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inspection for which the drums are beating.

Evening. Well, we were inspected and reviewed by Gen. Lane and turned out rising three thousand men; a fine sight, but poor fun for us, our legs were not sufficiently rested to see any beauty in it. While we were being reviewed the train started back, by which I intended to send them this. Ten wagons and two companies of horse have gone back to Vera Cruz for provisions and ammunition. There will be another go in two or three days, so I will keep on until I have written all that I intended to.

A train of Mexican merchants passed through camp today, right from the city of Mexico, with a passport from Scott. They say that Scott has advanced to the suburbs of the city and fortified himself so that he can batter it down any time he likes, but that peace will be made before the city is taken. This is my opinion, referred to above; not worth much, but still it is what I believe and hope for.

While I tell you that I shall come home in a year anyhow, I believe we shall all be there much sooner. Against this opinion there is but one thing to urge, and that is that the war will last forever. If the better class of citizens in Mexico can rule, they will make peace, and thus secure the aid of our government in perpetuating their rule; if they do not make peace it will be because the mass, the rabble, the slaves will not let them. The consequences will be that the better class will leave the country and we will have to exterminate the rest by fire and sword, for they will fight and plunder eternally, as they have nothing to lose and a livelihood to gain by it. All this the nobles and wealthy men of Mexico are aware of and, if it is possible, my opinion is, they will make peace now, before they surrender. Excuse this arguing, but I can see you cannot help giving vent to your woman's reasoning, and you may be nearer right than I, for you "believe what you fear" while I believe what I hope. Yours may make disappointment less bitter but mine gives me more happiness right now. We too think it hard that the war should be conducted as it is, so much courtesy and leniency shown to Mexicans,

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their rights so regarded and their persons and property so well taken care of by
our government, but it may be all right; it is not the nobles and wealthy or
business men who protract the war, but the paid soldier, the ambitious leader, and
the great masses who are robbers and slaves. The intentions and demands of our
government are not understood yet even by those well disposed toward us, much less
the rabble. I hope that the better party will prevail and I believe they will.
Another reason why I think they will make peace; our government offers to keep an
army here to defend the party in power from the rest who may be against a peace. I
believe this to be the only plan by which they can exist as a government. Do not
stop giving me your reasons for thinking as you do about anything. I love to hear
you argue. I think I can trace most of it to your fears for me and your own
happiness, and that is gratifying, even if the reasoning should not be as profound
as that of a Statesman. I always hoped and never yet was unhappy, but it turned
out for the best, unless I was the cause of it myself. And now, feeling that I came
here from a sense of duty and not from ambitious views, I can as confidently hope
as ever, and my hope is strong that I shall return to you and be the happiest man
on earth. I know I do not deserve so great a happiness and that I am unworthy of it,
but still I hope for your sake and that of my children. Your inquiry about a
store I shall answer as the girls think when a fellow asks for a kiss; do as you
please about it. If I were certain of coming home soon, that is before cold
weather, I would want you to put it off, but that is not probable, for if peace
was made now we could not get home under three months. So you can do as you think
best about it. I think I can get a better store for you than you can get there,
but perhaps not. Before you receive this Sweetser will have received the draft
I sent by Wallace and I think you will not get short before I can send again. I
don't wish you to work for anybody; if anyone wants fine clothes let them get them.
I never did want you to work, nor need you do it now, just take care of yourself
and the children and mother and the rest of the time write to me. I'll pay as

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liberally as anybody but you must serve me faithfully. I would like to get a
letter every day, but you cannot send so many even if you could write them, so I
will not be hard with you. Send one every mail, and the longer the letter the
better the pay, if you wait till I come back for it. Oh, how I would like to be
with you today. I do not often indulge in such wishes, for it makes me more
lonely and sad than ever. I do think of you though. Long, long hours I devote
to you when I can get alone by the side of some stream or in the woods and my very
heart aches for the joys of home; the comforts are forgotten, but the mirth and
innocence of our children, the abiding love and tender solicitude of a wife, and
the kind care of a mother, when remembered, forms so strong a contrast to my pre-
sent situation that if I could cry I should often do so, at the bare remembrance
of what I have sacrificed. I must not write so though, for I do not suffer myself
to get so effected often, and indulging in this strain makes me a child. I am
truly sorry to hear that mother is sick and I hope that long ere this she is better.
I want to come home for her sake too, and if I should live until she gets old, be
the prop of her declining years. Surely it would be a delightful duty for me and
one that I hope I may live to perform.

There is one item about that explosion,-- John Wallace says that "they went ashore
to bury the dead"-- I learn he wrote so to Marion. Now, for the facts, the boys
from Delaware County, after the Col. had gone with one boat, got another boat
alongside to take the corpse of Carmichael ashore to bury it. The boat came
alongside, but before they could get the body into it, Wallace sprang into the boat,
with William and Oliver Carey and ten or fifteen others, and ordered them to "shove
off". He knew the body was not in the boat, nor did he intend it should be.
Another thing, the sea was not very rough, not at all dangerous, for the boys went
ashore frequently and returned with boats. The next morning they took the body
ashore and buried it. He is an arrant coward, in my opinion, and if he had the

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frankness to be known as such he would be a good fellow. But this vapering is all
gammon, however, if he can pass himself for a brave man I shall never deny it; he
is welcome to all the laurels he can gain from his trip here.

Friday, Sept. 24th. From this date you will see that our orders to march this morn-
ing were countermanded, and we are still here. We shall wait, I think, for the
return of the train from Vera Cruz. The Commanding Officers are very close and we
can hardly find out time or place of moving. The probability is that the train will
not return until tomorrow and we start the day after. Gen. Lane intends to report
his command to Gen. Scott's headquarters, unless he is stopped by orders on the
road. Troops are wanted to station Cerro Gordo, Jallapa and Puebla. Cerro Gordo
is again in possession of the Mexicans and rumor says they are fortifying to give
us a brush, but when this force arrives there the enemy will be gone. There is no
force here able to meet us nor will they attempt it, unless by harassing our rear
and attempting to stampede the trains. Cerro Gordo commands the road through the
mountains just as this fort does here, but there is a way of getting around in the
rear of it and whenever our infantry get beyond their range in front, then they
run, always. Just think, one company of fifty men climbed the heights here and
got on the brink of the fort when the whole garrison ran down the hill on the
other side for their lives; this gives you an idea of their relish for our bayonets.

I do not seriously think that we shall get a fight, for in all probability we
shall be joined by Hay's regiment of rangers tomorrow, the Massachusetts regiment
and the 13th Infantry; this will make our force 5000. The Baltimore battalion
joined Gen. Lane today and go with us. We shall then have nearly a thousand horse,
enough to keep all the Mexicans in this country ten miles from the road. A great
deal of bluster and gasconading is done about the slightest affair, every officer
must be puffed some, and I have no doubt you will see in the papers our attack
grown into a battle and our commanding officers praised for their skill and bravery.

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Well, it is all right; those who procure any of this fame earn it richly if they never see powder burns, particularly those who have left homes and families.

I shall not write any more until I find out when we go or when I can send this to Vera Cruz. If we should not go in too much of a hurry I'll write some more, if I cannot I'll write by every return train or other opportunity. Oh, how I wish for a letter by the train tomorrow, but it is most too soon,— still I will hope and if it don't come why I'll hope on until one does come. Remember me kindly to all who inquire for me, and I am as ever, Affectionately, John.

Perote, Mexico, Oct. 5th, 1947.

My dear Wife: I have just heard that letters can be get through to Vera Cruz somehow, I don't know how, and I embrace a leisure hour to write you this. I have written a number of letters since we left that place but it is doubtful if you get many of them. Every thing is going toward the City and no force is going the other way to secure the transmission of mail. Letters are taken by a courier or express or by a friendly Mexican or any other way. I do not like to write long letters unless there is a prospect of your receiving them.

Now I am happy to be able to assure you of my health and that it has continually been improving since we left Vera Cruz. I got tired some days in marching, but would feel well the next morning. This morning I received the appointment of Adjutant of the regiment and will have a horse to ride and an increase of pay. I know you will be glad to hear this both on account of the honor and the comfort it confers upon me. The post is an arduous one and required the first degree of military qualifications. I commence it with the good feelings of all the field and staff officers; nearly every Captain and lieutenant in the regiment have congratulated me upon receiving the appointment. Our company are not well pleased with it, some of them saying openly that "the company is new without an officer". How Mr. Carey will relish this I know not and care not. He is very unpopular in the company both for his ignorance and meanness and now he couldn't get six votes in

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the company for Captain. If Wallace resigns I could now get three fourths of the company, but I would not give up the post and pay of Adjutant for that of Captain. Carey is despised by all the officers, who know him for his meanness, and laughed at for his stupidity. I knew it would all come out right and all I had to do was to keep shady and he would show his backsides. The boys are now very sorry that they did not petition Wallace to resign and elect me Captain, but they must now put up with Carey for a commander. We hear that Wallace has been ordered by the War Department to recruit and report to Col. Irwin at Cincinnati; if this is the case he will not resign until that is done and he is ordered to join his company. Then I think he will resign rather than come back.

Nothing has transpired to change my opinion as to the war or its duration. We have plenty of reports that the enemy is in our front, but we have not found him yet and have travelled from Vera Cruz 110 miles. The news here is that Santa Anna has escaped from Mexico with about five thousand men and that he is endeavoring to get to the sea coast to make his escape from the country. He has certainly left the city and got this side of Puebla, for we have news from Col. Childs at Puebla that this is true. I do not think he will get by us without a fight and we are now nearly five thousand strong, so that the result is not doubtful. Gen. Cushing is about a week behind us with four thousand more, so that Santa Anna's chance for escape is rather slim. There is no doubt but that he will either fortify himself in some strong pass and fight us, or by some masterly trick get by us and make his way to some seaport not in our possession. If he does so he must lose his army and that will virtually close the war. The last courier here from Mexico brought the intelligence that the Mexican Congress would sit on the 5th of this month (today) to try and negotiate a peace with Gen. Scott. I think it will be accomplished soon and feel as safe as ever I did. I think we will all be at home before next spring. Others too entertain this opinion, and those who knew something about it.

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I care not how far we go as I can go comfortably, but for your sake I am anxious to avoid danger, much as I should like to see two armies drawn up against each other, and take a brush with these redskins. There is no enemy about here, but Gen. Lane believes Santa Anna is fortifying himself between here and Puebla (distant 90 miles) and that we must whip him and if possible take him.

It is the rainy season now and we have marched for four days in the rain, and one night, encamped in the road without shelter, fire or anything to eat. We generally get to some village at night and occupy the houses. Our men are in good health, there being but three sick in our company at present. The whole regiment is in better health and spirits, notwithstanding the hardships, than since we left New Orleans. The weather is cool, very cool in the morning, as cold as October in Indiana, the water cold and excellent, and the roads good, so that we shall get along finely. Water gushes from fountains in every direction, brought in conduits from the mountain springs which are abundant. I never saw a more lovely country than we have passed through for the last four days, and I do not believe there is a more lovely country on earth. The country all the way to the City is highly cultivated and abounds in fruit, as well as almost all kinds of grain. Wheat and corn grow here; two drops of corn and two of peaches, apples, etc. We pass large groves of oranges and lemons, and a tree full of ripe ones looks beautiful. We get as many as we can carry for a shilling. Oh, how I wish I could send you a bushel or two.

I shall not attempt to describe the country nor the incidents of our march; these I will tell you when I return. Will it not be pleasant as we sit around the tea table at home to talk of the country, the battles, the jokes, the escapes and everything which occurs here. I hope to enjoy this privilege and Oh, what a happiness it will be and how well I shall love my home and what a hard job it would be to get me away again. I have enough to tell you to keep me busy for a year, and I do not think you will complain of my want of desire to entertain you. I'll talk to you until you will

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be glad to get me to hush. I hardly dare expect to hear from you until the communication is opened through to the City, but it may be that Gen. Gushing's command will bring a mail for us. Indeed I know it will, but after that it will be a good while. You must not get frightened if you do not hear from me often. I shall write as often as there is a reasonable prospect of getting a letter through; I do not like to write long letters for the Mexicans to destroy.

My new office compels me to write about two hours a day, and I have to attend all guard mountings, parades, reviews, etc., and am relieved from duty with my company, although my appointment makes no vacancy. Oliver is much chagrined, he hoped there would be a vacancy (the great fool); there would not two votes for him. The Careys are well and everyone else. Good bye, take care of yourself until I return; don't fret yourself to death, keep fat and the roses in bloom. Yours forever, John.

We leave here tomorrow certain and will be in Puebla in six days where we will stop for orders from Gen. Scott. Puebla is, ninety miles from Mexico. The road is paved all the way so that we shall get along faster. If we have a fight you will hear from us sooner, as express will be sent.

Puebla, Mexico, Oct. 15th, 1847.

Dear Eliza: How dear, at this great distance, with the dangers that are around us and that lay between you and me, your own heart must tell you, for I can compare my feelings to those of no one in the wide world but yourself. I think of you and home, I dream of you, I languish for you until, instead of a soldier I am a woman, and then I feel as you do. The toilsome march, the hard bivouac, the scanty fare and even the whistling bullet, is nothing to endure in comparison to the loss of all I love; and when I tell you this you can understand all my feelings as well as if I were to torture language for an expression of them at greater length. If I say less of you than formerly, do not think it is because my heart is less full of you, but because I cannot tell you anything; you must feel it all yourself. I have sat down to write you more as a relief to my feelings and to occupy an hour of leisure than

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with any hope of sending the letter through. I learned this morning from the Lieut.
Col., who is a good friend of mine, that he had a prospect of getting letters back
to Vera Cruz in some way, I know not how. I have written several letters since we
left there, but it is not probable to me that you have received many of them, if any.

