wjgriffing@comcast.net

The Great Expedition

In August 1864, Augusta returned to Owego, New York to visit her relatives and friends. She took her three children, John, Willie, and Mary with her. The first two letters presented here were written by Augusta's mother, Mary Ann Goodrich. The other letters were all exchanged between James to Augusta after her departure from their temporary home in Lincoln, Valley Township, Kansas. During her absence, James' letters describe being called out with the Nemaha County, Kansas, militia after Cheyenne Indians attacked ranches in nearby counties and stages on the Overland Trail.

Owego [New York]
July 24, 1864

Dear Augusta and all,

It is Sunday and just as dry and smoky as ever, but not quite so hot. Last week we had clouds come up from the west and it thundered and everyone thought that we was going to have a shower, but the clouds all dispersed and we had a bright rainbow in the east, but not one drop of rain. And the next morning it was cloudy and looked as if it would rain but did not, and since then the nights have been colder. It will be three weeks tomorrow since [your brother] Stephen commenced haying and harvesting, and he has not lost a day nor an hour in this line [as] it has not rained in all that time. Our grass is all cut and made into hay and he has got to hire a man to stack it tomorrow. He did not like to commence stacking yesterday for fear it might rain. Now he has 6 or 7 acres of oats to harvest and then his harvest work is done till the corn comes on. It is so dry that the fruit is dropping off and our garden is not worth much. Our beans are all dried and have not blossomed. We have had two dinners of peas. There are but few potatoes in a hill. We have good old ones yet. New potatoes are 3.00 dollars a bushel and old ones are 2.50. Stephen gave 20 cents for a spool of thread yesterday.

We have had some calls the last week. Miss D. Bates called with Frank Platt. Mrs. Platt wanted butter but I make so little I could not let her have any then. I let your Aunt Lucy [Fiddis], Mrs. Bishop, and Mrs. Tennent have butter and did let your Aunt Betsy [Platt] and Mrs. Charles Platt have [some] in June, but since it has been so dry, the cows have dried up half. Mrs. Tiffany called here one day. [Your sister] Mary came up and left her babe and went to the village one day. Herman [Goodrich] had our waggon yesterday to go up to Samuel [Griffing’s]. He says Samuel goes bent over almost as much as his father did. Putt [Charles Goodrich] says he has the rheumatism all over and Grove [Pike] is not much better. His limbs are both swelled up to his body and he cannot move them. Someone else has to move them for him. Putt says they did not know what did ail him – some thought it dropsy.

We received your letter mailed the 12th yesterday – 14 days coming. If my letters are as long going as yours are coming you will not get but this one before you start [on your trip here]. You will start two weeks from tomorrow and [your brother] Stephen will go for you every train Friday and Saturday, if nothing happens. I hope [your sister-in-law] Mrs. [Clarissa] Giddings will come with you. If she does, shall you go to St. Joseph and meet there? I wish [your husband] James could come too but if he cannot, he must come for you. I hope that James Goodrich will get there before you start to come with you. We have not heard from either of the boys in some time. I wish [your brother] Ralph would write oftener. We have not heard anything about any battles in Arkansas lately. The papers have so much to say about Washington and places around it that there is not room for any news so far away from the Capitol. There is to be another draft in September here and those that are drafted will have to go. There are no substitutes to be got now for love or money. A great many poor boys have been killed [from] around here – John Meadow, John Orcutt and old man, a Blanchard boy, a Hand boy, Mr. Purmatur’s son, two Brink boys, and others that I cannot think of. Our papers say that 15,000 of our men lie in the Wilderness [near Chancellorsville, Virginia] not buried. It is awful to think of.

I have got pink calico [to make your daughter] Mary a dress when she gets here. Am glad you have got a rocking chair. Is it high back? If so, you got it as cheap as you could get it here. Is it dry in Kansas? Have you any sage roots? Mine all died last winter. A great many things was winter killed last winter. I hope [your son] Willie is not going to be sick. [Your affectionate mother – Mary Ann Goodrich]

In the July 21st and July 28th editions of the Nemaha Courier, James Griffing had the editor run the following announcement:

Providence favoring, the committee appointed by the Kansas conference of the M. E. Church to examine propositions and secure information with regard to the most promising points for the location of a Seminary in Northern Kansas, will be in Nemaha County for this purpose, the last week in July, and would be glad to meet all friends interested at the following times and places, prepared to give them all the information possible, to wit:

At Lincoln, Thursday July 28, at 2 o'clock, at the school house. At Centralia, Friday 29th. At Seneca, Saturday the 30th.

There will be preaching at these points as follows: At Lincoln, Thursday at 8 o'clock P.M. by Rev. B. F. Bowman. At Centralia, Friday at 8 o'clock P.M. by Rev. D. P. Mitchell. At Seneca, Sunday at half past ten by Rev. D. P. Mitchell. At Seneca, 8 o'clock P.M. by Rev. W[ashington] Marlatt. At Turkey Creek meeting house, Sunday 3 o'clock, Rev. B. F. Bowman.

