In the afternoon we attended church in a body, wearing our uniforms, to the wonder and astonishment of boys, but terrible to the old people.  On Monday morning we started on a march to Hartford, sleeping that night in a barn, in the eastern part of Farmington, and reaching Hartford the next day, where we joined the other companies, and all started for New London.  The first night we slept in a barn in East Hartford, and the second one in an old church in Marlboro.  I remember lying on the seat of a pew, with my knapsack under my head.  We arrived at New London on Saturday, marching the whole distance in the first week in August, and a hotter time I have never experienced since.  We were dressed in heavy woolen clothes, carrying heavy guns and knapsacks, and wearing large leather caps.  It was indeed a tedious job.  We were whole days traveling what can now be done in less than as many hours, and were completely used up when we arrived there, which would not appear strange.  We were immediately stationed on the high ground, back from the river, about half way between the city and the light-house, in plain view of the enemy’s ships.  They would frequently, when there was a favorable wind, hoist their sails and beat about in the harbor, making a splendid appearance, and practising a good deal with their heavy guns on a small American sloop, which they had taken and anchored a long distance off.  The bounding of the cannon balls on the water was an interesting sight to me.  The first night after our arrival, I was put on guard near the Light-house, and in plain sight of the ships.  I was much afraid that the sharp shooters from their barges would take me for a target and be smart enough to hit me; and a heavy shower with thunder and lightning passing over us during the night, did not alleviate my distress.  I was but a boy, only twenty years old, and would naturally be timid in such a situation, but I passed the night without being killed; it seems that was not the way that I was to die.

I soon became sick and disgusted with a soldier’s life; it seemed to be too lazy and low-lived to suit me, and, as near as I could judge, the inhabitants thought us all a low set of fellows.  I never have had a desire to live or be anywhere without I could be considered at least as good as the average, which failing I have now as strong as ever.  We not having any battles to fight, had no opportunities of showing our bravery, and after guarding the city for forty-five days, were discharged; over which we made a great rejoicing, and returned home by the way of New Haven, which was my second visit to this city.  The North and Centre Churches were then building, also, the house now standing at the North-east corner of the Green, owned then by David DeForest; stopping here over night, we pased [sic] on home to Plymouth.  I had not slept on a bed since I left home, and would have as soon taken the barn floor as a good bed.  This ended my first campaign.