First I will tell you that I am in excellent health and it is astonishing to me
that it is so, when I think what I have endured since we left Vera Cruz. But I
have never enjoyed so good health for many years as I do now. A bad cold and one day
of headache is all my sickness for the last two months. On the first of October I
was appointed Adjutant of the regiment and furnished a horse; since then I have felt
greatly relieved, as the marching was the only thing that hurt me. I mess with the
Lieut. Col. and two others of the staff officers and we have two servants to take
care of our horses and cook for us. Though more expensive than a mess of company
officers, we always have good quarters when in a town and our marquee when encamped
on the road. We live comfortable, even in some luxury here, for we can get everything
under the sun to eat and are in good quarters. Our room is in the second story of
the San Agustine Convent, a splendid building. The part of the building we occupy
is a quadrangle with a garden in the center and fountains of water gushing constantly.
Around the four sides of the quadrangle in the first story is our regiment and in
the second the quarters of the officers. The Cathedral of the convent is adjoining, which we do not disturb, nor the part of the building used by the monks and nuns.
This one building alone would quarter ten thousand troops and is the one occupied
by Gen. Scott. The other regiments are quartered in different parts of the town and
the whole city and suburbs patrolled by squadrons of horse and foot constantly.
But I must give you a history of our march from Jalapa and our battles, for we have
had to fight some to get here. After I wrote you at the National Bridge we had no
trouble on our march to Jalapa nor from there to Perote, where there is a strong
fort in our possession. At Perote we learned that Col. Childs, who was in this city

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with five thousand men, was besieged by Santa Anna with 8000 men, and we started on a forced march to his relief. Nothing occurred until we reached San Vecente, a small town 35 miles from here, when our advance guard began to skirmish with the enemy. There Gen. Lane learned that Santa Anna's quarters were in a town off the road twelve miles, named Huamantla, pronounced Wah-man-cla, a place never visited by our troops. Early on the morning of Oct. 9th Capt. Walker went out with his company of dragoons, and brought the information that four thousand lancers had left the town with the intention of attacking us in a pass in front, leaving about five hundred in the town with three pieces of cannon. Gen. Lane immediately determined to go out and attack the town. We left the camp with our regiment, one regiment of regulars and 150 dragoons under Walker. When we were about two miles from the town Capt. Walker went forward with his dragoons and without stopping charged upon the Mexicans in the plaza, drove them out and took two pieces of cannon. The flying Mexicans soon brought down upon him the four thousand lancers who had only retired behind a mountain thinking Gen. Lane would send Walker alone to attack the place, and they thus hoped to destroy him. When the lancers wheeled out from the mountain we could see them plainly, and away we ran to get there first. But they beat us and charged upon Walker's little band, who immediately dismounted and put their backs to the wall with one piece of cannon in front, resolved to sell their lives dearly. They finally got into a yard with a high brick wall around it, and Walker was out in front getting their cannon loaded when he was shot from a discharge of grape and canister and killed instantly. The Mexicans were so eager to destroy the dragoons that they did not see us until we charged into the town. German divided our regiment, half took a circuit to cut off their retreat, the other half charged down into the plaza. At the first discharge of our guns away they went like so many frightened birds, our boys pursuing and yelling like devils. They were completely routed and we did not pursue them far as our men were much exhausted from their previous race. The Mexican loss was about one hundred, ours twelve, mostly

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Walker's men. The Indiana regiment were the only troops in town when the enemy fled and the only ones who got to fire upon them except the dragoons. The boys came up to it finely, and have now golden opinions from all. Walker's men commenced plundering the town and were soon joined by the regulars and some of ours, but it was soon stopped and nothing destroyed but a large quantity of ammunition and arms, government property. Having no time to lose we started back to camp, and the next morning started for this place which we reached on the 12th. As we approached the town we learned that the Mexican force commenced their retreat early in the morning and we should have no opposition in entering the town. As we came in on the principal road, our regiment in advance, we were fired upon from a stone church on our left, where the enemy had posted themselves to check our advance, but we were instantly ordered to charge into a run, which was done in quick time. The Mexicans ran of course, but many of them did not run far before our bullets caught them. Different portions of the command came in by different streets and although the enemy kept up a desultory firing, we swept everything before us and in thirty minutes our regiment was in the Grand Plaza, and in an hour white flags were waving from every house that could raise even a clean shirt. Thus has our march from Vera Cruz been accomplished. The loss to the whole command has been trifling in numbers, but the loss of the gallant Walker will be deeply felt in the army. He was as brave a man as ever breathed, and a gentleman. His daring bravery cost him his life and our army one of its most efficient members and brightest ornaments. He recruited his company in Baltimore himself, all of whom are fine, daring fellows; each one when mounted is equal to ten Mexicans. They feel his loss deeply and appear like a family of children bereft of a father. He was very kind to his men and they almost worshiped him.

The garrison of Col. Childs was getting straitened when we arrived; they had lived some days on horse flesh and short allowance of bread. You never saw such joy

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manifested as when they were relieved, and before our troops were fairly in quarters we were called out to suppress pillage and robbery and murder. The troops that had been so long cooped up and nearly starved got into the streets and aided by many of the regulars with us, commenced breaking upon stores and houses and watching at the corners for Mexicans, whom they would shoot down, armed or not. To the credit of the Volunteers, they had nothing to do with it. I have not seen in the guardhouse here but two or three of the Ohio boys and one Indianian, Gen. Lane speaks in the highest terms of our regiment, both for discipline and courage, and they deserve it. The grand difference, however, between regulars and volunteers is their officers. The regular officers do not exert any moral influence over their men; they obey them from fear, while our volunteers follow the lead of their officers from pride and respect to those whom they themselves have placed over them. Besides that the regulars are the lowest part of our population(generally speaking) a great proportion of them Irish and Dutch, without character or friends. They fight because they are trained to it and because it is death to run. The volunteers are mostly those who came because their country demanded their services and they fight from pride and real courage, and are orderly because they mostly possess character.

Order is restored in the city; our guards and the city police (Mexicans) keep things quiet, and the shops and stores are being opened and business will soon be going on as usual. This morning I saw the scavengers cleaning the streets with their carts, and many of the shop windows filled with tempting finery. Occasionally we have an alarm as the guerillas and lancers are still lurking around the outskirts of the city, but they are soon driven off. I verily believe they are the greatest cowards on earth; they will not fight unless ten times the number of us and then not long at a time.

This is a fine city and contains many magnificent churches and other buildings

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and nothing shows the ravages of war. Our troops are forbidden to harm anything but armed Mexicans and a complaint from a Mexican citizen is inquired into as scrupulously lously as from an American. The city contains in a time of peace 80,000 inhabitants and is nearly as large as Cincinnati, though more people live in the same space here than in our country. Today the markets opened and are filled with country people with everything you can think of. All kinds of fresh meat except pork, fruit of every kind and in great abundance, apples, peaches, pears, oranges, etc., and both Irish and sweet potatoes, very large and fine. Pork's scarce, and butter they cannot make fit to eat; their milk is not good. Green corn is here all the year around; they plant it any time and we see it in all stages of growth in the same field.

We have been thirty days in marching from Vera Cruz and it has rained more or less every day. Some days we would march ten, some fifteen, and some twenty miles and failing to reach shelter, encamped in the road, wet and cold, where there was not a stick of wood to cook with, and thus have we spent many a night since we commenced the march. Our train of wagons was about two miles in length and when the wagons belonged to us were in the rear and we in front, we would lay down in the rain or stand up and sleep, without a mouthful to eat, until morning. I have slept at least twenty nights with my saddle for a pillow, sometimes with a blanket over me and sometimes without anything; holding my horse by the bridle over my arm or around my foot, because there was not a shrub to tie him to. Through all this the men have had first rate health and have gone on without a murmur. The Mexicans themselves begin to think it is no use fighting men who will endure so much and fight so hard and then leave all they conquer in the possession of the enemy, for nothing is taken without pay except government property. I begin to think that they will fight us always while we thus make it an object for them to do it, for they are absolutely making money out of it. We took some prisoners at Huamantle, a Col. and a Major, both of whom appear to be intelligent men; their opinion is that there will

-- 34 --

seen be peace. They say they cannot fight us and that whenever we get tired of
this kind of warfare, and live, off them, that they must yield. One thing is
certain, they cannot fight a general battle again, for Santa Anna's army has all left
him but the lancers, and we have all their artillery. The whole country from Mexico
City to Vera Cruz is in our possession, and some eight thousand more troops on the
road. They must soon yield or they are the most infatuated people on earth,
downright fools. However, it is natural they should hold out for their country,
beautiful as it is, and it is just as natural that I should wish them to make peace,
for I want to come home, and my faith is still strong that I shall embrace you and
my children again, though how soon I know not. You may know more about that than I
do, and probably do.

I do not know and cannot find out when we leave for the City of Mexico or whether we
are going at all, but we shall probably stay here for a month or two at least, unless
sooner ordered on by Genl. Scott. From the best information I can get no troops
are to pass here until further orders. This does not look as though Scott was in
need of men, but it leads me to think there is some prospect of his making a peace
with the Mexican Congress which is now in session. At any rate, Genl. Lane will
communicate with him by some means, and we will either go on or garrison this place.
If any of Lane's command goes on it will be so, for Gorman has great influence with
him and since we have got so far we all want to see the City. I would like to see
it peacably if I could, but forcibly if we must.

Tell Jo Hall I am satisfied of one thing, that is that I will fight, for amid two
showers of balls and one of cannon I did not feel an emotion of fear, but felt
anxious to get to close quarters. At Wah-man-cla the firing commenced before we got
within musket shot, and while we were getting over the ground that intervened I
trambled a little and my nerves shook from excitement, and perhaps fear, but after

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we got where our muskets would tell I was as calm as an old soldier. They love to
shoot officers and particularly those who are mounted, but strange to say, I never
thought of that until it was all over. I don't think I was ever intended for a
soldier, but I am satisfied I am not a coward.

My duties as Adjutant are somewhat arduous, but I love to by busy and as it gets
me a little better rank and pay, I am willing to do the duty. The former Adjutant
resigned to avoid being removed for incapacity; though a clever man he was too slow,
too easy and could not do the writing nor the duty of an Adjutant in the field. I
have the good opinion of the Col., the Lieut. Col., Major and most of the company
officers, except those of Company A, but that is more than compensated by the change
in the men. I believe seven-eighths of the company would vote for me for Captain;
some of them threatened to desert if I accepted the post of Adjutant. The men all
despise Cary and so do all the officers than know him, however, I get along smoothly;
my duty brings me in contact with all the officers and I am required to cultivate
good feelings and harmonious actions with all. But, Lord, there are some prodigious
mean men here.

There is nothing about which I could write you with so much pleasure as the prospect
of peace and my return, but we are all in the dark here, no one knows anything;
there is no way of communication between here and any place, only through Mexican
express riders who are hired at such extravagant prices as to make them faithful.
But very little of what goes on between commanders leaks out and so we really know
just nothing. I think intelligence is expected from Genl. Scott and if it is
anything important we may hear it. Oh, if I could only write you that peace is made
and in a few months I should return, what a happiness it would be. One thing is
assured of, when the year is up I am coming home if I live; that is all I agreed to
do and all I will do. I shall come home if I have to resign, though before that

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time millions would not tempt me to do it. John Wallace has ruined himself in the estimation of all in the regiment.

I visited the largest and most splendid church in the city today and saw the poor infatuated dupes at their devotions. My attention was soon drawn from them to the splendor and magnificence around. You can imagine something of it when I tell you that upon the inside of this church they have expended five millions of dollars. The body of the church is one lofty aisle, the roof and dome supported by carved columns reaching from the floor to the top, and inlaid with gold, silver and precious stones, then the altar, the confessional, the choir and organ are gorgeous and rich beyond expression; the whole is filled with fine paintings a century old, representing the birth, life and death of our Saviour, images of the Virgin Mary and our Saviour in silver and gold, before which they prostrate themselves and mumble over their prayers, and then go out and steal something or kill somebody. They have many fine churches in the city, all of which I believe are uninjured. Large marble slabs are scattered around forming part of the floor, under which is deposited the bodies of the bishops and their names and death engraved upon it. The streets are paved with flat stones and in no place in the city can you see the ground. The buildings around the Plaza and fronting it on four sides, are fine; the other streets are narrow and some quite dark. I shall have leisure and I mean to visit everything worth seeing in the city. The paintings particularly, in their churches, are well worth seeing. How I wish I could have you on my arm, but then I should want the church in some other country.

Oct. 16th. I have just learned that a Mexican will go through to Vera Cruz provided we pay him well, and the General is going to send him if the officers who wish to send letters will pay a portion of the expense. We are all in for it and he will

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start immediately. This is a precarious way of sending letters, but any way so that you get them, at whatever expense. I know how anxious you are to hear from me, and God only knows how I want to hear from you. We hope to get a mail by General Cushing who is expected in about a week. I think we shall stay here some time and perhaps go no further. Everything is peaceable here how and nothing more is heard of Santa Anna. The general opinion is that he is making his way to the coast to escape to Havana. I think it quite likely, as he cannot raise force enough to fight us, nor Cushing.

Puebla, Oct. 24th, 1847.

Dear Eliza: The Mexican express by which I sent my last letter was beaten back by the guerillas, and my letter is consequently still here. The express consists of a company of Mexican lancers in the employ of Genl. Scott, numbering 100, commanded by a Mexican Col. Somebody. They were bearing dispatches from Scott to Veracruz Vera Cruz, were attacked by a large party of guerillas and though they fought gallantly were beaten back to the city. They leave again tomorrow escorted by the Pennsylvania regt. Col. Wyncoop, and perhaps our regt. through the section infested by guerillas. some twenty miles. So that all my letters from here will come at once. I wrote you and Sweetser an account of our battle and enclosed them to Stebbins.

We have news or rumors of the willingness of the Mexican Congress now in session to make peace, and the readiness of Mexicans to join our standards is a good omen.

Besides the lancers we have a company of Mexicans here who act as spies upon the enemy and render great service in ferreting out their places of retreat, and they fight well too under our flag, generally whipping three times their number of Mexicans.