J. S. Griffing, Pr. in charge Seneca circuit.

Owego [New York]
August 7, 1864

Dear James,

I write to you because I expect you will be alone when this reaches you. I do not think that it will get there before Augusta and the children get started to come here. We did not hear from you last week. We sent to the [post] office every day and sometimes twice a day. This morning, Helen Stiles brought in one that her father got at the [post] office last evening. Am sorry that the boys are unwell. Hope they are better and that nothing else will happen to prevent their coming.

We are all usually well. Stephen has got nearly through his harvest and would have finished last week had not we had rain. We had no rain in June or July till the last day of July and then it rained four days. The rain has soaked down to the potato hills, and we may have potatoes. The prospect has been that we should not have corn or potatoes, but now they are beginning to look up and we may have [enough] for our own use. The oats are not good. Some are not worth harvesting. We can well say we have had a drought now, but not a beginning to what you had [in 1860]. People began to be frightened. They said if the rain had held off one week more, we should not have corn or potatoes. And now the crops will be light.

We hear that Grove [Pike] is getting better [and] that he can use his limbs some, but cannot walk yet. The draft takes place here the 5th of September. I do not care to have James [Goodrich] come home till after that time, but I do not know as it will make any difference about Stephen’s being drafted if he should come, but it may. We cannot let Stephen go.

I want to say something to you about the woodlot. Jack Goodrich wants to buy it and will give 25 dollars an acre. He will buy part or the whole and pay down. Now several years ago Aunt Mary sold off 4 acres of hers to John Dye for 24 dollars an acre. Our money is not worth half as much as it was then, and the land is worth as much. Wood is very high – four to five dollars a cord. Stephen bought him a pair of boots last week [and he] paid $5.50 for them. Mr. Thomas told him he might have them for a 20-shilling gold piece. That is the difference between good and bad money. And if Jack Goodrich gets that wood lot, I do not think that he would sell it for less than 50 dollars an acre. Stephen wants to buy one share and could pay 200 dollars down. James Goodrich has money and if he would buy Ralph out – if Ralph wants the money – I think it best to do so. If you see James [Goodrich], I wish you would talk with him about it. That land is rising in value every year. Stephen could get enough off of it to pay the taxes so it need be no expense to him, and in time, if he does not have to go to the war, he might buy the whole or someone else would. A good many want it. Or if Ralph does not want the money, it could be as it is now, Stephen could buy Augusta’s share or let her have money for what she wants. I wish you would write to some of your friends and see what they think about it – [such as your brother] Samuel or Mr. D. Taylor. Mr. Warring is a great friend of Jacks and used to be of yours. He might do something for you. Mr. D. Taylor would like the land himself. All these that want it, want to get it as cheap as they can. You know we are all selfish, but I do think that if it can be kept in the family, it ought to be. We have written to James and Ralph but have not heard from them in some time. If they get our letters, I should think they would write to us. I have written a long letter and have tried to tell you as plain as I can about your land. If James has no use for his money, this land is better than interest in money. I hope you will see him and let him read this. We shall expect to see you when you come for Augusta, or don’t you know [if you will come to get her] yet.

It is time to get ready for church. Goodbye, -- [your mother-in-law, Mary Ann Goodrich]  

Seneca [Kansas]
August 13, 1864

My Dearest [Augusta],

I am here in Seneca at Mr. [John H.] Peckham's. I came back from the [Missouri] river last evening and found the people here full of excitement owing to the great depredations made on this route through to Denver by Indians and bushwhackers. If a quarter is true, it's bad enough. Fifty men started from here yesterday morning, mounted on horses. Every company in the County is ordered out and we are now in Seneca ready to go. I am so glad that you started when you did. I.E. If you are only safe home. Oh how often I have thought of you and the boys and could imagine a thousand things with regard to your journey. If you are well and had good luck, I suppose you are at home this morning. The mails have stopped. I shall be bothered to hear from you, but shall be full of anxiety until I do.

It may be that we shall not see an Indian and may be back in a few days. We are ordered for ten days. They report that every rancher has been riddled and the people killed clear through to Denver. But who knows. I presume much mischief has been done as the stages merely escaped a gang of Indians that chased them and the passengers report many murders. The reports are so very various or I would give particulars. I will write you again if I get time whilst at Marysville. My love to the boys. Oh how much Pa wants them to be good boys, obey their Mother, and help Grandma a great deal. Pa will very often think of them and will be always glad to hear that they are good. Tell Johnny to read every day and both of them to remember their little prayers and be good boys. Oh how I would like to know how & where you are this morning. I found everything all right at home. Sister Jones is worried about her husband. Send your letters to [our home in ] Lincoln [Kansas]. I hope to be back [there] soon. Tell me about your journey [to Owego] and how the children behaved. My love to all my friends and a kiss to my beloved and the boys. As ever your dear husband, -- James

Owego [New York]
August 14, 1864

My dear husband [James],

I know you are anxious to hear how and where we are. We arrived safely [in Owego] Saturday noon [August 13th], but so tired. I have been resting & slept well last night, but feel weak and bad still. I was so completely exhausted and my hand trembles so I can scarcely write. And my head is whirling just as it always does after riding in the [railroad] cars. But I think I shall feel all right with a few days rest. They are going to get the washing done for them & me so I will not have that to do.

