Browsing named entities in The Daily Dispatch: December 5, 1861., [Electronic resource]. You can also browse the collection for Lewis Johnson or search for Lewis Johnson in all documents.

Your search returned 2 results in 2 document sections:

The Daily Dispatch: December 5, 1861., [Electronic resource], Death of R. M. T. Hunter, Jr. (search)
meeting of the creditors of the late banking firm of Cairo and Nourse, shows that out of the $195,000 of indebtedness in September, 1857, $116,000 has been extinguished, leaving an existing indebtedness of nearly $90,000, independently of interest. To meet this are some 30,000 acres of agricultural lands in Indiana, Iowa, Wisconsin, &c., and other assets. The report was accepted, and the committee increased to five for future like action. The Secretary of the Treasury has appointed Lewis Johnson, Esq., agent for the Government loan in this city. The Rev. Dr. Sunderland, of the First Presbyterian Church, is quite ill at this time. In the agricultural division of the Patent Office, generally there are in the months of December, January, and February, about sixty females employed in putting up seeds for distribution in the Spring. They are paid one dollar per day for working from nine till three, and for months previous to engaging them they pour in their applications upo
The Daily Dispatch: December 5, 1861., [Electronic resource], Federal reports from Southeastern Kentucky. (search)
reasons changes year after year. I ask for those who freely give. Their hives upon the tended field, Who bleed and die that you may live Unharmed and safe; such heart a shield, A panoply for you and yours, A rampart on Potomac's shores. Is there an eye, of all I see, One eye that could undimmed remain, Or tearless at the agony Of beside on Manassas' plain, Where manly forms, defaced and torn, Caused victory herself to mourn ! She mourned with mingled smiles and tears, Apart, by stalwart Johnson's side, At gallant Bartow's dying cheers, For Bes, his country's hops and prides. Than those she wept no nobler son At Salamis or Marathon. Sick, wounded, now, on beds of pain, In dreary hospital immured, Your so' dlers seck, but seek in vain, The wonted and for ills endured; At home — the hand and voice to cheer, The loving hearts, are wanted there. Or on the watch at night they stand, Exposed to chilling dews and rain, Or march by day — a chosen band, To scout the hostile hill and plai