Our recent trip to Atalixco was productive of much pleasure. We passed through some of the richest country of Mexico, fine gardens, cultivated fields and beautiful groves, all scattered over an immense valley surrounded by mountains covered with snow. In the center of this valley was once the city of Chelula; it

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contained 400,000 inhabitants at the time of the Spanish conquest and was destroyed by
Certez for treachery on the part of its people. The churches and temples which were
built of solid stone are all that remain of the magnificent city and are to be seen
for miles in every direction, showing the vast extent of this city, once the pride of
the Aztecs. One great curiosity, which is visited by travelers and described by
historians, I had the pleasure of seeing, viz: the "temple of the Sun", which is
built upon the top of an artificial mound 200 feet high and accessible to
horsemen by circular stone steps, to the door of the temple on top. I could not
resist the inclination to go up and persuading two or three officers, we rode up. The
church or chapel, and an adjoining house is all that remain, but the interior of them
is in the same style of gorgeous splendor as all the ancient churches. From the top
we had the most delightful view I ever beheld. The valley appeared circular, hemmed
in by high mountains, about whose white summit fleecy clouds hung in every imaginable
array. The valley presented every color of vegetation, from the springing seed to
ripening grain and is laid out for miles in squares by the gardener and agriculturist.
We were well repaid for the ascent by the beautiful view, as well as the hospitable
and courteous treatment of the family who live there, I suppose to take care of the
chapel. We were shown into the temple and conducted by another stair to the top of
it, where the view was better still, and from whence our army winding through the
streets below looked like an army of Lilliputians. After partaking of a cup of
chocolate, the universal beverage offered to guests, we took our leave reluctantly, for
I would like to have stayed there all day, but our army had passed, and we were too old
to be caught looking at curiosities. The country is full of old castles and ruined
churches, whose crumbling walls bear testimony to their original splendor. This
might be called in our language "the bell". La Belle City, for never did mortal ears
hear such an eternal clattering of bells. I believe there are 100 churches, each of

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which has a chime of from ten to twenty bells, and with their regular masses and church services, the mass for the dead, and ringing sinners out of pergatery, they keep up a constant clatter. When they are all going, and that is quite often, you cannot hear your own voice in the streets. One chime at once is musical, but altogether and so much, they are a nuisance. There must be at least five thousand priests, fathers and brothers of the various orders, including of course none but those who officiate. This will give you an idea of their vast church establishments. They are all wealthy, and draw from the poor dupes of hypocritical pretensions still larger accesses to their great wealth. The priests go about in large flowing black gowns, with broad rimmed black hats looped up at the sides, which gives them a rakish look (a true index I think). The people take off their hats when they pass or kneel down. The church and convent in which we are quartered is the "St.Augustin". The priests are doomed to celibacy, but unless common report belie them, they make up for it. At any rate they live on the fat of the land and their churches are the most splendid things imaginable, poor signs of a like of abstemiousness and self-denial. The priests of this order have a circular place on the top of their heard shaved, and the boys denominate them "shave-pates".

We live very well, though it is expensive; all kinds of fruit and fresh meats are abundant, but milk and butter are not to be expected had, except that of goats; the milk is good but the butter is strong and bad, besides it costs from fifty cents to a dollar a pound.

I neglected to mention one thing which gives a picturesque appearance to all the rural scenes here, and that is the absence of fences and the substitution of hedges of the Maguay or century plant. They keep it about four feet high, it is always green and looks beautiful, particularly at a distance. It grows at the bottom as large as a man's body and runs to a point as sharp as a pin, sufficiently strong to run through an ox. As a fence it is used universally and is impenetrable.

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Green apples, corn, peaches, oranges, etc. they have the whole year, as well
as ripe; everything is constantly sprouting, growing and ripening. Instead of ice
they bring snow from the mountains out of which they contrive to make ice cream and
other delicacies. Mexican women beat the world at making cake and rich things; a
cake as large as my head will possess no conceivable weight and a piece squeezed in
the hand will expand like a sponge upon relaxing the pressure. I have not yet seen
any who deserve to be cabled beautiful, though many of the higher classes are
graceful, dignified, modest and (I suppose) intelligent. The common and middle
classes of women are slovenly and dirty, generally scratching their heads, though, by
the way, the whole nation are lousy. The women wear no bonnets, but a shawl around
their shoulders and head, under which when it is warm can be seen the ends of the
sleeves, the dress being fastened at the waist and the bodice hanging down.
The rainy season is about over here, today being the first rainy day for two weeks.
It is healthy here, though the recent hard marching of our troops has given us a
large sick list. This morning's report shows 65 on the sick list in our regiment, and
six officers; mostly from over fatigue and exposure in the late marches and battles.
But one man has died in the regiment since we arrived here and he was an old man and
run to death. When we arrived here many were without shoes, lost and worn out.
Before they could be gotten we were called on to go out after the enemy and so anxious
were our boys to go that 100 went barefoot, marching twenty miles a day without
murmuring, though some left their tracks marked with blood. Such men cannot be whipped.

Puebla, Oct. 22nd, 1847.

Dear Eliza: The band is just playing tattoo, sending all in this vast building to
rest, but finding a light upon my table and comparative quiet around I cannot resist
the inclination to write a while, particularly as I learn a mail will leave for Vera
Cruz in a few days.

Since I wrote you by the Mexican express we have seen some

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hard service but no fighting, nor are we likely to so long as the enemy retain the power to "git out of the way" with such alacrity. Gen. Lane is quite anxious to distinguish himself and his command, and lets no opportunity pass to offer the Mexicans fight in any place we can find them.

On the 19th Gen. Lane with our regiment, the Ohio and two hundred horse, started for Atalixco (pronounced Clees-co), where it was reported Gen. Rea had six thousand men. We marched the whole distance and the cavalry which was in front fought the advance of the Mexicans a running fight for four miles. When about four miles from Atalixco we met about six hundred horse and infantry who were formed in our front as if to dispute the way. The cavalry which in the fight did not exceed 150, were ordered to coax them to fight until our infantry could be brought up, but at the first charge of our 150 horsemen the cowardly rascals took to their scrapers, intending to draw our men beyond supporting distance and then flog them, but we were all put upon a run, and so <u>amphibious</u> were our men to get a fight that they kept within sight, although the cavalry were at a hard run. Several times the Mexicans formed and showed a disposition to fight, but when our cavalry would charge them, away they went, and so our boys fought them all the way to town. The infantry, though they secured the victory to the cavalry, did no fighting. The Mexicans did not stop in town, but when we arrived after dark we were marchedboldly into the place and found excellent quarters. Gen. Rea with his whole force had "vamosado." After destroying whatever of public property could be found we started back the next morning, and as we came along I rode over the ground where the fighting had been done. For miles on either side the road the ground was covered with dead and dying Mexicans; I never saw such a sight and was never so affected. At Huamantla I saw the same thing, but I was engaged in that and, mad and excited as I was then, the sight did not affect me like this. There was but few of all I saw wounded; most of them were shot dead through

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the head or nearly beheaded with the sword, telling of the unerring aim of our
Mounted Riflemen. But you perhaps will not like this subject. All I have to say for
them is this,— they will not fight us unless they can catch us where they have ten to
one, and then they'll run the first fire. The country is getting clearer of them
about here, as the vigilance of our pickets and our prompt quick movements render the
little villages about here unsafe for them. There is but little for the Infantry to
do except to guard, and chase the Mexicans, and when Hays arrives we shall be
relieved of the latter duty. He will bring six hundred cavalry and that, with what
is here, will drive every armed Mexican within 100 miles.

This place is now perfectly quiet and everything goes off as though no enemy were here
The stores and shops and markets are all open, and the busy thronged streets and
peaceful intercourse of Americans and Mexicans, give no indications of two powerful
nations at war. Nothing but our uniforms and patrols and guards around the city
show any sign of war. The people here do not sympathise with the Mexican army nor
government; they had much rather we were here than they. The wish for peace is fast
becoming universal among all classes, and if it were not for the influence of their
beggarly officers, who want employment, they would make peace tomorrow. However,
their army is broken and dispersed and I cannot see how they are to raise or subsist
one capable of encountering our forces in any one place.

Today I had the pleasure of reading one of your letters written in June last. A small
bag of mazhu mail was mislaid at Vera Cruz and not opened until today. Although old
I read it with real pleasure as it contained your thoughts, your fears, and it
seemed as though I was conversing with you. I wish I could have one every day, but
the old ones must do until I get a new one, about two weeks. Genl. Cushing left Vera
Cruz on the 16th inst. and will be here in two weeks, then for a good long letter;
what a luxury it will be, unless it should contain bad news, then would I be miser-
able indeed. My only consolation is in believing that you and my children are well

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and comfortable at home,— what a blessed word. Oh, may God watch and guard you and my little ones, for unless you are spared I shall have no wish to return. I shall feel like a wanderer on earth, having cast myself from home, friends, by my own acts. But Oh, how sweet is hope.

Saturday night, Oct. 23rd.

This is a soft and beautiful moonlight night, and I have been walking about on the top of the convent watching the moon and stars and clouds until I grew grow homesick and retired to my only refuge, pen and paper. That same bright moon is shining upon you and bathing our little home in its mild beams, and how easy can I transport myself there in fancy and behold everything just as I left it. I can see every tree and shrub, yes almost every blade of grass, so strongly are they connected in memory with all I love and cherish on earth. You once feared I would change; yes, I may change, from life to death, from this world to another, and only then shall I cease to think of you with as warm and fervent a love as ever I professed. Words are poor things to express the longing anxious desire I feel to see you, to be near you, and to cherish you forever in my very heart of hearts. Here there is none to sympathize with me, none to whom I can pour out the secret longings of my soul, for most of those who are in my situation and who should sympathize with me, have forgotten their wives and children in their dreams of glory or of ambition, and have become slaves to all manner of vice; and the young fellows are too much taken up with their pleasures and duties and gay trappings, to bestow a serious thought upon home or friends. Alone I think of you, alone I thus commune with you, and it must be my solace until kind Heaven brings me back like a dove to its mate. Then only shall I think and feel and act as of old, for I am not myself, there is but half of me here, the gentler half being absent. I am at the mercy of every wild passion that this life engenders, but the memory of that kind and gentle being in whom all my hopes are centered, shall shield me from temptation and wrong.

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Puebla, Mexico, Nov. 3rd, 1947

Dear Eliza:

There is a prospect to send letters in a few days by a train from the City with the sick and wounded of Genl. Scott's army. Some of our officers will also return, and some discharged soldiers. My duties, though somewhat arduous in garrison, leave me some leisure every day, and there is no way in which I so much love to employ it as in writing to you. In vain I try to employ terms which will convey to you the anxious agonizing desire I feel to see you, to be with you and to administer to your happiness. I think of you, until the impossibility of going immediately seems at war with the volition of a freeman and I almost curse myself for the folly that separated me from all that can ever make me happy in this world. Long indulgence in thoughts of you and home has become painful and I fly to active duties for relief from thoughts which urge me to brave dishonor and everything else to be happy with you.

At all other times I am cheerful and do all that is required of me with alacrity and good nature. If I were to leave here now and go home, happy as we should be, it would not last, I could not respect myself nor deserve your love as though I stayed and discharged my duty. My happiness, and yours to some extent, depends upon my life; this I have perilled already, probably as much as I shall, for we shall have no more battles and we have passed through the sickly country and sickly season; and now, since I have risked so much to secure an honorable return to you, I shall wait with patience until the expiration of the year, at the end of which I can return with joy all unsullied and honor unblemished; not even liable to the aspersions of the envious here or the cowardly secret enemy at home. When you read this the year will be more than half gone, and how quickly has it fled. The other half will fly as quickly and the same power that has preserved me thus far can keep me through greater dangers and bring me back to your embrace.

To your prayers and the interest which

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Kind Heaven shows for the happiness of the innocent and good, do I attribute my safe conduct through the dangers already passed, and upon the love which all good beings must cherish for you do I found my hope of a return. Then cheer up my, dear, dear wife and practice the philosophy which your religion teaches. I say yours because alas, I have none, yet am I a better man than when I left home. You are better, far better than I am and you should hope always, hope forever, and for all good.

Since I wrote you we have fought one battle with the enemy twenty miles from here, killing 220 of them and losing one man killed and two wounded. We have secured the whole country within twenty-five miles and driven off the Mexicans from every village where they used to harbor. Gen. Lane is very anxious to do something and since the Mexicans will not give him a fight he is determined to clear them out from this part of the country. Our men have been kept busy in these scouts and now, when they have only been in quarters two days, two hundred of them are ordered on an expedition tomorrow morning with five days rations. I have been with them in every case, although my duty is at headquarters. This time I think I will not go as they are going to meet the train from Scott and there is no prospect of a fight.

Thursday, Nov. 4th.

A part of the train from Scott entered the city last night, the rest will arrive today, and all of it leaves tomorrow. Today I am on guard, have the monthly returns of the regiment to make out and my letters to finish so that I cannot write a very long letter this time. I have commenced a letter to Harrison which I must finish also. There is no more actual news; rumors are rife that the new President and a majority of the congress are in favor of peace, but we know nothing of the truth of it. Much as I have thought they would make peace, my present opinion is that it will not be accomplished before our congress sits. The terms now asked by our government are rather too much for the Mexicans to grant, but I think our congress will either make better terms for them, or adopt Calhoun's policy; withdraw our armies to the line

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claimed by us and occupy it. In either case peace will hardly be made under a year from the time we started and at that time I am coming home anyhow, if I live, so that it makes but little difference to me what they do. The Mexicans have no army, or money to subsist one, and they are so divided upon the question of peace that they cannot accomplish anything. We shall have no fighting except it may be when we surprise some party of lancers or guerillas in their haunts. It is not believed by any of the intelligent Mexicans here that they can raise an army at all. Our regiment did not go out this morning, as the arrival of the train rendered it unnecessary. I think, from all that I can learn, that our regiment will either go on to the City of Mexico or be stationed here or within twenty miles of here. Twenty miles from here is Atalixco, the scene of one of our late battles. Gen. Lane will look at it and if necessary, garrison it. Should that be done our regiment will go there or to the City of Mexico in good health with the exception of the mumps; some of them have it and some severely. It seems as if they were fated to catch every contagious disease. The most of those we have lost was caused primarily by the measles and I suppose some will die from the mumps. Notwithstanding we have had a good deal of trouble, we have always turned out more men and officers for duty than any regiment in Mexico. This is a fact. My health is still good and I have taken but one dose of medicine since we left Mier. I have a good bed in my office in quarters and board at an eating house close by. I get very good living at a cost of about three dollars a week. I get beef, chicken, eggs, potatoes, fruit, tomatoes, coffee and chocolate. I have taught them to cook tomatoes right.

