the girls, and all the rest. I am as ever,
"Your most loving husband,
"THOMAS LINCOLN."