Poughkeepsie Eagle Nov. 14, 1862
Bolivar Heights, Va.
Sunday, Nov. 9, 1862
Dear Eagle:
I hope neither you nor my friends thought I was dead, for if so, you and they will be sadly disappointed to find I am still here - waiting for "something to turn up". I have been here now two weeks, and during that time have experienced several types of weather. I arrived here during a rain; last Sunday was as warm as a summer’s day, and at present it is as cold as December. The storm extended to us, but the snow has almost disappeared from the ground.
This morning part of this Brigade went out on a reconnaissance in force, in the direction of Charlestown. This place is where John Brown and his misguided associates expiated their crimes. We passed through it last spring. But how the country has been desolated since last May! Where our camp now stands, was part of a wood which then extended for several miles - now, the vision reaches over a cleared plain to the range of mountains in the distance; and Bolivar, then a place of some importance, is the Deserted Village of Goldsmith - if not in truth, at least in resemblance.
But Harper’s Ferry - the Mecca of the south - what can be said of it? Alas! It will never regain its pristine splendor. Like a diamond in a beautiful setting, it sat among the hills which clustered around it, the loveliest among thousands. Now ruins greet the eye, whichever way it turns; and but for the soldiers which dot the place, and the rumble of government teams, the place would seem more like a graveyard than of so much importance as the "Key of Washington" should be. When we marched up this road last May, we passed a graveyard, around which was a tasty railing. What a change has come over the scene! Every picket has disappeared, and on one of the gateposts, which still remain, some sacreligious officer has tacked an advertisement of horses for sale. Still it is used a a graveyard - not by the inhabitants of this vicinity - for there are none left - but by the army. Here lies all that is mortal of many a brave soldier, who left his home to give his life in defence of his country’s flag - not, perhaps, on the battle field, for diseases of the camp are more fatal than the shot or shell.
Yours, &c.
S.H.B. Jr.