1 o'clock. I have just returned from a pageant of the guard to receive the advance of the train. Among the officers wounded I noticed Gen. Shields; he is a fine looking man and as he sprang from the carriage, bared his head and marched in front of the

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guard I could not but notice his fine military bearing, contrasting so vividly with
that of many of our dull volunteer generals. I did not stay to be introduced to any
of them but hurried back to my letters. In two hours we have to parade again to
receive Col. Harney and his Dragoons who are to escort the train. There are 400
wagons in the train so that you can judge of the number of sick, wounded and discharged
going home, and of the quantity of provisions they will bring back. They leave
positively in the morning.

Moses Connor is discharged and goes home, if he
lives to get there. The Major of our regiment, McCoy, will die in a short time of
consumption; he will try to go home. Two other officers of the regiment go, Capt.
Cochran of Terre Haute and Lieut. Cole, the former Adjutant.

The train from Vera Cruz, under Gen. Patterson and Cushing, did not leave there until
the 28th October, so that they will not be here for ten days or two weeks. Well, the
later they left there the more letters will get. In two weeks after they arrive
this train will return and I am happy in anticipating many a good long letter from
you within the next month. My whole life has passed in thinking of you, anticipating
letters and believing you are well. If it were not for the consolation these thoughts
give me I should perhaps be wretched indeed. But I must to my work. I will write
more tonight.

Evening, Nov. 4th, 1847.

Dear Eliza: After a very hard day's work I again sit down to write you. I could
not bear to send you one sheet, though I fear I shall not be able to fill another very
interestingly. I judge you by myself, when I think you love long letters; no matter
how uninteresting they may be to others. I know you will love to read them for my sake.
Nothing in this world, except your presence, gives me so much pleasure as your letters,
and long before you get this I shall receive some from you, and I trust long ones too.
Well, the long train has all gotten in, numbering 600 wagons, and it is to return in

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a month. Among the officers returning are C. M. Clay, Maj. Borland and Capt. Heady, who, you recollect, were so long prisoners. They have had a hard time and done but little service. There is a great number of officers going home, some sick, others wounded, on leave of absence and some resigned. Many of the soldiers are discharged and but few of them wounded. Scott has discharged a good many who were but little sick or slightly wounded, generally because of their good conduct during the battles. Sometimes I wish I were going home with them, but I could not go now as they go; they have all been out a year, many of them more and have seen hard service. All of them have earned the reward they go to claim, to meet their friends, fathers, mothers, wives and children. Well, if kind heaven keeps me safe another half year I too will claim a reward dearer to me than all worldly recompense. When I think of my return I fancy no change in you or Mother; I see you still the same, and love to think you look just as I left you; but my children will be changed. I cannot think just how they will look, but they are too young for grief to hurt either their looks or happiness, so that they will be beautiful as they were, and growing up virtuous and good as their Mother and Grandmother. How often I think of Mother as I lay down in my solitary bed with nothing to do but think; for I do not fall asleep as easily as I used to at home. I can still see Mother sitting or walking, and after wondering or talking about me I can almost hear her sigh as she concluded I will come home some day, or something else to cheer you. I can see the pigs run about and hear the chickens crow and the cow lowing, and among them all the voice of Mother going quietly about ministering to their wants. Somehow I always had a poor way of showing it, but I love her more than anyone else except yourself. All this is just a little of my thoughts, mixed up with early and tender memories, in which you are before me sleeping or waking. When you read this it will be winter and you will feel cold and cheerless as the wintry winds blow around our little dwelling, but the snow will

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vanish in good time, the cold winds will give place to warm breezes, the roses will
bloom again and then, Heaven prospering me, I will be with you. The roses must not
die on your cheek; you must keep them with your house plants, for unless you preserve
your health my return will fail to make me happy. You must not make yourself sick
when letters fail to come and fancy that I am sick or dead, but remember that it is
seldom we get an opportunity to send them and I shall always write whenever there is
an opportunity.

Well, I have seen a great deal of Mexican life since I have been here, and am no more
enamored of it than when I wrote you last. The restoration of quiet and business to
the citizens has brought out all the wealth and beauty of the City, and occasionally
can be seen gay equipages and richly dressed women, but the beauty I have heard of
and looked for is not to be found. Ladies dress much like ours at home, the dresses
are cut the same and conceal fully as large bustles as the most as--piring of our
ladies. They wear no bonnets but large shawls falling from the hear o'er the
shoulders and waist. The first of this month was "all Saints' day" and a great day
it was. The churches were open all day and crowds of finely dressed men and women
thronged the streets, so that it was impossible to get along on the sidewalks; we
had to mount our horses and take the streets. I noticed many of the higher order of
females, and though I cannot admit them handsome or beautiful, there is a grace about
their slight forms and a look of intelligence in their clear black eyes and their
Grecian features that makes them interesting. I saw none of them very richly dressed;
yet in good taste; dresses of damask and purple silk velvet fitting closely, and
veils instead of shawls thrown over their heads, made of the most costly fabrics and
edged with gold and pearls. They have shocking big ankles, but tiny feet and
handsome, slender forms. On that night they have a festival. The sixam streets were
brilliantly lighted and everybody seemed destined for fun and frolic. I saw many

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drunk, of both sexes, and it was disgusting to witness the prostitution of the lower order of females. The priests went about that night praying the devil out of the houses he was supposed to inhabit; they were preceded by a troop of boys fantastically dressed and bearing lights on long poles, and when the priest had intimated to his Majesty that he must vacate, and got his fee, these boys would raise a shout in their infernal jargon enough to frighten the Devil himself.

Many of our officers are learning to speak Spanish well; I pick up a little now and then, but do not have time to study much. I have got so I can read it quite well, but cannot talk much beyond my wants.

My duties as Adjutant are arduous, but it is all in the house; I have no duty in the company nor do I have to stand guard or anything which breaks my rest while in quarters. The Adjutant is a kind of clerk in one way; he keeps the regimental books, consolidates the morning reports of the companies, makes monthly returns to the War Department of the regiment, warns officers for duty on picket or guard and commands at guard mounting, review and dress parade. Guards are mounted every morning and we have a dress parade every evening at sunset. The Adjutant belongs to the Colonel's staff and is entitled to good quarters when they are to be had. My pay is a little better than a Captain and I have a horse, so that I get along much easier than a company officer. The Adjutant's is a very responsible post, and if well filled gives him the respect of both officers and soldiers. I have the satisfaction of knowing that I possess the good opinion and friendly feelings of the field officers and the company officers and men. If Wallace resigns, Company A wish me to be Captain, but I think I shall not be in. I told some of them the other day that when I wished to be Captain it was doubtful if they would do it; now I could do better. But perhaps Wallace will return. Carey is very much disliked in the company and by all the officers in the regiment. His little mean spirit and his niggardly course have gained him the

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contempt of all. It is very common to hear officers speak of "that d--d feel, Carey".
Oliver Carey is the most homesick man in the regiment, though if he could get an office
or make money in any way, he would be the last man to want to go home. He is most
dead for an office as his mean, envious spirit cannot bear to see so many above him.
He hates me most cordially, yet is as friendly as a brother. The boys do not like
him and they would sooner elect any other man in the company to an office than
him. He is well and I think a little better contended than he has been. He is quite
anxious to pick up any little valuable that he can lay hands on to carry home, and
there is no doubt he will get plenty, as they is enough to steal and sell that they
steal.

Tell the rest of the widows in Marion that their husbands are well and I know of none
from Marion who are sick. Tell Jo Hall that I have smelt powder and heard balls
whistled whistle whistle and seen men fall, and I did not think of running, so I think there
may be something in me, after all my doubts of my courage. Remember me to all in
the county, Grandfather, Grandmother, Lenox, Mary, Lois, Mr. Hawes and anyone else
that inquires for me. There is no more news of peace and we now look for neither
peace nor war, as the Mexicans cannot raise an army to fight us nor a congress to
make peace, so that we shall have to practice a masterly inactivity to keep our
blood in circulation and earn our pay. I'll write you again by the first opportunity.
Give my love to Mother and kiss the children for me. Yours as ever. John.

If you get that money from Sweetser, I wish you would send to Robert Brown's wife
ten or fifteen dollars, say fifteen. He will pay it to me here, but has no way to send
it home. If she does not get a letter from him, he is well and hearty and as cheerful
as any of us. We have lost none in our company since the death of Harlan. All of
the boys from there are well, I believe.

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Puebla,Mexico,Nov.28th,1947.

Dear Elizak-
Once more I sit down to the delightful task of writing you;
delightful because it will add to your happiness and relieve you of the many doubts
and fears that have taken possession of your mind in regard to my health and safety.
In the long interval which has passed, without the opportunity of sending letters, I
have pictured to myself the uneasiness which you would feel and the ten thousand
reasons which your fears would assign for my silence, all ending in my sickness or
death. All this I know you have felt, notwithstanding I told you in my last letter
that a long time might elapse before I could write again. I love to write you
because it is an occupation which interests me and because I love to relieve a solici-
tude which arises from a feeling so dear to me. First, I must tell you that I am not
only in good health, but, as I promised, am getting fast quite fleshy. I have not been
sick a day since I wrote you and never enjoyed better health than at present.

We are still in Pueblo and the prospect is that we go on to the City in about ten days
or two weeks. Since my last letter we have been out on two expeditions in which we
ran off the Mexicans, killing a few of them and breaking up their nests and destroy-
ing their arms, etc. In the last we lost one Lieutenant killed and two privates,
killing eighty of the Mexicans. About two weeks since, Col. Hays arrived with three
hundred of his Texas Rangers, and since then the Infantry have had nothing to do but
drill and eat their rations. These Rangers, who are mounted, with the Cavalry here
scour the country in all directions and frequently run the Mexicans for miles before
they catch any of them. They kill all they catch and take few prisoners. The train
under Gen. Patterson was compelled to return from Jalapa to Vera Cruz for provisions
and will not be here for a week, when we shall receive the long expected letters.
The arrival of the train is the universal topic of conversation among the officers.
Col. Hays told me there were three wagon loads of mail, and you can imagine what our
feelings are with this pile of letters so near us. We all hope for good news, and

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Heaven send it may be so. I cannot hope to hear from you much later by this mail than I have heard, yet I long as anxiously for these letters as you do for mine, but I do not fear so much, I hope for everything. God knows it is my only solace to believe you are alive and well, and next to you the children and Mother. If this were taken from me, if I could not believe this, I should be a wretched fellow; but should I should care for nothing in this world and never should think of the chances of life or death as I now do whenever we are ordered out to meet the enemy. In short, the happiness I anticipate makes me contented and willing to wait until I can come to you honorably, and how immeasurably will such a return increase the happiness to be enjoyed with you. There are other married men here with whom I sit down occasionally and talk over these things, and all the men who are winning a reputation here are of the same feeling. They want to be with their wives and children, but there is a shrinking from going until they shall have been in the service long enough to go honorably.

The Major of our regiment, an excellent man, McCoy, has been sick for two months and we all thought he would die, and when he got a little better we urged him to take a furlough and go home, but he will not until he has rendered his country some service. This is one instance of the feeling among men, and how much more is one such man worth than ten thousand of these impulsive beings who forget you today and love you to death tomorrow, whose course is as uncertain as the wind and who profess on fixed principles or stability of character. Do not forget me nor wear yourself from loving me because I am absent so long of my own will, for under this sense of duty and honor which keeps me away is a current of warm, deep, affectionate regard, as strong as was ever cherished by man for woman and which, were it not that I might be worthy of you, would have borne me to your arms long since, I cannot help repeating these thoughts to you, yet I feel how impossible it is to express in words the deep, fervent yearning of my heart for you and my children.

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Well, I have moved since I wrote you, to a suite of splendid apartments with the Col., who has also been quite sick, but is better. I live with the Colonel and we have rather a pleasant military family. My duties are more active than formerly, owing to the sickness of the Col. and Major, as I have drilled the regiment for the last week every day. The Lt. Col. is a very clever man, but is not a military man and cannot drill, a thing which is strictly enjoined upon raw troops in garrison. I have got quite a reputation as a drill officer and intend to keep it up. I have to write about half the day, the balance of the time I read, drill and perform the other duties of Adjutant. The duties are hard, but if well performed, will win for a man the respect of all; next to the Col., the Adjutant is the most useful and conspicuous man in a regiment. I have a horse, saddle and bridle taken from a Mexican Colonel killed at the taking of Clascalli ( we have been there twice). I did not kill him, nor anyone else that I know of, but I have his trappings. The horse is a pretty little fellow ( their horses are all small) and I intend to bring him home with me. Quite a curiosity he would be in Indiana.

But I must tell you of the probabilities of peace. The recall of Mr. Trist is not considered as unfavorable to peace, nor the new policy which we understand is to be adopted towards the Mexicans. It is understood here with Genl. Scott is ordered to occupy the whole country, to levy contributions for the support of our army and to make no more propositions for peace. This will bring them to terms or make them use all their energies to raise men and money to carry on the war. In either case we must have peace soon. Our government will accept any fair proposal of peace from them, and if they undertake to fight us they will soon be used up completely. Besides the troops already in the country there is sixteen thousand coming and to arrive. To support this large force will tax them so heavily that their people will not bear it long; and they cannot fight us, that is out of the question. Our government is

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taking the proper course and the war will not last long when they have the whole
expense to bear. Everybody here is in favor of peace and it is believed that the
congress now in session here is in favor of it, but we know nothing certain. If they
do not do something speedily Genl. Scott will march upon their new seat of government
and occupy all the cities in the southern and western departments. Taylor's army
will come through to San Luis Potosi and the whole country will be in our possession.
I think they will make such a proposal for peace as will be accepted by our government
before all this is done, but if they do not the war will result in their dismember-
ment as a nation and their final annexation to our country. Opinions upon peace are
all speculation and one man's opinion is about as good as another's. Let this be
as it may; I have fulfilled my promise at the end of a year and then I am coming home
anyhow if the war lasts for a century. Mr. Trist is expected here tomorrow on his
way home and I expect to send this by him, and perhaps we may know something more
about peace and our forward movement. I want to see the City of Mexico since we are
so near it, but after that I cannot think of anything else to keep me here, and I
should be perfectly willing to turn round now and go home without seeing or "revelling
in the halls of the Montezuma!"

