ust 11th. This morning we passed several lighthouses; one was upon
Tortugas Island.

August 12th. The old steamer was making good speed. Comrade Chadwick
died last night; this morning he was buried at sea. He was a member of
our regiment and enlisted from Andover, this state.

August 13th. This morning was very fine, but the ship rolled and
pitched considerable, owing to being in the Gulf Stream.

August 14th. The old ship was making good speed and we were hoping to
get into New York harbor by Saturday night, as it was getting pretty
tiresome on the old filthy vessel, with the vermin almost unbearable.

August 15th. This was a beautiful day and the old steamer continued
making good time.

August 16th. The day was fine and we expected to get into port at night
and our expectations were realized, about seven o'clock after being in
this dirty place for a whole week.

August 17th. We arrived in port last night but had to stay upon the
ship another night. I managed to get a small loaf of bread and if I
remember correctly, I wasn't long devouring it, for we had had nothing
but hard-tack and raw salt pork to eat and condensed water to drink
since we went aboard the ship at New Orleans. This (Sunday) morning we
were allowed to go ashore and were kept penned up till about night when
we went aboard the good-looking old boat, City of Hartford. We arrived
in Hartford, if my memory serves me correctly, at about 10 o'clock
Monday morning, August 18th, 1863, and I guess we were about as tough a
looking set of fellows as ever came off the boat. Yes, I must admit, we
were a pretty hard looking set, what there was left of us, for we had
dwindled down to less than one-third the number which left Hartford
about a year previous. What a change had come over us. Why, some of our
friends didn't know us, we had changed so. One comrade in particular I
will mention, Wm. Goodrich. He went from Glastonbury in my company. He
was a big fine looking man, weighing two hundred and fifty pounds when
we went away, and when he came home he hardly weighed one hundred and
fifty. Was it any wonder that our friends couldn't recognize us with
the beards we had grown on our faces, and the soiled clothing we were
wearing? Well, I finally reached home and you can imagine how glad I
was. I think that I felt much as the Prodigal Son did when he returned
home. To get my clothes off and get into a good bed, (which I had not
done for about a year) and to be cared