The boys think it is fine – nuts and apples all they want. They wish papa could have some. [My sister] Sarah is not very well [but] the rest are usually well. [Your brother-in-law] Grove [Pike] is getting better. Mr. Thomas White died last night – only sick a few days with lung fever. I will only write a few lines now and one day during the week write all about our trip.

Sister Willis said she would write to you from Danville [Illinois]. Hope she did. We parted at Quincy. Only one conductor charged me $2.15 for [our son] John. The rest said nothing. We had to buy eatables &c. and in all I spent $4.10.

I will write more particularly soon. Hope you will keep well. I want to hear from you very much. All send love. Ever your affectionate wife, -- Augusta

Camp on Rose Creek away West of civilization
August 17, 1864

My dear Wife [Augusta],

I understand that a messenger starts in a few moments for Seneca and General Sherry says I can send a line in. I am well. Have seen several antelopes but no buffalo or wild Indians as yet. Several of our men have been quite sick. Mr. [Charles C.] Coffinberry [3] we would not think would live at one time [but now] he is better. Tomorrow we start for White Rock Creek on the Republican [River] where the Chiannes have been in camp for some time, and are suspected of having committed depredations. They number about 2600 and I am expecting to see quite a time. Oh how much I would like to hear from you and the precious ones that call me pa. May the Lord keep you safely. Soon as I return – should the Lord preserve my life – I will give you something of the particulars of the expedition. The messenger is about to start. Ever your husband, -- James

Owego [New York]
August 18, 1864

My dear husband [James],

I promised to write you again this week and will try and fulfill it although I can hardly find the time. We have to talk so much. All are well. I was very tired and could not have traveled many hours longer, but I feel rested and well. Only my head keeps dizzy. The first night after I came I took a good dose of pills and some also the next day.

After the [railroad] cars started that morning we left you [at St. Joseph], I began to feel stronger, although my stomach felt bad. Where they stopped to breakfast, I got out and bought some nice beefsteak & it relished well & did me good. We reached Quincy [Illinois] I should think about five o’clock and went right on the cars & at five or a little after the next morning we were in Chicago. The conductor from Quincy saw the children & said I must pay $2.15 [for a third child] to Galesburg [Illinois]. I thought I would have to do that way with every conductor. A man behind me saw the performance & said it was too bad. He took John and let him sleep on his seat & the next conductor never said a word or any after. I kept Willie & Mary in my seat & John with someone else either right in front or opposite me. The children behaved very well & do pretty well now.

At Chicago we only waited a few minutes – long enough for the baggage to come & be rechecked & we were off again at six in the morning. Friday morning it was warm and tedious all day & all night. We changed cars at nine in the evening at Cleveland. The children were all asleep but a kind man helped me. [He] carried Mary & a satchel [while] I pulled the sleepy boys along. Few were in our car & he put Willie in one seat & John in another right in front of me. And so they slept all night long.

They do not connect at Dunkirk but go on to Buffalo, which place we reached just after daylight Saturday morning & left for Hornellsville some 20 minutes after getting to the Depot, which was near the one we stopped at. I took a seat on the side of the cars [facing] towards our old home and after leaving Waverly had my handkerchief & glass ready. I looked along for familiar places but saw none & we never stopped again, it being the Express [train]. I thought we were a long time getting to Pipe Creek which place I expected to know, but all at once the conductor sang out, “Owego” and there I had come right by home in daylight & did not know it. I felt out of patience with myself. [My brother] Steve had been over in the night and day before & had not gone that time. They thought if I was on [the train] I would wave a handkerchief & Steve would go right over [to the Owego Depot and pick up up]. I saw Mr. Smith & he spoke to Charles Nealy who said Steve was not there. He saw a boy who had worked for Steve & was coming over on the road & he sent word to our folks. The boy ran all the way over & Steve ran all the way back & was there in short order, & George came over with the horse and carriage. They have bought a one horse covered carriage second hand & it is very easy for Ma. They gave $80.00 for it.