Tomorrow I will tell you something more of
Puebla and of the Mexicans, and perhaps the news by Trist from Mexico may be interest-
ing. It is very peaceable here now and the best feelings prevail everywhere towards
our people. The church, which exerts a powerful influence, is favorable to peace, and
will no doubt do much to promote it, as their revenues will be materially reduced by
the contributions to the support of our army. Good night.

Evening, Nov. 29th. Tomorrow and a half year has passed since I entered the service,
and we have been so constantly moving and in active service that the time has not
appeared long, much as I have been homesick and much as I longed for the time when I
could return. Do you receive this another moon will pass, leaving but five months

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to elapse before I shall be with you. I know that anything might happen in five
months, it is a long time to defer the fulfillment of kusamas, hopes so dear, yet
I have been preserved for half the year, and the same power holds my destiny for
the remainder. I begin to believe that my life is really necessary to your
happiness, for I am good for nothing that should have procured for me the continued
blessings of Heaven. I love to think that the prayers of an innocent and gentle
wife have followed me and called down the protection of Heaven which seems to
surround me. It is winter at home and I see you sitting comfortably around a
warm fire in our pleasant little home and when I think how you will miss me I almost
want to fly to you. How I used to abuse some fellows for their stay-at-home qualities
now I envy them the happiness they are enjoying, but perhaps they deserve it. One
thing they never will know, that we have learned out here,--how sweet a place home is;
they never can appreciate it who have never longed for it without avail.

Well, since I wrote you last I have become a little more acquainted with this
specimen of the "genus homo", and the more I know of them and see of them the less I
like them. There is occasionally a man of intelligence and character, but the mass
of them are a sputtering, bragging set who make great pretensions but never accomplish
anything. They are as weak in intellect as in physical force. The thinking for the
mass is done by the great men, and the labor for all is done by slaves or "peons",
the mixture of Spanish and Indian, who are held by a term of debt. They have a good
taste for beauty particularly in rural scenery, painting and sculpture. In the
center of the city is a fine garden, with a carriage drive around the edge about a
half mile long, and walks through the center, fountains playing and flowers blooming
in every direction. The wealthy go in their carriages, the bloods on their horses and
the poor and middle classes walk. It is a place where all go to see and be seen, just
as our folks go to church at home. I go there occasionally and enjoy it much.

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There is a theatre in operation but I have not visited it and do not think I shall.
Balls are frequent and I have attended one since I wrote you. They are fond of music
and dancing, but can do neither as well as us. I see no women whom I think handsome,
though many of our young fellows are extolling the beauty of some dusky sultana whom
they have seen. There are some with very intelligent faces and accomplished manners,
but I cannot think them beautiful or even handsome until they are whitewashed.

Puebla, Dec. 12th, 1847.

Dear Eliza: I received all your letters up to 25th October last week by Gen.
Patterson's train, and the joy I felt at knowing you were still alive and well could
only be excelled by that I should feel in seeing you. Your letters altogether make me
sad, for the great wish of your heart is urged with such affectionate entreaties and
finds so warm a response in my own wishes that it seems to me the necessity which
compels me to refuse to return immediately, compels a rudeness apparently incompatible
with true affection. Yet it is not so for if I did not love you as I do, if I did not
feel that that love placed me under obligations, I should not feel the struggle that
has been going on in my breast ever since I read your letters; and which has made me
more miserable than anything since I left home. Oh, God, that I should see the path
of duty to lay through the ruined happiness of those I love; if I have a heart, how
wretched must it be to know that in abandoning you for a time the joys of a happy
home I have not only sacrificed the dearest wishes of myself and the one I love best,
but placed beyond her control the happiness and destiny of that loved being. But is
this so? And forgive me if my conclusions make me the censor, for I would not chide
you even in love. You are a weak, loving, trusting woman, just as I would hope you
to be, but you are a sensible woman too, and in your more hopeful moments when your
affection for me and fear for my safety does not overcome every other consideration,
you are willing I should stay long enough at least to preserve the good name I had
before I came here. This is all I ask; I wish for no glory or fame, purchased by

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your sufferings, and I would rather fold you in my arms this moment and make you
happy than to command the armies of the world. I do not wish you to suffer as your
share of the consequences of our separation, but I would rather you would wait
patiently, hopefully, for my sake, than torture yourself by inordinate fears and thus
make my punishment greater. My dear wife, you must understand my motives; I could
not tell you all I feel on ten thousand pages, because I feel what I cannot tell, but
believe this,-- I am coming home as soon as I can honorably, in a year at farthest
from the time I left, perhaps sooner, and God in his providence spares my life so
necessary to you and my children.

One thing has transpired which renders my return easier, and it will astonish you.
Oliver is Captain of the company, elect, that is if Wallace resigns he will be
Captain. At first there was no one to run but Decatur and he was so unpopular that
the boys brought out Oliver against him. Up to that time I had said nothing about it;
I did not want to command the company for I had a better place, but all the best part
of the company were mad when Oliver was brought out, and I too thought it would not do,
Decatur was bad enough, without having Oliver to command the company. I did not want
to give up my place for one in the company, particularly as it would bind me to stay
here as long as the company did, however, at the solicitation of Pomeroy, Guenin,
Dillon and others whom I was instrumental in bringing here, I consented to run; and to
the astonishment of all and the great chagrin of the Colonel and other officers of
the regiment, Oliver was elected by four votes. I never was more delighted in my
life, for I felt acquitted of all obligations to the company and as though I had
escaped from a great evil. The election was illegal and the Colonel wished to set it
aside, but I would not let him. The boys, some twenty five or thirty of the best men
in the company petitioned the Colonel to be transferred to "a company commanded by an
officer and a gentleman". This made Oliver very mad and he laid it to my
influence, but I had nothing to do with it. I had nothing to do with the company

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for two months and scarcely ever spoke to anyone in it except Pomeroy who comes to my quarters often. Our two Careys are despised by the Colonel and all the officers and the best part of the men. Oliver's election was secured secretly by a union of his friends and Decatur's, united to Berry's, who has always disliked and envied me since I was appointed Adjutant. The best part of the joke is this; by the mail today we learn that Wallace has not resigned and the Col. cannot of course commission a new Captain. Oliver looks crestfallen and I enjoy it much. The new volunteer regiments from Indiana, Kentucky and Tennessee came in today and when I saw the toil-worn, embattled company officers who had walked the whole way, I thanked God for my escape. All the officers who rode look well, but half the company officers are sick, the balance lame, poor and weak, and no prospect of getting better,- the march is onward, and an order has recently been published by Gen. Scott requiring all company officers to go on foot with their companies. There will be no election for Captain until the Col. hears from Wallace, and then I shall not run if every man in the company wants me to; if it is possible I will try and elect Pomeroy or some other good officer over Oliver. I like my place very much, the duties are not so arduous as I learn them, by pay is one dollar per month more than that of Captain, and I always ride. I could not walk, and I believe that was all that ailed me at Mier, for ever since I began to ride my health has improved and yesterday I weighed ten pounds more than when we arrived at Puebla, just two months since. So you see I am getting fat, my health is excellent; indeed the boys who arrived today all remark upon our good looks and we upon their bad looks. E. Carey was in a wagon sick, he looks pale and thin, but is getting better. Perhaps he does not wish himself at home, but he doesn't complain. All of our boys are well and hearty except Guenin who is affected in the head; he will probably get a discharge if he does not get better soon. He is not dangerous; it is a kind of swelling that effects his hearing more than his health. Since my first date seven thousand troops have arrived and part gone on to Scott.

Gen. Lane stays here for the present and we are all well pleased with it. The Gen. is fast becoming a great favorite with all the officers and men who serve under him. An attempt was recently made to injure the General in the estimation of Gen. Scott, by some of the regular officers jealous of the laurels he has won while they have been idle, but it failed completely and the old fellow is loved better than ever by all hands. Col. Jack Hays was very much opposed to going on as he wished to remain under Gen. Lane. Gen. Butler arrived today and goes on in a few days to the City; the new Indiana regiment goes on with him. If we go to the City at all it will be within two or three weeks.

I got a favorable notice from the Colonel and Gen. to Gov. Whitcomb for a little affair outside the city the other morning, in which Lt. Col. Dumont, myself and eight Dragoons, ran off 40 of the guerillas that had attacked our pickets in the night. We killed two of them and captured several horses, guns, etc. These guerillas are great cowards. Two hundred of us went to Cholula last night to find some in their nest, but they probably had been warned for they had flown, so we lost a night's sleep for nothing. I tell you of all the places we go, not to boast of our doings or to make them greater, but to quiet your fears and that you may know all the actions in which I am engaged. I shall tell you all so that when you see accounts of any engagement by Gen. Lane, unless I mention it, I was not there.

The probabilities of peace are brightening; the British Minister passed through here yesterday to Queretaro, the seat of the government. He thinks England proposes to give him something to bring about a peace. A Mexican merchant received a letter from Queretaro yesterday, in which it is said that the Deputies would accept our proposition and that the offer would be back to our government by Mr. Trist. This may be true, and God send it. I still believe that peace is near at hand; why I cannot tell, but it appears to me impossible for the war to last.

The Col. and I were down to the General's this evening and General Twiggs, Gen. Pierce and Baron Somebody right from Mexico, say this news is true and that commissioners will meet at Havana. This will cheer you. I shall be home in May or June at farthest and perhaps sooner. You will not receive this until sometime in January and then I shall be there # three or four months, if I should be spared for so much happiness. Your letters relieved me from much anxiety, and though your earnest desire for my return and affectionate pleading fill me with sadness yet they spring from your love for me, and though I cannot comply immediately, even they are welcome. If you cannot write anything else, keep coaxing me, I love to hear you, only do not reflect upon me nor say I do not love you if I do not come immediately.

I have told you all I can of Puebla that would interest you. They are a frivolous people and their lives present little variety. I attend to my own business and stay in the quarters when not on duty. My thoughts are of you, # the little ones and Mother and my hopes are to see you. I read everything in your letters with interest, and all of them until I have them by heart. I received nine letters from you by one mail and I read them all night.

The Col. is very kind to me and my situation is very pleasant. I should have no trouble if it were not for a few in Company A whom I have to look after, but I am in hopes Wallace will return, for if they were all to ask me on their knees, I would not command the company.

About business. I have written Sweetser about that Farris note; it is one hundred dollars with interest. When that is paid he makes a deed. The shop and lot is worth three hundred. I shall send the money by someone in the train of Genl Twiggs tomorrow. Do not work so hard. I can keep you in money while I live. I do not wish you to work so hard. Pay all the debts you make and owe nobody more obligations than you can help. All you do will please me if it does you. Do not pay that debt to

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the Treasury, the interest is paid until next August. At the end of the year, if I
live, I can pay all my debts. Get all you can on my dues, but don't go about too
much to get it, take money and buy it first. If the money should not come safe to
Sweetser, tell Grandfather to stay proceedings until I return. I have two hundred
dollars due me now, but do not like to risk more than one hundred; the balance Sweetser
will get of you and pay Farris. I will write Farris to keep his shirt on.
My eyes are very sore and inflamed, otherwise I am in perfect health, - believe me.
God bless you. John.

Puebla, Mexico, Dec. 20th, 1847.

My dear Wife: Captain Fairchild, bearer of dispatches, has just arrived from Mexico
and leaves tomorrow morning for Vera Cruz. I embrace the opportunity to write you
and how I wish I could send a letter every day, if only to relieve your anxiety.
Since I wrote you the other day Gen. Lane has left us and gone to the City to take
command of another brigade destined for the Pacific. Col. Gorman is in command of the
troops here and we are quartered (his staff) in the palace of the Governor of Puebla.
It is a beautiful place and exhibits a taste and magnificence which does credit to
our dusky enemies. I am now acting as Assistant Adjutant General to the brigade, and
if Col. G. is made Brigadier ( which we are all looking for) I shall be made
permanently. I hold the place now only so long as Col. Gorman is in command of the
brigade. We have had no fighting since I wrote you and times are getting dull, not
even a "stampede" to awaken us from our regular sleep. The garrison is not strong
here, being about three thousand. Some of them say we shall be attacked, but there
is not enough Mexican force in the field altogether to take this town, or even scare
us. Troops are arriving constantly; there have been six to eight thousand pass
here, among them the 5th Indiana. Genl. Scott has commenced carrying out the new plan
of operations, sending off the troops as they arrive in the City to garrison the
different towns and cities of the Republic. The order is published, requiring all

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taxes hitherto paid to the Federal Government to be paid to us to defray the expense of our army. These things do not sit well upon their stomachs, but they have to take it. Captain Fairchild told me tonight that the Mexican congress has sent commissioners to the City who had been in conference with Mr. Trist for several days, and it was believed generally that their efforts would bring about a peace. Mr. Trist is ordered home by our government, but at the solicitation of Mexicans he is still here. This means something, and I am thinking tonight that within the year peace will be made. Do not think though that it will make any difference with my stay whether they make peace or not. I should much like to see a peace made before next May and all of us go home, but if there is never peace I am coming home then anyhow, if I live.

I am convinced of having done my duty since I have been here; I have labored hard and shunned no dangers that lay in the line of my duty, and for this I have the good opinion of all the officers of my regiment, from the Col. down, and when the year is out I can ask the department to accept my resignation, with a good grace, and I shall do it.

I have been thinking about you all day, and when the Capt. came in on the way to Vera Cruz I felt nearer to you immediately, for a chance to send you a letter is the next thing to seeing you. I thought for the last three months that I was getting over being homesick and I often thought of your fears that "I would change in my attachment to home"; but as the last half of the year begins to roll its sums all my homesickness returns and I find myself counting the days with too much exactness to fear any change that will effect my regard for you or attachment to home. While I am writing our officers and interpreters are reading the American and Spanish papers published yesterday in the City of Mexico, and so busy are their tongues that I cannot write connectedly. The papers are full of the probabilities of peace, though nothing official has transpired; both American and Spanish papers are quite sure that

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something will result from the conference between their commissioners and Mr. Trist favorable to peace. We have received Genl. Scott's order proclaiming the existence of the Republic at an end, and "that for all objects of revenue or national greatness is has passed under the dominion of the U.S. States". As the last chance to save the Republic it is believed they will accede to our terms which (though not bound to) our government will accept.

