Camp Harvey, Kenosha, Wis. Feb. 16^th 1862

 

Dear Wife:

                        I arrived here safely Friday night about six o'clock. Business is going on here about after the old style. The Colonel has not yet returned and we know nothing of what we shall do any more than we did one month ago.

 

            Zach looks pretty gaunt and has grown poor some since I have been gone. They say he has been very sick; but he eats good now and seems to feel good, although he coughs some yet. The "boys" seemed to be rejoiced to see me; they shouted, hurrahed, and jerked me around generally. The cakes and apples they were particularly pleased with.

 

            I have no news to write so I think I will try to give you a minute description of my adventures in geting here; but first let me say that I have nothing interesting to tell, so that unless you have time that you do not know what to do with, you would do well not to trouble yourself to read it. But it will serve to keep me busy writing a little while, so I will go on.

 

            As I stepped into the "caboose" attached to the freight train at the Fort I found myself in company with eight or ten other passengers, among which I immediately recognized lawyer Sleeper of Janesville. He knew me also and after talking with him a few minutes I seated myself to observe and listen and study human nature. Sleeper and five or six others had been at Jefferson attending court, and were full of fun concerning incidents which had just transpired in the trial of an important cause relating to the building of the Hyatt House Janesville / There were A. Hyatt Smith, a man named Williams one of the first lawyers in the State—he was employed in the Smith & Royce suit,—Andrew E Elmon of Mukwonego, the "wag of the Assembly" last winter and other lawyers whose names I do not recollect. Smith a few years ago was one of the leading men of the State—President of the N.W.R.R., proprietor of the Hyatt house, the largest building in Janesville—but now his countenance and actions plainly show that he is but the wreck of his former self—the victim of intemperance. Besides the lawsuit men, Morrison and myself there was one other passenger—Henderson of Cambridge, brother to the one that didn't buy John Curtis' horses.

 

            We arrived at Janesville at 6 o'clock. On enquiry I found that the train moved on again in two hours and a half, and that no train went early enough in the morning to connect with the Kenosha train at Harvard. I therefore concluded to go on to Harvard that night. While the train was waiting I improved the opportunity to run up Mr. Sleeper's about, I should think, one and a half miles from the depot. I walked to the door and rapped Sleeper came to door. "Good evening," said he.

 

            "Good evening, does Mr. Sleeper live here" said I seeing that he did not know me

 

            "That's my name, walk in sir, " I did so and saw that no one was in but Mrs. Sleeper

 

            "Have you a son named Edgar" said I.

 

            They both looked sharply at me, he leaned forward winked his eyes spitefully, rubbed his hand over his face vehemently and answered very slowly "Yes, but he is not at home, he's at his father-in-law's. Sit down! sit down take a chair."

 

            "Have you a son named Oscar" / Another long and excessively hard wink of the eyes and a furious rub of the face—"Yes, he is at Durand's store"

 

            "I should like to see him" said I.

 

            "What may I call your name" said he looking at me fiercely

 

            "My name is Goodrich" said I carelessly almost bursting with suppressed laughter at his odd actions which reminded me of old times.

 

            Rising to his feet and looking furiously at me then shutting his eyes tightly and distorting his features in a most horrible shape as if he were trying to swallow some bitter drug, and rubbing his hand over his face as if he meant to rub the skin all off, he said, making a long pause between each word,—

 

            "What—not—Charles—Goodrich—'s—son?"

 

            "Yes."

 

            "Why—what—which—son?"

 

            "Well now don't you know me?" said I at the same time taking off my cap and neck shawl and giving vent to my pent up laughter.

 

            "Why, it aint Perry!—yes,—well! ha! humph! how de do?"

 

            Well, I found they were all as well as usual, I had something to eat, spent an hour or more pleasantly—they seeming very glad to see me—and with their wishes for my wellfare I bade them good by and after a lively walk I arrived at the depot just in time for the cars.

 

            There were now but three passengers in the "caboose" besides the conductor and brakeman. After we were well under way we streached ourselves on the seats for a nap. After some time I awoke; the train had stopped the conductor and brakeman had gone, the fire was out and it being a very cold night I was nearly frozen. I made a fire, got warm and then started out to find out where we were / I found we were near a depot. I went there and found upon inquiry that we were at Clinton Junction 13 miles from Janesville, that it was 12 o'clock at night and that we were waiting for a freight train to come in from the west on the Racine road. We waited two hours, the train came and we took their freight cars. The load was so heavy our engine could not pull it. After bothering some time, we left two cars and then moved slowly on. We arrived at Harvard 30 miles from Janesville at 4 o'clock in the morning. Here the men who run the train took "supper." I now learned that the Kenosha road was blocked up with snow and impassable. The only way that I could get back to camp in time was to go to Chicago then up the Lake Shore Road. Well, after stopping a few minutes we again started, run about two miles, could get no further on account of snow and our heavy load. After backing up and going ahead about a dozen times they gave it up and ran back to Harvard to breakfast at 7½ o'clock. Here they left part of the train and went on with the rest. But, I am getting tired of writing and I guess you are sick of reading nonsense, so, although I have not related half that transpired on my eventful journey—said nothing about the beautiful lady that I almost, but not quite fell in love with, and a great many other things—I will wind up by saying that after being on the cars 24 hours, long enough to have ridden 500 miles, and paying out $3.50 I arrived safely in camp.

 

            Now Frank don't be provoked because this letter is not interesting, for I could'nt help it. All the time I have been writing the "boys" have been carrying on the worst kind and talking to me all sorts of stuff.

 

                                                            Your husband C.P.Goodrich

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