CXXVIII

Point Lookout, Md.,January 16, 1864.

A MAILreached us yesterday—the first we have had since the 9th. Reason, the ice in the river. The boat started from Washington all right, ran down as far as Mount Vernon, aboutfifteen miles, and anchored for the night. When she started, shedidn’tstart, for she was frozen in as tight as a drum. And there she lay in the ice, for two days, with our mail aboard. Then another boat came and cut her out. During this lay-up some of our boys on board went ashore on a visit to Washington’s home and tomb.

The monotony of camp life has been broken by a raid across the river into the counties of Northumberland, Lancaster and Richmond. The expedition left here last Tuesday, the 12th, and was made up of 150 cavalry and detachments of 150 men from both the Second and Twelfth. Bill Ramsdell was one of the marauders, and he says it was one of the greatest larks of the war. The men came home loaded with every conceivable kind of plunder, but they were pretty well fagged out. The expedition went up the river about fifteen miles, then up a creek several miles, where they destroyed a sloop and several schooners, then landed and marched inland. They spread out over the country, and picked up quite a number of prisoners—soldiers on furlough, conscript officers, &c. One of these was a captain, who was enjoying a carriage ride with his lady love. He was politely requested to get down, one of the boys politely took his seat in the carriage, politely drove the young lady home, politely helped her out, bade her good bye with exquisite politeness, and drove away with the team as a prize of war.

You ask me about Charlie Farnam. It was not here, but down in South Carolina, I think, that he was drowned. He had been discharged from this regiment and had joined the navy. As we hear it, he was in a boat, which capsized, and he had nearly reached the shore when he sank.

Sunday, January 17.

I must tell you, before I forget it, all about our crazy man. One of the fellows in my tent, who came out about two months ago, had evidently got tired of the service, and began to play crazy, for a discharge. He began to sleep all day, so as to be in good shape to lie awake all night. For two nights he kept us awake with his “Boots ten feet long,” “Man in the tent,” “Where am I?” “Who am I?” and such nonsense. When awake in the daytime he was continually hunting for horsehairs on his hands, and it was a decidedly interesting case of amateur lunacy. He couldn’t eat anything—so he said—but he managed to pack away a good quantity of grub on thesly. Well, he started in on his third night, and kept his twaddle going until midnight, when something happened. Dan’s Irish got the best of him and he could hold in no longer. He kicked off the blankets that covered us, elevated his heels, and fairly kicked the top bunk into kindling wood. The crazy man landed on the stove, and the wreckage was scattered all over the tent. Then old Dan. opened up with his tongue and gave our amateur lunatic Hail Columbia, Rule Britannia and Erin go Bragh, all rolled into one, and threatening to take him out and pitch him into the river if he didn’t become immediately and permanently sane. Dan’s treatment effected a complete and wonderful cure.

One of the old men of the regiment was married a short time ago to the daughter of an old planter living up country a short distance. The fellow was Pete Gravlin; the girl seventeen and very pretty; the parents rich. The old folks were dead set against any such arrangement, but Pete and the maiden were determined, so down to the Point he brought her and she became Mrs. Gravlin.

A collection has been taken up in this regiment for a fund to build a chapel. The human desire to outstrip our neighbors has made the “collection” a success. The Twelfth built one which cost $300, and now twice that sum has been raised in the Second, and we are congratulating ourselves, not upon the prospect of having a chapel, but upon the fact that it will be bigger than the Twelfth’s.

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