My new position gives me still more active duties, but the busier I am the happier I am. I will write about half the day and ride the balance, always on some duty.

Sometimes when I cannot sleep at night I mount my horse and accompany the officer of the day on his rounds through the City, and visiting the pickets. It was in this way that I got into the skirmish the other morning which I wrote you about. I have got one fellow's gun, an "Escopet" and spurs, which I preserve as trophies. There were a few of the guerillas ventured into the city this evening, but our guards got hold of them and killed two; the dragoons are after the rest now. I should be along were it not that I would rather write to you; when thinking of you and home I am not in the humor for fighting. Since Gen. Butler, Gushing and Lane left us with the large bodies of troops the guerillas have shown themselves quite frequently, but they keep at a good distance. There are no troops here nor about here, nothing but these marauding bands of guerillas trying to steal something. I don't think we are in much more danger here now than at home, though if peace is not made they may annoy us some. The old Governor, Childs, is still in command of this department and he talks about the strength of the fort where he was so long pent up, but Col. Gorman tells him that "no Mexican force can drive us into it, on the contrary we will drive them out of the city if they attack us". Indiana and Ohio can whip all the Mexicans about here. It is a beautiful clear moonlight evening and just cool enough to make a cloak or overcoat comfortable. I do not have much chance to walk at night, as a challenge from a sentinel and the click of a gun lock are rather unpleasant interruptions to solitary

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meditation. A moonlight evening is beautiful here and the buildings, streets and churches are of such an old order that seen in a clear moonlight they put one in mind of stories of the olden times. Every house is surmounted by a wall, which makes it a fortress and the churches and cathedrals are of irregular structure with buttresses and battlements, showing them to have been built for defense as well as to live and worship in. The main Plaza is directly in front of the palace, our present quarters, and in the center is one of the largest churches in the city; around the Plaza is green trees, shrubs and flowers of every description, and seen in such a clear light at this season of the year, it looks like a fairy scene indeed.

Today we had ripe watermelons and muskmelons; they are just making their appearance in market; every other vegetable you can think of is in great abundance constantly. I wish I could send you a ripe orange, we have them here as large as my cap and of most delicious flavor.

Well, I think I shall never be a soldier if I once get home. I have a taste for it and have some reputation as an officer, but I love home too well ever to follow it as a profession. I think this campaign will do for me and I shall return to my old life, satisfied.

The Marion Guards I do not see often and their quarters are some distance off. I have nothing to do with the regiment, nor has the Col. He is civil and military governor and I am on his staff. By the last train letters came from Wallaye with a surgeon's certificate of continued ill health and, of course, his furlough is extended. Oliver could have bitten himself when he found there was no vacancy and the election was void. The boys will not elect him again and I do not know who will be Captain. They are at me again but I would not begin to give my place for a Captaincy. If Pomeroy and two or three others were out of the company it might go to the Devil, and, as it is, I can but little for it. Pomeroy and Dillon came to see me once in a while and we talk over old times with a good deal of pleasure. I wish Wallace would come back, for his own sake and the company; it is going down very fast; his men show plainly what they

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say, that "they have no Captain".

I sent by the last train one hundred dollars by Lieut. Douglas of Cincinnati who was to buy a draft in New Orleans on Cincinnati payable to Sweetser, and I wrote Sweetser to get the rest of the money of you and pay Farris and get a deed. I was a little astonished to hear that Sweetser said "the shop could be sold to pay the debt for the debt is one hundred dollars and the shop is worth three hundred and will have cost me that. I don't want John Brownlee is meddle in my affairs at all; I have asked Sweetser to pay Farris as it will be but little trouble for him. Do not ask favors or him nor anyone else when you can get along without it; pay for everything you buy and owe no one anything. I write all this again for fear my other letters may have miscarried. If the money should be lost and Farris institute proceedings it can be put off until I return. I hardly think he can do anything before I do return, but if the money comes I wish it paid. I will send you more the first safe opportunity, but I do not like to risk much at a time. I am glad John Hall did not come, though I am sorry it got out that I dissuaded him. Eb Carey told me that my letter was used to prevent others coming, in this way; it would be said Dodd writes so and so about the service. I intended it as a kindness to John, but I find there are very few people who can keep a secret properly. Now don't think I am reflecting upon you; I know you did just what I told you, but others did more, however, I care but little about it, the Careys will abuse me anyhow whether they have cause or not. What others think of me I care but little; to you I tell the whole truth in everything and just what I always was I am still, and my heart you know as well as your own. There has no one been in Mexico yet, no matter how high his station or honorable his conduct that has not been abused and his reputation assailed by enemies here or at home, but do not suffer anything of this kind to annoy you; believe nothing discretable to me nor anyone else, unless it comes well vouched for. Don't let the silly enemy of Frank Wallace to me make you unhappy, for he cannot injure me and

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he talks to hurt your feelings. His retribution is coming; I'll make him jump in tears what he has sowed in my absence.

My health is excellent; my eyes have gotten well and nothing worse than a bad cold any way ever annoys me. I don't think that I ever, since I was twenty one enjoyed as good health for so long a time.

Remember me to Mother, kiss the children. I'll write in about two weeks, by the next train. John.

Puebla, Mexico, December 28th, 1947.

Dear Eliza: I sit down late at night to write you a few lines, not because I have anything new to communicate, but because there is an opportunity of sending letters, and I cannot let one pass without at least assuring you of my continued good health and safety. A company of dragoons arrived from the city tonight with a bearer of dispatches for Washington. There is no news from Mexico, the papers are silent upon negotiations, yet it is well known by some of the more intelligent Mexicans that Mr. Trist is staying in the City at the request of the Mexicans, and that negotiations are now going on between the two powers. We received the President's message tonight, but it does not seem to possess much interest to us, in fact but few here care about reading it. There is no diplomacy that can bring about a peace; if the Mexicans agree to a peace it will be from the fear of our arms and not from regard to our great men at home. Then The only thing which I noticed in the message was a recommendation for more troops; this is right and we think the proper way to talk to Mexico. But will Congress grant it? If Whig-abolition principles prevail we shall come out of the war ingloriously and all the hard fighting that has been done will go for nothing. I would rather see the war prosecuted until the whole country is ours than to see our government back out now. Mark this thing; if the present negotiations fail it will be because the Mexicans expect something favorable to them from the present session of our congress.

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We have not been molested since I wrote you last and although we often hear of large
bodies of troops coming to take this city, they do not appear, nor do I think they
will. Mexico is done fighting although it is possible they may refuse to make peace.
The army is being sent out to garrison the different places in Mexico and Gen. Lane
writes that a movement will be made by Scott, forward, in three weeks. Gen. Lane is
trying to get us and the Ohio regiment ordered forward as a part of his brigade.
We all want to go, but are contented to stay here if so ordered. One thing is certain,
if we have to garrison any place we would prefer to stay here, but would rather be
with the advancing column. The march will probably be upon the new seat of government
Querétaro, from thence to San Luis Potosí, but of this I am not certain; it is but
an opinion.

Well, I still want to come home and am determined to do so at the end of the year,
peace or no peace. I think, however, we shall all come by that time, but that again
is but an opinion. In one thing you misunderstand me; you appear to think that I
am induced to stay here from what others may think of me if I should return now; that
it not right, you know that whenever I do what I think is right I do not care a fig
for the opinion of others, but if I should do what my own conscience disapproved, I
could not so well bear the evil opinions of others. I came to Mexico from a sense of
duty and voluntarily resigned the happiness I was enjoying to satisfy that sense of
duty, that men might not justly say I had in a public character advocated the war and
refused to lend my aid in prosecuting it. I have done my duty when the year is out
and I don't care a cent what people think then. I did not come here for popularity,
nor shall I seek it when I go home. I trust in God I have not made such sacrifices
of my own happiness and that of others merely for the popular favor. There are men
here who came for popularity alone, and it is the fear of such men to enforce
discipline that makes our volunteer corps so little thought of by the regular officers.
These fellows expect the men to vote for them when they go home and consequently are

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no good as officers; they are good for nothing. The best officers among us, and
those who have gotten our regiment its reputation by their severity of discipline,
are the most unpopular with the men,-- but I have written enough on these subjects.

In reading over your letters I notice in one of them you coax me to return
immediately, something which is rather unkind, though probably not so intended, you
ask me, if all these persuasions fail to induce me to return to say "I will not".
Now, I cannot think of anything in my life which I ever did towards you and which
would render you unhappy simply because I would, and without a good reason, nor do I
think you can say I ever have. Your persuasions to do contrary to what I thought my
duty I could bear, because you are a woman and because I love you, but do not ask me
to inflict so deep a wound upon you and upon my love for you as to say that I
will not do that which would render you happy, and make me the happiest man on earth.
I am not going to say I will not come, but am coming in May or June.

Our new position is rather more pleasant than formerly; the society and protection
of Col. German is sought by the first class of Mexicans, which gives us the entree to
their houses, parties, etc. The Col. gave a party at the palace on Christmas eve
which was attended by the different consuls in the city, and we saw a specimen of
Spanish high life. Since then we have attended a party given by an American resident
and were treated with the greatest attention by the Mexicans, both male and female.
They are a great people for dancing and waltzing, and as I am a number one at that
you know, I walk into their affections with some facility. The great majority of our
officers are totally unlearned in these arts, and consequently are not known or
noticed. Who ever thought that a man, dancing, could be made profitable, but such is
the fact. They cannot dance or waltz as well as our people at home, but they think he
they excel in everything, and we tell them so too.

Well, it is almost New Year and by the time you receive this a month of the new year
will have flown, leaving but three or four months to elapse before I shall be with you.

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How I do long for the time to come when I can once more sit down in my own home,
with my wife and children around me, can be felt but not described. The long winter
evenings are upon you now and you are gathered around a cheerful fire, and all are
there but me. Though so far from you I know that I am remembered in your joys and
in your sorrows; in your sleeping and waking hours I know you are thinking of me with
painful solicitude. May Heaven grant I live to relieve that anxiety and pay back with
renewed love and care the year of happiness of which I have robbed us all.

I neglected to notice Mr. Hawes letter to you, but I have not forgotten it; give
him my kind regards and tell him he is one of the few who save the place from my
utter and complete abhorrence. I ought not to dislike the place where you, my
Mother and children dwell, but there are some people there so mean, unprincipled and
detestable that I fear I shall never like it again. Mr. Hawes is too good for them
and I am sorry he is not someplace where his good intentions could be appreciated.
God bless him anyhow. Tell him to write me again. I have never heard from Sweetser
which I thought strange, but I believe he does not like to write.

I have written a good many letters recently, but I suppose you do not receive them all;
some of the mails we know have failed to get through. The mails coming this way are
generally with detachments of troops and get through safely. For fear of mishaps I
mention that I sent Sweetser one hundred dollars to pay Farris, you furnishing the
balance. I sent it by Lieut. Douglas of Cincinnati who goes home to recruit for the
Ohio regiment. I shall send more by the first safe opportunity so that you need be
under no apprehensions about funds. If the last I sent should not come safe, then Mr.
Farris must wait until I return; he cannot do anything by law until I am there.

I do not wish you to work so hard; let the women get their dresses made the best way
they can; I do not fancy your being awake at night to work. Take care of yourself and
the children and I will see that you do not lack for the means to live. If I live to

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get home I can pay all I owe and have my property, and then I can get a living
without trouble.

We expect Col. Wilson with troops from Vera Cruz tomorrow and a mail; then I shall hear from you again. Oh, if you are only all well I shall be comparatively happy, for it is the only thing which gives me a real happy moment when I hear from you and that you are well.

to
A train will go from Vera Cruz from the City in a few days and I will write you again and perhaps send some money. I will see Capt. King, as his regiment will come with Col. Wilson from Vera Cruz.

We have just been out patrolling the streets, some dozen guns having been fired in the outskirts of the city, but found nothing; some straggling guerillas have gotten into the outside of town and fired to alarm us.

It is now 2 o'clock in the morning and this will go at daylight, before I am up, so
you will excuse me for not writing more now.

My health is excellent, I am still increasing in bulk flesh and in strength. You do not appear to credit my statements of my health, but they are true. I never had better health than since we have been at Puebla. One thing I must tell you; I have not had the sick headache since we left the Rio Grande. The weather is delightful, as warm as May at home; the nights are almost cold enough for frost. God bless you all

forever. Good night. John.

Jan.

Puebla, Mexico, Jan. 10th, 1849.

Dear Eliza: I received four letters from you yesterday, the last one the 29th of November, and although you continue to scold me, I have not been so happy since I have been in Mexico as these letters made me. The letters came through in 10 days from Vera Cruz; there were only a few came for some of the officers as they were brought by the company of Mexican Lancers in our service. This is the first time I ever could look upon them or their officers with anything like pleasure, for they are

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traitors and as such I detest them, much as they may serve our country. I could kiss a nigger who would bring me a letter from you and it is no wonder that I thought these apostates clever fellows. It had been some long since I heard from you that I felt more than usually anxious about your health and Mother and the children, though my hope is still strong and comforts me amid even well grounded fears. But a few weeks since and you were all well; that is all I ask, if you can only keep your health until I return. I'll make you happy if anything I can do will make you so. How have I been blessed in myself and all I love since I left. I do really think you are mistaken and that Heaven is on our side and that I shall not die in this barbarous part of creation. Your fears are womanly and, since you cannot help it, I give you full liberty to indulge them, and to scold me as hard as you can until I return; but one thing I must beg you to forego and that is talking politics. I don't care whether the war is right or not, I am right, in my humble opinion, and shall persevere until the end of the year if I live. I feel that I cannot reconcile (in words) this determination with my first step in this business, with the love and affection that I cherish for you, my children and home,-- yet that I profess these feelings is as true as that I have volunteered and am in Mexico.

