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Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley 4 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley. You can also browse the collection for Weston Jones or search for Weston Jones in all documents.

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Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, part 1.4, chapter 1.10 (search)
hem war-mad. Then one day I heard that enlistment was going on. Men were actually enrolling themselves as soldiers! A Captain Smith, owner of a plantation a few miles above Auburn, was raising a Company to be called the Dixie Greys. A Mr. Penny Mason, living on a plantation below us, was to be the First-lieutenant, and Mr. Lee, nephew of the great General Lee, was to be Second-lieutenant. The youth of the neighbourhood were flocking to them and registering their names. Our Doctor,--Weston Jones,--Mr. Newton Story, and the brothers Varner, had enlisted. Then the boy Dan Goree prevailed upon his father to permit him to join the gallant braves. Little Rich, of Richmond Store, gave in his name. Henry Parker, the boy nephew of one of the richest planters in the vicinity, volunteered, until it seemed as if Arkansas County was to be emptied of all the youth and men I had known. About this time, I received a parcel which I half-suspected, as the address was written in a feminine h
Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, part 1.4, chapter 1.11 (search)
he Mexican War of 1847,--I did not lack tuition by suggestion. When clothed in our uniforms, each of us presented a some-what attenuated appearance; we seemed to have lost in dignity, but gained in height. As I looked at Newton Story's form, I could scarcely believe my eyes. Instead of the noble portliness for which he had been distinguished, he was lean as a shorn sheep. Sleek Dan Goree was girlishly slender, while I had a waspish waist, which measured a trifle more than two hands. Dr. Jones was like a tall, over-grown lad; and, as for the Varner brothers, they were elegant to the verge of effeminacy. With military clothes, we instinctively assumed the military pose: our heads rose stiff and erect above our shoulders, our chests bulged out, and our shoulder-blades were drawn in. We found ourselves cunningly peeping from the corners of our eyes, to observe if any admired our martial style. The Little Rock gals, crowding about the Arsenal grounds, were largely responsible fo