We went down to see [my sister] Mary Horton yesterday and while we were gone, [your sister] Permelia called. She & Mr. Brooks are spending a few days here and they are coming here tomorrow. [My sister] Sarah & the children & myself went up to call at your mother’s Monday afternoon. They were well. [Your sister Mary’s husband,] Grove [Pike,] is getting so as to walk some & [your brother] Samuel is better [too]. All enquire about you & all ask if you are not coming. I tell them yes.

Ma has had a letter from [my brother] James. He was at Leavenworth [Kansas] waiting to be discharged [from the service] and would not come home yet awhile. Have you heard what is the reason [your sister] Mrs. [Clarissa] Giddings did not come? How are all? Give my love to all inquirers. Your letter from St. Joseph has come. 

The draft is to be soon and I fear [my brother] Steve will have to go. I do not see any other chance. Hope your camp meeting will be well attended to night being the first. Ever your true wife, -- Augusta

Owego [New York]
August 21, 1864

My dear husband [James],

If it is as cool with you today as here, it will be uncomfortable on the campground. I think of you often and wonder how things are moving along and how you get along alone, and if you get much lonesome. We are well. Ma and [my sister] Sarah have gone to church. I did not feel like going.

[Our daughter] Mary is a good baby and will go from me to her Uncle Steve any time. He plays with her a great deal and she holds out her hands and cries to go to him whenever she sees him coming. The boys do very well and we get along finely. All feel worried and anxious about the draft, which is to come off soon. Few substitutes are to be had and they can get from $700 to $1,000. And if [my brother] Steve is drafted, he will have to go & I do not know what they could do without him. He cannot get clear from having a widowed mother, as she is not dependent upon him.

I have called at your mother’s and spent an afternoon at our Mary’s but have not felt like going anywhere else. We have had some company and calls. Mr. [Asa] Brooks and [his wife] Permelia came just at night Thursday and stayed until bedtime. They had to start early Friday morning for home. They live 33 miles from here and will come up again when you come unless you can go there. They look very natural & do not seem to grow old as fast as we have. He says if he is drafted, he will have to go. I shall look for your folks down this week.

Lucy Fiddis has had a fine time at the White Mountains & is in Hartford [Connecticut] now & returns this week & Uncle [Elizur Goodrich] is coming too & will stay a few days.

Ma had a letter from [my brother] Ralph yesterday. He cannot come home this fall. He is in the grocery business & doing very well. It agrees with him better than teaching. That, he said, was killing him by inches. James Goodrich wrote to Ma from Leavenworth. They were there waiting to be mustered out and paid – and not very well. Perhaps he will go to Lincoln [Nemaha County, Kansas to visit you]. If he does, remember his clothes that are in a roll in that large trunk, and that order from Father Winans in the tin can.

They have had a letter from [your sister] Mrs. Giddings. She [did not come home to Owego because she] was afraid of the bushwhackers [in Missouri] & wrote that if I came, I had more courage than she.

[Colonel] Isaac Catlin [of the 109th New York Regiment] has lost a leg [while leading a charge at the Battle of the Crater near Petersburg]. Rebel prisoners go by on the [railroad] cars [behind our home] often. A great many [of the prisoners] are in Elmira. [See Elmira Prison Camp for more information.]

It looks so pleasant here now. The trees have grown so much and Mr. Benjamin Stiles’ house looks well close by. This street is very pleasant indeed. You must come and see them all. I cannot go back alone, & James Goodrich may not come, and I want you should surely come. Did you find John’s other shoe? [My brother] Steve had to give two dollars for him [to get] a new pair [of shoes]. They go barefooted. Everyone says they are healthy looking boys.

Monday morning. All well. Give my love to all inquirers. I hope to hear from you soon. Ever yours, -- Augusta.

I think we shall keep them this winter, -- Mother [Goodrich].

Lincoln [Kansas]
August 23, 1864

My Dear Augusta,

I am happy to tell you that I am at home again safe and sound – with the exception of a cankered sore mouth and a worn out wearied body -- after such a long forced march [both] night and day. But am much disappointed in reaching home and not hearing a single word from you. Obtained a letter from Mother Goodrich dated August 7th and mailed [on] the 8th -- the very day we started from here. And you don’t know how anxious I am to hear from you. Imagination ever busy brings quickly before my mind a thousand things with reference to what may be your fate and how you may be among strangers. What a tiresome tedious trip you must have had even should you have succeeded in reaching [Owego]. I have tried to command your case to the kind oversight of Him who neither slumbers or sleeps; also our precious treasures. It must be something will come in the mail today. I sent my horse with a person today after [the mail] but it's too long in getting here. I have written you three times since you left. [They were mostly] short scrawls with a pencil which you have probably received before this and [now] know something [about] where I have been and how [I have been] employed. Yet I can only say that the half has never been told, nor can be. I will [now] try to give you some idea of our Indian expedition.