Well, your letters gave me great pleasure, as I have said and although I have written today some hundred official letters, I sit down with a light heart and renewed hope to attempt an answer. I told Decatur that you said his family were all well; the rest you spoke of; none of the rest received any letters, but a train will arrive from Vera Cruz tomorrow with all the back mail and everybody will get letters. The train left before the Lancers so that letters we receive by it will not be so late as those received yesterday. A train is expected from the City of Mexico tonight and we are all preparing letters to send by it. There is as yet no confirmation of the reports of peace, except that Mr. Trist has not left the City and no forward movement has been as yet commenced. Since the arrival at the City of ten thousand

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troops there has been nothing to prevent a movement upon Queretaro and San Luis, but it is not done. Mr. Trist was ordered to come home long ago and he has not yet started. It is thought a forward movement is delayed and Mr. Trist induced to stay by the hope of effecting a peace. Col. Gorman and I were at the Spanish Consul's house a few evenings since and he told us in confidence that negotiations were going on, and showed us a letter from the City corroborating it. This is all the peace news I have, except that the new congress is in session and peace is confidently looked for by the intelligent Mexicans from its deliberations. Peace, however, is a small matter to me; I am coming home at the end of a year if I am spared so long. I shall have difficulty in resigning, but I can effect it and I intend to do it.

Nothing has occurred here since I wrote you last, not even an alarm; everything is as quiet as a city at home. We have been promised a visit from Gen. Roest but he does not come. Santa Anna is about seventy miles from here with only 1000 men, and rather discouraged. We have taken within the last two weeks, three generals, two colonels and two captains prisoners and they are most of them in the palace (our quarters) except some who are wounded and with their families in the city. Some of them are gentlemanly and intelligent, and when the office is empty and I have nothing to do I sometimes invite them from their rooms, where they are confined, and talk to them in the best of Spanish I can muster. One old general has a very interesting family who come to see him every day, and I am truly sorry for them. If I had the power I would let them go, for they cannot fight and never will do any harm. Strange that the Mexican people should be so constantly fighting when the Lord never intended them for anything of the kind. There are many of them intelligent and accomplished in the polite and useful arts; industrious and excellent citizens, but they cannot fight, it is not in them and they show it on every battle field. I hope some good angel may bring them to their senses before they are a part and parcel of our republic, for I want no such

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a people to share our government. They may be free if they can, but not with us with
my consent. I believe it will be a blessing to them to take part of their territory,
for the less they have to manage, the better will they get along with it.

Col. Gorman received a letter from Wallace yesterday in which he said his resignation was not accepted and he expected orders to recruit. So that Company A has still a Captain; the boys were very glad when Col. Gorman told them that Mr. O.H.P. Carey was not to be Captain, and that in the event Wallace did yet resign there would have to be another election. The manner in which he was elected has become known. He and Decatur has promised the place of sergeant, in which there was two vacant, to at least eight or ten of the boys. The vacancy occasioned by Berry's promotion they promised to at least a dozen; that is they promised their influence and the votes they could influence. All this is known and they are despised by both officers and men. The boys all want me to run if Wallace does not return, promising to vote for me unanimously, but I shall not do it; my place is better, and if it were not I should not do it. In the election for lieutenant I took an active part. I nominated Sam Macam (the big man from Muncie, you recollect) and we beat the Carey candidate thirty votes. When in the company I was severe in drill and discipline, always on hand and compelling the men to be; this makes an officer disliked, still I have more friends in the company than both the Careys put together. I was not near the company when the election for Captain was held, and they told the boys, besides their other lies, that I did not want the office (that was a fact) and only ran to beat Oliver. I did not want the place and would not exchange for a thousand dollars. If Wallace does resign I think I can get Pomeroy elected; at all events Oliver shall not be elected if I can prevent it. What Cross told of him is true, but there is but two in the company that know it and I have got them to promise not to tell it to anyone. They will keep it for, although they hate him, they are my friends and I told them I wished it kept for the express purpose that it might not get home to his wife.

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It seems Cross knew it. I have talked to Oliver about it, but he denies it. It is certainly true for the man with whom he divided the money has told it. It will not be known. He feels very bad since he heard Wallace has not resigned, for he thought he would get a commission, and all he thought of was the pay,-- but this I know; Col. Gorman did not intend to give him a commission at all even if Wallace had resigned, so little does he think of him. They are both meaner men than at home. I have been offered a commission in the regular army, and if I were a younger man I should accept it. Now don't think I am sorry that I am married, and you are in the way of my wishes,-- far from it. If I were single the army would suit me, but now I choose to love you, my children and my home better than a life of that kind. I have no wish to accept it under my present circumstances, but am glad that such a wife and such a happy home are mine to throw into the scale. If Col. Gorman is appointed General I shall accept the place of Assistant Adjutant General, but of this there is little prospect. I have that appointment now, but it will last only while he has a General's command. That may be while I stay, and if so I am as far in military matters as I wish to go. I am inefficient offered the command of a cavalry company, but Gorman is opposed to my accepting it, and I care nothing about it, so that will not go off. Let whatever will happen, I am coming home in May or June if I live, and I told the Colonel so today. He laughed and shook his head, but he cannot keep me here and he knows it.

Well, I have written until dark and will adjourn until the candles are lighted. 9 o'clock. Your description of those children of ours brings their innocent faces fresh to my mind and fills me with the livliest desire to see them again. I shall be a happy man when I can dandle that boy upon my knee, but if he improves as fast as he has since I left I suppose he will be too big for that when I return. I am glad he looks like me for your sake, for you have someone to remind you of me. Somehow or

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ether I cannot help but think his name is John; I always think of the name whenever I think of him. It cannot be so because I like the name, for I always thought it an ungla ugly cognomen. I read the whole of your letters with pleasure, but when you write of yourself and the children they interest me most. Things which appear simple perhaps to you, if they relate to any of the family possess a great interest to me. In thinking of you and children I frequently find myself just on the point of saying just such things as Mr. Hawes says; full of feeling, but simple as the expressions of a child.

You speak of our hardships, yet you know nothing about them, and you could not believe that I have lived through what we have suffered, but I have and now am in excellent health, in good, aye splendid quarters, with luxuries crowning our board. I have not been sick a day I believe since we left Vera Cruz, except with a bad cold. I have not had the sick headache since we left the Rio Grande. I am heavier than when I left home, stouter and can eat twice as much.

Puebla, Jan. 10th, 1948.

Dear Eliza: The train has not arrived from the city and we do not look for it before tomorrow evening. It is strange that you were so long without letters from me, I wrote you at almost every place from Vera Cruz to this city; in fact I wrote by every opportunity that has presented itself since we left the Rio Grande. You must not get alarmed when you do not hear from me, for I have cautioned you that the channels of communication are crooked and unsafe, and the guerillas have perhaps lighted many a cigar by our letters to our wives. When a long time has elapsed without any word, do not let the first idle report terrify you; wait for news from some of us. I do not think we shall have any more fighting to do, and our chances for life are about the same as at home. It is now understood that a force moves upon Queretaro and San Luis that Gen. Lane is the man. He is making an effort to get us moved up to the City, and if he succeeds we will go with him. I do not think there

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will be a movement any farther, but if there is we all want to go with Gen. Lane.

Puebla becomes more pleasant as we get more acquainted with the people and the language. Many of the best families suffered when Santa Anna took possession of the city and drove Childs into the fort. All who had been on friendly terms with us were punished in some way; girls who had been servants in American families had their heads shaved and some their ears cut off. Since we have been here they have been rather shy of us, even those who were friendly to us, fearing, from the small force we had, a repetition of the siege, but as it becomes manifest that we intend to hold the place, they gain confidence in our ability to do so and are more friendly and sociable, inviting us to their homes and parties, and expressing their sentiments frankly. Scarely a day passes but the Col. and his staff are invited to a dinner or party, and we generally go two or three nights in a week. The adjutant of Col. Childs, and myself are about the only officers who waltz or dance polka with the Senoritas and we are consequently popular, and the "dos Ahuantes" (two Adjutants) are treated very well. Though we see some better specimens of the people, my opinion is not changed of them as a whole. They are a poor excuse for a nation and do not deserve the beautiful country with which Heaven has blessed them. We do not like them and I suppose hardly do them justice in anything.

An express has just come in from Jalapa with news the train under Col. Wilson was attacked in the rear by a large guerilla force, and that the wagons and pack mules were captured and the mail. Col. Wilson's loss is reported to be from fifty to one hundred men. It may all be true, but we doubt it some. Tomorrow will bring us some news from one train or the other, and I shall defer writing until there is a probability of the letter going before I get sick of it and have to write another.

Good night.

Jan. 11th. No train from the city yet but look for it today. The report of the attack upon Col. Miles train from Veracruz.

Vera Cruz is confirmed. It was a great blunder in the Col. who was six miles in advance with the main body of his command, leaving a large train guarded by one company of Dragoons. The querillas, to the number of five hundred, were on either side of the road in ambush, and fired upon the Cavarly in a pass where they could not charge the enemy. There should have been "flankers" or parties either side of the road in advance, to see if the enemy occupied the heights, and drive them off. Half of us been killed and our train lost. If I know from experience how vigilant we were, for many a weary day, with twenty or thirty men, I climbed the hills and waded the streams off the road to protect our flanks from just such an attack. This Col. Miles will be blamed for this affair, and justly so, for such a contemptible enemy as these cowardly querillas to kill so many of our men, and all for want of a little care and vigilance, justly s subjects him to censure. The mail is lost, but there is a probability of the whole train being recaptured, as troops were sent back from Jalapa for that purpose.

It is a beautiful day, as warm as June and as balmy as our spring. The white tops of the mountains are glistening in the sunshine, and little rivulets are running in every direction from their base, fed by the melting snow on top. Some days the snow will all melt, but in the morning the mountain is snow covered again and as white as ever. The snow all falls in the night. Although it is summer constantly around us, we do not have to think of the north to know it is winter; the mountains are never without snow and they can be seen in every direction around us, from the lofty "Orizaba" and "Popocatepetl" to the more insignificant hills, which any where else would be called mountains. There is an immense crater in the top of "Popocatepetl" which today is smoking furiously. It is plainly visible to the naked eye, but with a large glass it is brought so close that we can see the whole beauty of it. I should like to have you here to take a gallop over the country with me, to

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see the mountains, the fruits and grain growing and ripening in January, the beautiful sunny slopes and green level valleys filled with green verdure, and in short witness the whole effect of a summer in winter; but then I should want you home again when we stopped, for I would not have you stay one night in this region. I have been writing all day and am tired and weary of it. My ideas will not flow long in a channel that would interest you, unless I was to tell you I am homesick and would give the world to lay my head in your lap,— that would make you pity me, so I won't do it. Good day.

Puebla, Jan. 16th, 1948.

Dear Eliza: Gen. Marshall passed through our city today and with him has passed our last hope of going to the City of Mexico. Gen. Marshall is the last of the Brigadiers and there is now no probability of our being relieved and other troops stationed here. You will be glad to hear this and, in truth, I am not sorry, for it is a delightful place and we are well quartered, in good health and nothing to do. In addition to this, we hear bad accounts of the health in the City; the new troops are dying off very fast there and they are moved into the country as fast as they arrive and encamped in their tents. It is no wonder the new troops die off, ours did too until we got acclimated; we have now spent both seasons in this country and may reasonably expect a continuance of our present good health.

Since writing the preceding pages I have read your letters again, and though I have given you "carte blanche" to scold me and to indulge your fears, I wish you would not insist with so much pertinacity that I shall die here. You say your "worst fears have been realized" but that you "have not yet heard of my death".

Now you do not believe anything of the kind, but your despondency is thus preparing you to realize your worst fears. I am not superstitious, nor do I believe that your fears will shorten my life, but it is very unpleasant, these frequent allusions to an event which I cannot contemplate with anything but repugnance. I am not scolding

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you I hope, and if I have, forgive me for auld lang syne.

Well, Col. Miles is two days behind only, with a large mail, which was not lost as we supposed, nor was there so many killed, and the only loss of property was goods owned by Mexican merchants in Mexico who were going under the protection of our troops.

It is regarded as a great blunder and the effect of unpardonable carelessness in an officer.

I wrote a letter to Mrs. Sweetser in which I told him that I would send a draft for one hundred dollars, and the letter has gone I suppose. The draft I had bought of our Quartermaster, but upon going for it found that he could not draw upon New Orleans, so I cannot send any now unless I can get a treasury note. Our Major talks of sending a draft to Laporte; if so I shall put my money on hand in with him, one or two hundred dollars. I am not particular whether I send any more or not before I come home. You have enough, and those I owe may wait until I come except Grandfather, and you will attend to him wants. Gen. Worth is expected tonight from the City on his way home. The mail will go with him, and I shall keep this open for the news from the City. It is the last hope of our being brought up; if he does not bring orders we shall stay here. The peace prospects are improving, but I suppose you place but little reliance in my prophesies; I have disappointed you so often. I shall not tell you now what new peace "wrinkle" I have got, but reserve it for the last page. I think it is now made, but if not I don't care a fig, nor need you. Jan. 17th. Col. Miles arrived this morning with the mail and I had the pleasure of receiving your letter of 4th December, quite late. It makes me as near happy as I can be here to get a letter from you and to know you are well, and the children and mother. The road is now open and arrivals will now be frequent and I shall hear from you often. The train is in also from Mexico and the mail closes in an hour. I care for nothing Capt. Wallace says or does; he cannot injure me, I have got a reputation and shall take it home that he can never attain again in this world.

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He has disgraced himself, but he does not possess the power to injure anyone else. That money he collected from the men and, wishing to use a part of it he insisted that Decatur and myself use the balance, assuring us that we could pay it when we came home, that it was State funds and Whitcomb would not want us to pay it until we came home. Whitcomb would not have troubles him if he had not gone home and abused the service and told so many lies. It makes no difference, I might as well pay it now as ever, and I have written Sweetser to do so. I shall send one hundred dollars by Mr. Phelps to New Orleans, to buy a draft and send to Sweetser. I owe Whitcomb sixty three dollars; the balance he will give to you. We expected orders this morning to go up to the City, but they did not come and we shall stay here; we are all glad, for the news of ill health there is confirmed. It is all envy in Wallace saying my place is no better than before; my pay is one dollar better than a Captain's and it is a place every man in the regiment wants. I would not swap though I did run for Captain. I am glad I was not elected but the boys are all very sorry. I shall not run again. The Careys can do nothing. I got John Oldham discharged today after Carey failed. They all depend upon me for favors, knowing that Carey can do nothing. I have written every discharge, roll and return for the company until lately; he now has to hire it done and pay for it. Eb Carey is dead; he was sick when they passed here and died very shortly after they arrived at the City. I have to write to his wife tonight at Decatur's request; it is a painful duty but I must do it.

