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Illinois (Illinois, United States) (search for this): chapter 200
slowly closing round my leg. So it goes! He'll be soon pulling at my heart-strings. The maniac then stopped, as if trying to remember. After a low, sardonic laugh, he continued: I plead with him; I told him they'd be lonely at the old home in Illinois. A wife and child are pleasanter than a tomb, I said. He laughed at that. We had to leave him; and what a sight it was! The rottenness of the grave, and the vitality of a strong man, joined in a terrific grapple on a hospital bed. Life, with the full pulse of five-and-twenty years, had marshalled all its forces, and been defeated. His name was C. P. Dunster, of Illinois. A noble young fellow in the Douglass Hospital had been injured by the passage of a shell near his head. Shortly after, a solid shot carried away his left arm. He was well treated on the field, and sent to Washington for recovery. Here, the effect of the concussion of that screaming shell, began to show itself on the brain. He became delirious. Watching by hi
Wisconsin (Wisconsin, United States) (search for this): chapter 200
uglass Hospital had been injured by the passage of a shell near his head. Shortly after, a solid shot carried away his left arm. He was well treated on the field, and sent to Washington for recovery. Here, the effect of the concussion of that screaming shell, began to show itself on the brain. He became delirious. Watching by him one night, I took down some of his strange ravings:—No! I won't go home till the Union is safe. I'd rather die here, by the roots of this old tree, and dig my own grave, than have any croaker in Wisconsin say that I let the old flag drop! Not I! Bring it out! Let me see it once more! Now I am ready for the last charge-one more chance at the rebels!—and springing from the bed, he plunged forward. I caught him, and laid him down gently. A quiver went through his body, a flash came from his beautiful face, and every muscle fell. The pulse had stopped. He slept his last sleep, he had fought his last battle; No sound could awake him to glory aga
C. P. Dunster (search for this): chapter 200
s if trying to remember. After a low, sardonic laugh, he continued: I plead with him; I told him they'd be lonely at the old home in Illinois. A wife and child are pleasanter than a tomb, I said. He laughed at that. We had to leave him; and what a sight it was! The rottenness of the grave, and the vitality of a strong man, joined in a terrific grapple on a hospital bed. Life, with the full pulse of five-and-twenty years, had marshalled all its forces, and been defeated. His name was C. P. Dunster, of Illinois. A noble young fellow in the Douglass Hospital had been injured by the passage of a shell near his head. Shortly after, a solid shot carried away his left arm. He was well treated on the field, and sent to Washington for recovery. Here, the effect of the concussion of that screaming shell, began to show itself on the brain. He became delirious. Watching by him one night, I took down some of his strange ravings:—No! I won't go home till the Union is safe. I'd rather