After bidding you farewell [at St. Joseph], I arrived back to Seneca about dark Friday evening and found the town full of excitement. The stages had been stopped on the Overland Route to Denver and all emigration that could escape was making a general stampede eastward owing to the fact that the Indians were burning the ranches and murdering men, women, and children indiscriminately as far along on the route as could be heard from. You may know or guess something of the feeling aroused among the settlers all through this section of the country. An order was issued by General [Byron] Sherry, the commandant of this district, that all the militia in Washington, Nemaha, and Brown Counties should at once come armed and equipped and proceed to ferret out these Indians and punish them for their audacity. I was informed the next morning that I must be ready at 8 o’clock to go also. I had no faith in the expedition or reports and [consequently] took no outfit whatever, not even a blanket, but wore [only] my thin black coat. It was expected that all who had horses would go mounted. Mine were so tired and worn out [from taking you and the children to the train depot in St. Joseph that] they were wholly unfit to go. So with many others we were taken in wagons.

After getting to Seneca I found surely the expedition was to be a reality. [Once] there, we took provisions for five or six days for men & horses, and about noon we started. We went about 2 miles out of town for dinner. Here commenced the soldier’s life. We had fried bacon, some flour and salt mixed with water and made into a sort of dough [which we] fried in fat. [This,] together with some hot coffee, constituted our dinner. We drove on to the Vermillion about 15 miles and camped for supper. Here was a repetition of our dinner fare with the exception of roast corn. I slept in a wagon with a blanket over me.

Next morning we started very early and reached Marysville about 9 o’clock where we camped for breakfast. Here we found every house overflowing with men, women, and children who had fled from their home in the frontier counties and sought asylum here. After breakfast we went on about nine miles farther and camped for dinner, which took until about four o’clock. We saddled then and went on about ten miles farther on the Denver road where we learned that the Indians – after committing their depredations – had gone south and that their place of rendezvous was probably on the White Rock River, a branch of the Republican [River] some fifty or sixty miles to the southwest from where we then were. So our commander obtained guides and struck out over the broad prairie for the Indian’s camp, if he could find it. After going some distance, we came to the Little Blue [River], a fine stream, very swift and clean with good bottom.

After passing through the timber on the opposite side [of the Little Blue River], we found where a large company of Indians had camped. We ascertained that they were some of the Otoe Tribe who had been out on a hunt. We passed on through a delightful tract of country and came to Mill Creek late in the afternoon of Monday where after coming about thirty miles, we camped for the night. With eight others, it had come [my] turn to stand guard for the night. It was my first effort and such a night I pray to never experience again! It commenced raining about dark and such a rain! It reminded me of the shower when Brother [Charles W.] Giddings was at our house at a certain time. My turn came at eleven and it fairly poured. Scarcely a man in the whole command but what was wet to the skin. Oh how glad was I to have the morning come and with it came a dispersion of the clouds and prospects of better weather. A large pile of wood was collected together and set on fire and as many as could stood around trying to dry themselves. Soon as we could dry our things and get our breakfast – muddy and slippery as it was – we started on and traveled all day about 25 miles 10 miles before dinner.

Then we left timber and went out on a broad expanse of prairie toward Rose Creek. The team and men were tired. The General, with his advance [party], traveled so fast that the command lost sight of him. Night came on and it began again to rain and was very dark. The men became bewildered and halted for the night. They hitched their horses out to grass and [being] exhausted, dropped down in the grass for sleep. After remaining in the rain about three hours, they were aroused by the voice of their general… Fearing the men might not find the way [to the camping place on Rose Creek] he had [returned to lead them [but not before] wandering about for three hours [in the dark. After he] finally came on them by accident, he ordered the horses saddled, teams hitched and [called for an] immediate march saying he would guide [them] to the camp. But he got turned around, wandered with his men around on the prairie some 10 miles further than necessary and early next morning came driving into camp. Here is where we halted over a day for rest and where I wrote my last letter to you. The next morning we started for the Republican [River], but I will leave the remainder until my next [letter].

We, of course, had no camp meeting. Brother Taylor is now at our house very sick. We have just sent [to Centralia] for Dr. [John S.] Hidden. [1] He has the cramp colic. He has been sick since Sunday. Now thirteen days since I saw you and bade you farewell. I almost dread to hear from you and yet should be glad to know the worst. Can it be that you are sick among strangers and no one to care for you or the children? Oh I shall rest better I hope after I hear. My love to all.

Ever your affectionate husband – J. S. Griffing

Lincoln [Kansas]
August 27, 1864

My Dear Cutie [Augusta],

After seventeen mortal days had elapsed from the time I kissed you and my precious ones goodbye at the [St. Joseph] depot, I have received a letter from you. It has brought a great relief to my mind. I expect that the first letter you wrote has never reached me, which accounts for the long time in getting word from you. I was truly glad to hear of your safe arrival [in Owego] and to know of you getting along so well under the circumstances. It is impossible for you to inquire how many casualties and difficulties I had fixed for you all along the way, but am so glad that they have all proved bogus.

