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Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 19. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones) 2 0 Browse Search
Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley 1 1 Browse Search
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Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, part 2.13, chapter 2.25 (search)
ne so full of energy, with such administrative power and political foresight, would find in the House of Commons an outlet for his pent — up energy. I also felt he needed men's society. We had no country home then, and to be shut up in a London house was certainly no life for Stanley; also, at the back of my mind was the haunting fear of his returning to the Congo. I thought that, once in Parliament, he would be safely anchored. At first, he would not hear of it, but his friend, Mr. Alexander Bruce, of Edinburgh, joined me in persuading Stanley to become Liberal-Unionist candidate for North Lambeth. We went into the battle just ten days before the polling day. We were quite ignorant of electioneering, and I must say we had a dreadful ten days of it. Stanley wrote in his Journal, Monday, 20th June, 1892:-- Have consented to contest the constituency of North Lambeth against Alderman Coldwells, Radical. I accepted because D. is so eager for me to be employed, lest I fly
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 19. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), Another account of the fight. (search)
it we gave them a canister. In that ditch we kept them until darkness enabled them to retreat. They left their dead on the field, which were buried on the bank of the river in a long trench. Their wounded they carried off. Some died in the depot and were burned in that building the next morning when they left in a hurry, as General W. H. F. Lee was only six hours behind them. Not one shot was fired by infantry at these troops on the western or upper side of Staunton-river bridge. Alexander Bruce and the other boys who were with me on that glorious day will bear me out as to the truth of what I have written. A pretty fight. It was the prettiest fight I ever saw. We did not have one man hurt, though several of us had holes through our clothing. At the bridge, beside Mr. Burke and Dr. Sutphin, Jack Carter, who was a farmer and lived near Mount Carmel, was killed by a shell. I have written my account of this fight as I saw it. All that has been said about that gallant old f