Our correspondence.
Camp De Sote, near Cockletown, Yorkco., Sept. 7, 1861.
It has been nearly two months, I think, since any member of our regiment has troubled your readers with a line upon any subject.
We have been so deeply interested in the events about Manassas that we were not at all disposed to call attention from that spot towards which both the citizen and stranger henceforth shall travel, and of which the muses shall sing in the coming centuries.
But my object in dropping you a line to-day, is one of utility rather than entertainment.
Day before yesterday, at one o'clock, our regiment broke up camp near Williamsburg, where we had remained so long as to have dispatched with the wash basin for ‘"the tray"’ as well as the ‘"bread basket,"’ and exchanged uncups for granite China coffee cups, and had so much to eat and to spare that rats and mice had become regular occupants.
We had also allowed chickens the liberty of quitting their narrow coops to and wander over the fields.
The boys in our company, instead of cooking their own bread and doing their own washing, have, in many cases, regular cooks and washers at the negro quarters, and it was really touching just before we took up the line of march, while our company was standing in line before their late quarters, now represented simply by the vacant wooden floors — it was touching.
I say, to witness the leave-taking.
The men were awaiting the roll call and leaning upon their guns, when a half dozen negro women and a very old man approached, and beginning at the head of the company, began to shake hands and call down the blessings upon the heads of ‘"my dear massa."’ ‘"Good bye, Aunt, Sally."’ was uttered by many lips with deep feeling, and when the aged woman, with the strong grasp of youth, said ‘"faresell massa,"’ I felt that natural sadness which these sad words must always excite when we know they issue for the lest time from an honest heart.
They never fail to bring before me pictures of the great future which lies before humanity.
The scene at the ‘"breaking up"’ would have been a fine subject for the painter.
The tents were all struck, leaving only the bare floors, strewed with boxes, bottles and jars, &c., &c. In the small area of our camp were 700 men, every one busy over knapsacks, barrels, wagons half loaded, and braying mules and neighing horses.
Presently the whole line, followed by 22 wagons and several ambulances, took up the line of march, and we bid adieu to fields and woods with which we had become so familiar as to speak of them with the affection of home scenes.
After a dusty and fatiguing march of thirteen miles, in a dusty road, we encamped near Yorktown, after dark.
The wagons which contained all our baggage, including the knapsacks of the men, had been delayed by the breaking down of several of them, and at 10 o'clock we had to come to the discouraging conclusion that we should spend the night upon the ground, now saturated with a heavy rain, which had fallen here a few hours before our arrival.
Building a large fire of brushwood, we lay down around it, upon wet pine branches, without a particle of covering.
If our beds had been soft, we might have slept in spite of the wet; but, unfortunately, they were composed of branches, sticks and limbs of various sizes, so that I felt on awakening, at 4 o'clock, as if I had been beat severely with a stick.
Some of the men have been complaining of cold since, but, fortunately, only a few of them.
Leaving Yorktown yesterday, after the wagons got up, (9 A. M.,) we arrived at this place about 2 o'clock and went into camp at once.
The weeds are growing luxuriously in my tent, and everything is in the greatest confusion; but in a few days we expect to be very comfortable.
Yesterday when we got here many of our men were very hungry, and a farmer near by only charged five cents apiece for biscuit of ordinary size, and twenty-five cents for a corn ash cake.
This is the spirit that pervades many if not most of the people of this action.
The farmer referred to above also refused to give the men straw to put into their tents.
Were I in command, I would teach these people a lesson they would not forget.
But for the presence of our troops he would never have made his wheat, and now he makes us pay five prices for that which our own hands have preserved.
At our last camp we paid twenty-five cents a gallon for buttermilk, (fourteen cents Richmond price), and forty cents for sweet milk, thirty-one cents for butter, twenty-five cents per dozen for corn in the ear, and twenty-five cents per dozen for eggs.
Could Yankees themselves have given us a more hospitable reception?
In New York and Pennsylvanians, were we encamped there.
I am sure we would not have to pay more, Some general order should to issued upon this subject.
The men are getting tired of if. They respect private property, and these are the returns.
I confess there are some exceptions, but I state the ‘"prices current, "’ I assure you. But I must conclude by stating what is really the object letter: to wit, that all persons sending of clothing, &c., to the Fifteenth Regiment Virginia Volunteers, must send them to Cockletown, via Yorktown.
We will endeavor to get some friend at York- town to set to the forwarding of all such articles to us. I forbear to say anything of our force here or of our plans. P. 