I am coming home probably in May, but June at the outside. My health is excellent. In my next I will tell you how I live, sleep, etc. At present I am very tired, the pen has scarcely been out of my hand since morning. Good bye, John.

Evening, Jan. 17th, 1848. I have concluded to send my letter by some of the officers so I will scribble another sheet over. First I must tell you I saw Capt. King today, he arrived with Col. Miles on his way to the City. When I saw him and all his companions stretched out on their blankets up in St. Augustine church, perfectly

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fatigued and cursing the necessity which forbade them even a day's rest, I was
thankful we did not have to go on with them, for though I ride and the weather is
warm and delightful, the nights are cold and on a march we all suffer terribly.
He is a thorough soldier and has been in the service ten years.

I got a letter today from Dick, full of fun and complaining of me. He says his wife
is "sick at the stomach",- a very natural consequence of having anything to do with
one of his name. No news from Toledo. All well and good sleighing. How I should
love to be with you and take a ride after the merry sleigh bells, but never mind,
summer is coming, and another winter will see you happier I trust. I think of you in
your lonely condition and blame myself for leaving you, but think of my staying at
home after all that had passed on the war question. I should have been unhappy and
made everyone around me miserable. You should would have been as unhappy with such
a husband as you are with none, perhaps more so. But if ever I get back once more I
shall be the best husband ever you had, and the most dutiful of sons. Tell Mother
(bless her soul) that my hopes extend to her also, she must not get discouraged, I
shall see her yet and, I trust, minister to her happiness for many a declining year.
Tell Grandmother I love her for sticking to me through evil as well as good report.
She is an old hero, and you see what women are whose husbands were once soldiers.
Remember me to Mr. and Mrs. Howes; I shall always entertain a pleasant remembrance of
their goodness and frank straight forward characters. I shall not have time to
write to Stebbins this time, but give him my respects, and tell him I'll appear to
him one of these days.

Tonight I have to write to Harrison and to Eb Carey's wife, so that I cannot long
indulge my favorite employment, that of writing to you. I will give you a sketch of
my manner of living, and for the present, bid you good bye.

The rooms in the palace where we quartet quarter are large and spacious, very high and
painted instead of papered, the columns, ceilings, pilasters, etc., are ornamented with

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gold, upon wood and the Italian stucco work, in the most gorgeous and splendid manner. Through the day it is warm enough, but the nights are cool and we burn, in the rooms where we sit, coal in grates or furnaces. I have a cot made to take to pieces, and Mexican blankets are our only bed clothes. I board at my old eating house, our mess becoming so expensive, from the number of visitors at headquarters, that we broke up house keeping and now board out. We get plenty to eat and anything we wish, but it does not taste as it would at home; the Mexicans can't cook for our palates. But we get along very well, putting up with what we cannot help with the best grace we can, but Oh, I do sigh for a piece of bread and butter and cup of coffee, to say nothing of the mince pies you are having about these days. Oh, cracked.

The officers, many of them, gamble and drink, some from love of it and some to kill time. I take a spree with them sometimes, but do not think I get drunk or anything of the kind, for I have not been drunk since I left home, nor do I think I shall. I know that I have the same spirit that animates them, but I feel no desire to mingle in drunkenness or debauchery. The restraining influence is my wife, and children, and if my love was not strong enough to keep me with you, it keeps me from doing anything which you may not know and look upon. If I should get drunk, or do anything else that I should be ashamed of, I should tell you of it most likely.

I wish I had your miniature, for though I can see you at any time, it is so far off that the features are not distinct. I do not dream much and am glad of it, for it makes me feel homesick for a week to dream of you. Remember me to all my friends, Lenox and Mr. Sweetser and everybody who cares for me. Tell Lois Oliver a well; he talks of trying to get exchanged into Eb's old company, 5th Regiment, he thinks he could get an office there; That is all he cares for or thinks about. He would never come home if he gets an officer's pay. That is my opinion.

Kiss the children for me, and I'll kiss you in about four months. John.

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Puebla, Mexico, January 25th, 1848.

Dear Eliza: This is a bright, beautiful, sunny day; just such a day as you have often seen in May or June, when the sun is warm but not oppressive and the bright fleecy clouds move about in the heavens like a picture in a panorama, and the clear, blue sky beyond, looking so mild and serene that one cannot help feeling its happy influence. I have been sitting for the last hour at a large window, for want of anything else to do, looking at the sky, so like the summer skies of my own country, until I grew homesick and, having a little leisure, I sat down to write to you. I have an indefinite idea that there will be an opportunity to send a letter before long, and I cannot allow one to pass without sending you something. I have thought of you constantly for the last week, more so than usual, and the other night actually dreamed of you, a miracle for me, for I seldom dream. I never pass a couple in the street who look cheerful and happy, or go into a home where they seem to enjoy life, but my thoughts revert to home, and I want wings that I may get there quickly. This absence at times becomes insupportable, so much do I long for the delights of home and the society of those who love me. You will say perhaps, "why do you not come then?" "You cannot care so much for us and still stay there". Yes, but I do care just so much for you and still stay here. I force myself to stay and convince myself that I must wait, just as the boy who sighs to be a man is convinced he must wait for the time to pass, the lover for the time when he will be the happiest man in the world, or the avaricious farmer for the maturity of his crops. These things all come in good time when Providence smiles, and with the blessing of the same overruling power my time will come for home and happiness; and who could doubt the goodness of a being who has followed me and mine with blessings so far and who today is smiling so benignly through his works. I may not be a Christian, in fact I know I am not, but I believe in the existence of a power so mighty that he cannot err; for where could our wrongs be righted if the Almighty erred? In cherishing these hopes I perhaps

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presume upon former kindnesses, for, as I have often said, I deserve nothing on my own account, for I am happier if I hope, and lose nothing if they are not realized, for I shall never cease hoping until I cease living. So hope for everything and do not fear but that whatever happens will be right. I have undertaken to be your confessor and you will think I have turned preacher, but it is only because I love you and would have you as happy as you can be. I shall not take you to task for loving me "too much"; that is no part of my religion, you have absolution for loving me as much as you please, unworthy as I am. The Bible says "wives love your husbands". At least I believe it does, and if not it ought to. By the way, I have your Bible yet and intend to bring it home with me; it is the only thing the Mexicans would not steal from us, and they would steal that if it were in Spanish. There is a Capt. of one of our companies who sings beautifully, and with him and Pomeroy I sit down in the evenings and sing some of our old songs. Oh, how it makes us love everybody at home. I can think of no one that I would not be glad to see; the meanest thing that lives where you do would possess an interest for me and cure my eyes if they were sore. Things move on in the same old way here, no fighting, no excitement, no fun that we can understand, but I am generally busy, and that is a happy day for me. I get up in the morning about 7 or 8 o'clock, that is early here, get my breakfast, go to the quarters of the regiment and "turn off the guard" for our regimental quarter.

Turning off the guard is to inspect the guns, pass in review before the officer of the day and give the necessary instructions to the officer of the guard. It is called "guard mounting" because a new guard takes the place of the old one. This I do as Adjutant of the regiment. Then I turn off the City guard in the grand plaza. This I do as Assistant Adjutant General, or a general staff officer, Gorman being in command of the brigade. Then I superintend the report of the regiment for the day, then the report of the city troops, then answer letters, correct reports, make details, till dinner. To do all this I have assistants, of course. The Sergeant Major who is a

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deputy and assistant to Adjutant of the regiment, is a fine fellow but is quite sick now and I have a little more to do than usual. Then at headquarters I have a clerk and two orderlies to carry letters, reports, etc. I am generally busy until 3 or 4 o'clock, when I take a stroll or ride on horseback, get my dinner, smoke a cigar, play a game of chess or billiards, and in the evening stay in quarters generally; occasionally go to the theatre, to a party or call on some American family. This is about the routine of duty and pleasure. Thus, you see that I have to do and what I choose to do; to be sure there is no great number of pleasures to choose from, but I manage to make time pass as fast as possible.

Since I wrote you by the train, we have another mail and I have your letters to the 20th December. I am sorry to hear that the smallpox is in Marion, for it is a disease that I dread as much as the yellow fever, but I have great confidence in Mother and scarcely believe any ill will befall you while she is near to guard and take care of you. I am glad to hear it is no worse.

Puebla grows more pleasant as the people gain confidence in our ability to hold it and almost every business house in town is open night and day. The streets are thronged with men of business, slaves, pleasure seekers and the curious who have emerged from their shell to see what wonders have taken place since their seclusion. Splendid carriages are whirling past, filled with the rich and gay and the walks on Sunday and festival days exhibit a great deal of finery, some fine forms but few handsome faces. Did I ever tell you about their bustles? Lord, you ought to see a regular built lady here. Why, if a Broadway belle could see one of these moving piles she would hide her "diminished" rump for very shame. Some of the ladies dress very fine; their favorite dress is white muslin, of a texture so fine and soft that it looks, as they sail along, like a snow bank on a soft summer cloud. The huge bustles give them great "en bon point", but I am too old to be deceived by such traps.

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I know that "all is not gold that glitters" and these evidences of things not seen can't fool me as to what they represent. I see by a paper from home that they blow themselves up in that quarter nowadays by means of an inflated skirt. I am sorry of the improvement, for there was wind enough in the old arrangement. Well, that will do for bustles. Don't think me personal, for a moderate ambition in that part of a lady's body I do not object to.

In our company things are as usual. Wallace wrote Gorman on the 2d December that he intended to recruit for this regiment. If he has resigned we shall soon be officially informed of it and there will be an election for Captain. Do not be alarmed, I shall not run though they all wish me to now. Oliver is also desirous that I should be Captain and he elected to a Lieutenantcy, but I shall have nothing to do with it; they may work out their own salvation. I am clear of them and the responsibilities. The boys see that the Careys can do nothing and have no influence. I think I told you about John Oldham; he had been sick for four months and looked like a fright but Carey could not get a discharge. John came to me and in two hours he had all his papers ready to start. Carey is no officer and can do nothing, while a good officer or one who has some reputation, can effect anything he desires for others. After I had beaten the Careys man for lieutenant in Berry's place with Sam Macom, Oliver was very much out down but he and Decatur(who commands the company) had appointed for sergeant one of the men they promised to, but I soon got the order reducing him to the ranks, and appointed one of my friends, a fine fellow from Muncie; his name is James Halstead, and there is not a better soldier in Mexico. Over such a man the Careys had appointed a lazy, good for nothing fellow from Madison, one of Berry's "boys". After Oldham left I was up at the quarters of our company and one of the boys remarked "well, if Dodd went be Captain he will have to get us all our favors, for we have no other officer". If I do not get Oliver beat with some one it will be because I like his wife and wish her to prosper, and not from good will to him.

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I understand that Oliver has written home that I promised not to run for Captain and that I contested his election. Both of these are lies. The day after the election German received a letter from Wallace that he had not resigned and expected orders to recruit. Of course, he could not give Oliver a commission when he had a Captain. Some of the boys told him that it was owing to my influence that he did not get his commission, which was untrue; I never said a word about it. I did not like the way they managed the election when I was not present, but I was glad I was not elected.

I expect he will abuse me to his wife, but say nothing to her unless she mentions it, then tell her the truth as it is. Oliver deserves nothing, for his avaricious and dishonest conduct, but his wife should not suffer for it, and if he is not beaten for Captain you may put it down to my regard for his wife, and to no other cause.

Jan. 26th. I am in bad humor this morning, and I do not know who would not be, for all our bright anticipations of peace are blasted by a "pronunciamento" from the state of San Luis Petoski, in which they are joined by five other states, to put down the supreme government and carry on the war. This is caused by the belief that our army has halted in its operations because of party dissensions at home and for fear of a popular outbreak against our government. Mr. Clay's speech and the resolutions, Tom Cournin speech and the resolutions offered in our present congress, are all printed in Spanish, hawked about the streets of every city and town in Mexico. The suppressiveMexicans are inquiring "if our army will not have to go home to suppress the revolution and sustain the war"; all this have they been taught by emanations from vicious heads and traitorous hearts. Oh, miserable, scheming, shuffling demagogues, who think that the winning card will lose the next deal, or in other words, that a change in public sentiment will place them in power; and for the chance of this they would sacrifice the honor and interests of their country and keep us in this warfare year after year. It is as true as the gospel that the war is kept up by them and them alone; were it not for opposition to the war at home it would long since have

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terminated honorably. It is no secret here; intelligent Mexicans confess that upon
the anti war party and them alone have they rested their hopes. Oh, miserable
fratricides, murderer of their own flesh and blood, for the paltry hope of office.
They are murderer, for they have long since seen that the people are determined to
prosecute the war, and why not all agree to it, and we will have peace at once. I'll
tell you why; it would leave them in an oblivion so deep that the hand of political
resurrection would never reach them. You feel and talk like a woman, but do not let
even your woman's heart be deceived by any such claptraps. Oppose the war; of
course they will, and tell the most specious stories about it. The Whigs made
opposition to a bank, such an awful thing that it beat Van Buren; now it is the most
clear thing in the world that he and Genl. Jackson were right. Did they now say that
a low tariff would ruin us, and elect a president by feeling the people. Now nobody
pretends to advocate an opposite opinion. I don't charge this continuance of the war
upon all Whigs, but it is kept up by the hopes held out to Mexico by this Whig Aboli-
tion traitorous few who would sink our beloved country into moral and political
degradation if they could but ride into office upon the ruins. I could not tell you
what I feel in this small hand, for I want to write in letters of fire to express the
withering scorn and contempt I feel for such men. Enough of this, but if I were
single and not drawn home by my duty to you and my children, and by my regard for you,
I should fight here until I was gray and spend the last cent of my substance in
carrying on the war until this robbing nest was broken up and a nation of thieves
taught to respect the rights of others.

They propose in this new prompciamento
to raise thirty thousand men, put down the Mexican government which is now disposed to
make peace, and then march upon us. The states that go in for this measure are populous
and wealthy and can raise the men. The vice governor of San Luis is at the head of it.
It may not succeed, but must pretract the war.

Upon reading over what I have written I am inclined to think that my letters will not