A letter from [your brother] Ralph came [at the same time as] your letter, which I will enclose with this. I expect probably [your brother] James [is mustered out of the service and] is at Topeka now. I hope to get to see him when I go down, which I expect to do in two or three weeks. And if he does not reenlist, shall try and persuade him to come east when I do if he does not come before. Brother Taylor is a little better this morning. He has taken no nourishment all this week long but a little gruel and has been a great sufferer. [The] neighbors have been kind in bringing in things, and sister Taylor does the cooking. Sister [Nancy B.] Jones received a letter from her husband [Luther] last evening. He was alive August 7th, but most of the depredations have happened since.

In my last [letter], I was going from Rose Creek over to the Republican [River]. Much of this is quite broken prairie running in ridges and terraces and large plateaus. Here we begin to see the buffaloes – at first three or four in different places, occasionally an antelope or deer. As we get over within eight or ten miles of the Republican bottoms, the droves increase in size. They look with wonder at our cavalcade. Soon some of the soldiers start around a big drove and rush them direct toward the line of soldiers. Oh me, what excitement! On they come until within about fifty rods, when they turn an angle and move off a few yards ahead of us. Several shots were fired [at them] but none of them effectual. Then commenced a grand buffalo hunt. The idea was to get the yearlings. These they would separate from the main herd, form a sort of corral around them and shoot them with revolvers. About half a dozen or more were killed. The buffalo can run faster and longer than I had any idea of. Their gait when running is a cantor, which they will keep for miles without apparent fatigue in the hottest weather and then their number seems beyond all computation. They have no disposition to fight except [when] wounded and brought to bay. Then look out! Their eyes look like balls of fire, their tongues protrude from their mouths, and they seem to say, “Come one, come all. This rock shall fly from its firm base as soon as I.”

About two o’clock we reached the banks of the Republican, worn and weary, greasy and dirty. I thought what a luxury a good bath would be. So soon as I could, I thought I would steal away by myself and take a good bath in the swift flowing water. Vain thoughts! I no sooner reached the water’s edge than I found numbers sharing the luxury ahead of me. I waded the stream and found it only about waist deep. The river there was about a hundred yards in width with quick sand bottom. Our guide told me that about five miles up in a bend of the river there was a town of prairie dogs which I wanted to see, but did not like the risk of going alone. The width of the river flats is greater than the Kansas near Topeka – probably about four miles.

I ought to have said that whilst on the buffalo chase up on the ridges, our General Sherry lost his horse as also did Mr. [Charles G.] Scrafford and a man named [Isaac] Ferguson which stampeded with the buffaloes. Ferguson’s [horse] was caught the next day by men detailed to look for them. The others were running with all their might when last seen and are yet for all I know. It was a great joke on the horses and saddles. Some Indians will probably find them all ready for use.

Scouts were sent out to prospect for Indians in the country about, but none were to be found, so we concluded to strike northward toward the scene of depredations. We passed over a high divide between the Republican [River] and Elk Creek and camped about two o’clock on the big road about 120 miles west of Marysville near Comstock ranch. We found the ranch burnt. The burnt bones of two men were found who were consumed in a smoke house. General desolation rained. In a small building near[by], we found a man with [his] head severed from his body. I looked about to try and find some Indian arrows but could not. Those who know say that the different tribes of Indians are known by the shape of the arrows, and all that have been found are arrows of the Cheyenne’s. We found all the ranches burnt over a distance of some forty or fifty miles, and it is reported that all are burnt as far as Fort Kearney. How far beyond, we know not. [It is also reported] that some 34 persons are known to be killed, and how many more is unknown. After arriving at Big Sandy, we learned that there had been an engagement between the troops from [Fort] Kearney aided by some militia with the Indians on Elk Creek, and that our command [had] passed within ten miles of the whole Indian camp. They are reported from five to seven thousand strong fighting men on fleet horses, and many around with Enfield rifles which they have taken from the trains. If they had given us fight, we should probably have been cut to pieces as we were all raw militia with untrained horses and they must be strong or would not be so bold. [Go to Indian raid at Oak Grove Ranch for a description of this event.]

We had about consumed our rations and were glad enough to find our destination homeward for reinforcements with whole scalps. Unless compelled, I shall endeavor to avoid another just such a trip. We all thought it fortunate we did not find the Indians, notwithstanding our boldness.

Dear, please write twice a week if possible. Have Johnny read often. Tell him to be a good boy and help grandma all he can. Please kiss them all for pappa. Have the boys remember their little prayers and especially remember Pappa have hopes to come and see them one of these days. My love to all enquiring ever your affectionate husband, -- James

P. S. Don’t forget those photographs. Watch what money you have and don’t let it slip away too easily. How much have you? I found Johnny’s other shoe under the wagon next morning [so] keep the one you have. The agent at the railroad said your ticket would be good for a month. You had better see to it and either sell or use your remaining ticket before that time.

