s which were to be spent mostly in such a manner I should
have paid no attention whatever.

The year 1855 found me in Blakesburg, Iowa, after having lived in
Indiana during the three years following my removal from Maryland.

In 1856 occurred my marriage to Miss Eliza H. Van Cleve, and no man
could be more happily wedded. For thirty-eight years, until her recent
death, on April 13, 1894, our life was as much of a honeymoon as it is
possible for a well-mated couple to make it.

I had learned the trade of a tailor, but other employment offered more
inducements, and, on August 8, 1862, my occupation was that of
postmaster at Blakesburg, Iowa, keeping a small general store in
connection with the postoffice. On this date I enlisted with others, and
we were sworn in at our place.

Our company was organized at Ottumwa, where we went for the purpose, and
my election as first lieutenant gave me much pleasure. Here we spent
about two weeks at squad drill, having the usual experience of
beginners.

Many of the town girls had lovers, brothers and relatives in our
company, and we had many fair critics present at our drills on the south
bank of the Des Moines river. The excitement was great at the time, and
everybody seemed to be interested very much in our company. For a while
we received the criticisms of our fair guests with equanimity, but at
last we conceived the idea of turning the tables, and soon had an
opposition company so interested in their own drill that the girls gave
us some peace. Two of the boys afterwards married members of the
competing company.

We rendezvoused at Keokuk, where the 36th Iowa Infantry was finally
organized and mustered into the service of the United States on October
4, 1862, Col. Charles W. Kitredge commanding. Our boys were designated
Company B.

About November 1 the regiment went to Benton Barracks, near St. Louis,
and remained until December 20. After we were ordered to go south all
was bustle till we embarked on two steamboats and started on our voyage.

The boats were loaded to the guards with soldiers, hard tack and
coffins, the last being piled up in all available space. Said Pat Riley,
a member of our company: "Holy Jasus, byes, luk! Luk at that! Hev us ter
kerry thim ter hev 'em handy loike?"

The mute suggestion of the many coffins was not pleasant, but our boys
were hopeful, and many jokes were bandied about in consequence of their
presence.

That sail down the mighty river