Thursday Decr 31 1863
Alas for yesterdays Sun and balmy air and brilliant atmosphere. It has rained all day and as I now write, the rain decending upon the tin roof sounds like the roar of a Waterfall, but I like that Music. It was always charming to me to hear the rain decending upon the roof or pattering against the window panes. At night it lulls me to sleep like the gentlest music. Altho “soletary and alone” there would be a sense of comfort and contentment sitting by my comfortable fire while the tempest rages without were it not the constant reflection which forces itself upon me that Thousands, ah, hundreds of thousands of our brave soldiers are only rescued by thin canvas from the storm and perhaps lying upon the bare ground. What of the thousands who tonight are doing picket duty miles from the camp where a fire or a tent would but expose them to the enemy and invite the crack of the deadly rifle. Of the faithful sentinel pacing his weary round facing the rain or the blinding sleet and chilling wind. I almost feel it selfish and mean to feel comfortable tonight. The old year is drawing to his end bedewed with tears and uttering sounds of sorrow in the darkness and gloom of the night. On such a night Ossian would have heard ghosts shrieking through the air. It would require no great stretch of fancy to imagine that the lordly Plantation Monarchs of the south were in spirit revisiting the scenes of their former glory and weeping and wailing over their fallen greatness, and shrieking in vindictive hate their final adieus as the closing year closes up all hope for their success. No hope of Recognition by foreign Nations. No hope of an acknowledgment of their Independence by the United States. Nothing but disaster in the field for the most part of the year. Their Currency nearly worthless. Their Strength failing them. Sustained only in their opposition by their fears for their personal safty and their Vindictive hatred of the North. The Leaders of the rebellion seem bent upon using the power they now hold in revenging themselves for their failure and doing all the injury they can to the “hated yankee” before they are compelled to fly or yield. After three years of doubt & despondancy, of disaster and suffering, of a terrible Civil War and all its attendant horrors, we think we can now see the “beginning of the end.” The public mind is boyant with hope and confidence. The universal sentiment is “The Rebellion Must and shall be put down.” The “Compromise” party, the Anti war party, has dwindled down to a few discontented spirits who are looking to a “re-construction,” and hope to find themselves on the dominant side of politics when the wheel turns over, and the masses of the south appear again at the ballot box as of yore. They are called “Copperheads” “Peace Democrats” “Southern sympathisers” &c. They oppose the Administration (of course), oppose the war generaly, discourage enlistments, rant about Taxation, and especialy about the Draft, and seem generaly determined to leave to their children the heritage which the Tories of the Revolution and the Hartford Conventionists of the War of 1812 left to theirs. The whole of the U.S. is My Country. “May She always be in the right. But my Country right or wrong.” Julia is still at Fort Simmons staying with Col Wellings family, has been there now almost two weeks. I met ‘Ed’ Dickerson today, he told me that Maj E P Taft expected his wife and family tonight. I must call at the Metropolitan Hotel in the morning and see if they have come. The prospect now is that not much calling will be done tomorrow. The past year has sliped away very speedily as it seems to me, and without any change as it regards the condition of myself or family, or relations. All live and as far as I know enjoy good health as usual. All of our Fathers family, except Brother Lyman, Sister Betsey and myself met at Lyons in Oct. Five Sisters & two Brothers. Harriet Northam of Lockport NY, Abby Sabin of Cincinnatti Ohio, Lois W. Androus of Cold Water Michigan, Frances Root of Medina NY, and Jane Atwater of Lockport NY, C R Taft of Williamstown Mass, all met at Brother Newells House in Lyons. It was a pleasant re-union. I have been Home to Sag Harbor three times during the year, in March, in August, and in Nov, spending in all about six weeks at home with my family. My family left Lyons in April 1859. None of us have been there since. I intend to return when I can spare time to visit my friends.