P.S. The command was composed of about 250 men. General Sherry’s horse – a $200 one – was later picked up by soldiers way down near Fort Riley.[2]

Lincoln [Kansas]
August 27, 1864

Dear Bro. [Henry K.] Winans,

In looking over my papers to day I found the within note from my wife to yours which fairly commits me to writing to you. It's a good thing to have a wife ain't it to keep us from sinking away into the land of forgetfulness, and make us open our mouths and speak to each other whether we will or not. Well mine is gone and I can talk just as I choose without any fear of the dishcloth or certain lectures. Yet for all, I miss her everywhere, and my little boys, for all they are so mischievous and ugly too sometimes. The ansence of their racket seems to surround me with a moral desolation. Oh how very [awful] that all sounds -- the echo of my exaggerated [foot]fall as I pace back and forth in my studio trying to forget that i am alone. [Augusta] started for home the Monday, 8th inst., arrived at St. Louis the 11th, and reached her mother's Saturday afternoon. She was taken quite unwell on her way to the [Missouri] river and we were obliged to stop nearly a day. And she looked so feeble and sickly when she took her seat in the cars that I hated to have her go on, and you may be assured that I was full of anxiety until I heard from her. She reached [her mother's] home [in Owego, New York] safely and I trust is enjoying herself right well.

The great excitement through this part of Kansas the past three weeks far exceeds anything in the past and on its account I have been glad my wife is gone. The very day I reached home from the river, I found the militia of our county together with Marshall & Washington [County's] were under order to have immediate readiness to go out and fight the Indians who were reported to be robbing trains, driving off cattle & mules, and burning ranches & killing the inhabitants all along the Government road from Marysville to Denver. Being one of the militia, of course I was under marching orders too, and as I never had fought any, I thought I might as well try my hand on Indians as anybody. So with the shortest notice, I had my gun and fell right into line. With scanty supplies and no outfit, we were put on a forced march until we reached 47 miles from here or 17 beyond Marysville. We found the town of Marysville full of men, women & children who had fled there from the settlements west for an asylum. We found that although there was much exaggeration, yet many had been killed, hundreds of cattle driven off, and many ranches burnt and that the Indians had driven their cattle & mules South and were probably camped in large numbers on White Rock Stream, a southern tributary of the Republican [River], about 50 miles from where we were. We immediately turned our course over the prairies south, procured guides and went our way where we hoped to find Indians. After surmounting the greatest obstacles, we finally reached the Republican [River], scouted every where but found no Indians. Our General [Sherry] lost his horse making a charge on some buffaloes as well as some two or three others. We then...[page missing].

Please write soon. Direct to Lincoln, Nemaha Co., Kansas

[James S. Griffing] 

           
Letter from James S. Griffing to Henry K. Winans dated August 27, 1864
Kansas State Historical Society

Owego [New York]
August 28, 1864

My dear husband [James],

Your letter written at Seneca and one from camp on Rose Creek reached me the past week – one Tuesday, the other yesterday. I was so sorry to hear that you & your [militia] company had been called out, but truly hope you will all return safely. I heard soon after I came here that the Indians were doing a great deal of mischief but never once thought of your being called out until your letter came. It has worried me ever since but I hope the Indians have left and I shall feel very anxious to hear again from you. You were not well [when we left] and I fear this trip will be too much for you, even if you have no Indians to fight. I would like to know the particulars. How the Lincoln [Nemaha County, Kansas] people must feel to have their husbands gone. I feel sorry for you all. When the camp meeting day came round, I saw you all there in [my] imagination, little dreaming where you in reality were. This trip has broken in upon your plan considerably, but I trust you will return safely.

Here we are feeling bad about the draft as there is but little chance of [my brother] Steve’s escaping. Uncle [Elizur Goodrich] came last Wednesday morning and expects to start back [to Hartford, Connecticut] early tomorrow morning. We have had a good visit with him. If [my brother] Steve should not be drafted & Ma is well enough, she may go to Connecticut with me.

Your mother and [your sister] Mary and her baby & [your niece] Mary Kelly & Grove [Pike] came here Wednesday & spent the day. Aunt Ruth came down to call after dinner & about three o’clock Uncle & Aunt Lucy came. Mary Kelly is in a store or saloon in New York City and had a vacation & is up on a visit. Julia is with Ann at Springport. She has adopted her. Ann Kelly is in Pennsylvania somewhere.

