8 September 1863

Albert Bancroft directed this letter to his sister Myra Bancroft in Shortsville, Ontario county, New York.

Plymouth, North Carolina
September 8, 1863

Dear Sister Myra,

Yours of the 23rd came to hand last night and found me trying to be sick but nothing serious. What made you write I had made up my mind that you had forgot there ever was such a person as A. H. B.? But seeing that you wrote, I will answer it.

There is next to nothing here to write about. It is one thing over and over again. Raids on the gunboats and picket and camp guard — and once in awhile the 17th North Carolina comes down and shoots a cavalryman or two and we chase them up but have not had much luck catching them. I feel proud of the brave men left at home. How their war cry will send terror to the traitors’ hearts. Do their ma’s go with them when they pay their $300? And do they venture out alone after dark? And it is so sickly North now. Nearly all have some standing disease — poor things. Who will raise the bread and dinner? But it is alright, I suppose. We are a poor set and might as well be killed as a nice young man. But things are going along finely and the end may be near. But I hope the draft will go on. Uncle Sam will get some cash if not men.

I heard from Willie. Tip, Nate, and family, Wheeler and family. They were all well. Willie is as ready as ever to come. My word would fetch him right along. I do not think he will be drafted but if he is, let him come like a man. But I must draw this to a close.

The fleas came all safe and would send one back if I could put it in a letter. Write so that I can fetch it home after the war. From A. H. Bancroft

Plymouth, North Carolina
September 8, 1863

Miss Hattie,

According to your request, I gave your love to the good-looking boys and they had a fight about dividing it. Do not do so again. It was awful. But about Myra, it is high time there was something done for her. Then she really has to be sat up with. Poor girl. I pity her. But soft words and tender lines are good in such cases. As to the best way of getting rid of him, say conscript or draft and dare say he will be minus.

But it is mail time and I do not feel very well. Please let me know if Myra gets worse. I will send you a leaf from one of Gen. [James Johnston] Pettigrew’s almanacs. Excuse this and write when you please.

— A H. Bancroft


¹ C. S. A. Gen. J. Johnston Pettigrew led the tarheels at Gettysburg but he was shot during the retreat while recrossing the Potomac into Virginia and died two days later. Pettigrew’s plantation was not far from Plymouth, North Carolina.