Lucy [Fiddis] has returned from her trip and spent an afternoon here with Uncle [Elizur], [my sister] Mary & [her husband] Gurd [Horton]. Uncle [Elizur] & [my brother] Steve have taken two horseback rides. The first time they went down to Mary’s and around the “square” [in Owego] as they call it, up on to Catlin hill, and around by our back wood lot to look at that and down the Glen Mary hill. And yesterday they went over the [Susquehanna] River. Uncle [Elizur] enjoyed it very much indeed. He tells Steve to buy all of the wood lot and not let it go out of the family. Wood is very high with the prospect of being higher. Ma thinks if the boys only knew how valuable it was they would not sell it yet awhile. He will lend Steve four or five hundred [dollars] if he can to help buy it. It is good property. Stephen talks of taking me to Newfield [New York] this week. I have not visited any about here yet, but if he is drafted, he cannot of course take me anywhere and wants to go there.

Tuesday morning. All well but [our] little Mary. For a week one of those large blood boils has been coming on her other leg and is much worse than the other & has not broken yet. She is very fretful & they do not wonder when they see the great swelling. [My sister] Sarah says she hopes you are home safely by this time. John loves to hear your letters read. Give love to all. We think & talk of you often. I cannot help but feel worried and anxious about you but hope you are safe. With a kiss & much love from your absent wife, -- Augusta

Lincoln [Kansas]
August 31, 1864

My Dear Cutie [Augusta],

I was right glad to receive two letters from you last evening -- the first one you wrote and the third. The irregular mails have caused me a great deal of anxiety and I suppose my letters to you have produced some anxiety on your part.

I am alone again this morning, almost the first time since I returned from the “war.” Brother Taylor was able to leave Monday evening and drove down to Brother Knipe’s camp meeting, arriving there before it broke Tuesday morning. Last evening, Brother McLaughlin stayed with me – a young preacher stopping in Seneca for the present who, with another, was sent by the church to Idaho. [He was] unable to go [farther] because of the stopping of the stages. [4]

Went down in Brother Taylor’s place to the meeting and drove down Brother Taylor’s buggy. Soon as Brother Taylor was well enough, he took my buggy and went on and Brother McLaughlin brought it back. I have been trying to get the Elder to let Brother McLaughlin have my work the rest of the year and let me go East and visit my friends, but Brother McLaughlin seems to think it just a providential opening for him to go and visit his friends. But Brother Taylor says I can have a month for this purpose after awhile. When do you think it had better be? As we have had no camp meeting, as a consequence, we had no quarterage as is usual at such times. I am not trying to keep house but eat my meals about among my neighbors, a week at a place. This was a proposition of theirs and it suits me right well.

That old hen we thought was caught by the wolves came out from the post pile a few days ago with a brood of eight. I have shut them up in the coop and feeding them but I think you will need to come on in time to knit them some stockings. The other chickens are growing finely. The mice are getting quite thick around again and I am afraid will do much mischief. I try to watch against them and shall try the strychnine if they get much worse.

I finished a letter to Henry K. Winans yesterday in which I enclosed yours to [his wife] Carrie. Last night one came from Sister Dennis which I will enclose to you. Brother Taylor says Levin B. Dennis has resigned his Bible Agency and intends to join one of the Iowa conferences. I am sorry. The church in Kansas will miss him.

How does it seem back home? How many years were [you] behind the times? How are you pleased with the manners & customs of society? Has there been a pro or retrogression in what tends really to make Society cheerful and inviting? Is solid worth or the latest cut of one’s coat the best recommend one can have? How is it at church? And how does the preaching there compare with here away from home? Please tell all about these things. Sawyer Avery has received two letters from his mother. She spoke of leaving you better. Says it is very sickly where she is and that she starts for Ohio this week. Sister Sly has a sister named E. J. Skinner living at North Java, Wyoming County, New York near the road running from Dunkirk to Buffalo who wants to come west with company and she would be glad to have her come with you. Says she would be a first-rate hand to help you with the children. This would be a good arrangement if anything happens so I cannot come on [to join you]. Are you improving in health? And how are my jewels? Don’t forget to have Johnny read everyday. Try and keep him busy at something useful. Don’t let him go near the railroad. Please write soon -- James

Lincoln [Kansas]
August 31 [1864]

My Boys, Willie & John,

Pa wants every time Ma writes to hear that you are good boys. It will make Pa feel so well away so far from you. You must help Ma & Grandma & [Aunt] Sarah & Uncle Stephen all you can and not do a wrong thing for the world. You may both of you kiss little sister for Pa and try to please her all you can when Ma is busy. Johnny must be very kind to his brother Willie. Try and teach him how to read and play with him very prettily about the yard. And when the hickory nuts and apples ripen, no doubt your Uncle Stephen will let you assist in gathering them. If Pa can, he will be very glad to come on before you come home again and I guess [our dog] Dan would like to see you. When I go out of a morning, he still looks toward the door as if to ask, "Why where is Johnny & Willie?"  Dan is a good dog. He stayed at home and watched Pa's chickens whilst he went to the war, only leaving as I do now to get his meals. From your Pa.

wjgriffing@comcast.net