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John Beatty (search for this): chapter 23
or swerving once from what he considered to be the line of duty, our admiration for him is scarcely less than that we entertain for Jean Val Jean. April, 18 The Columbus (Ohio) Journal, of late date, under the head of Arrivals, says: General John Beatty has just married one of Ohio's loveliest daughters, and is stopping at the Neil House. Good for the General. This is a slander. I trust the paper of the next day made proper correction, and laid the charge, where it belongs, to wit: on ces of the case compelled me, as a commanding officer, to express myself warmly about a matter which might have cost us dearly, to one for whom I felt so kindly. You will report to me in person, without delay. W. S. Rosecrans, Maj.-General Brig.-Gen'l John Beatty, Fortifications, Stone river. P. S.-It might be well to bring this inclosure with you. The inclosure referred to was, of course, my letter to him. The answer was not, by any means, an apology. On the contrary, it assumed
H. C. Hobart (search for this): chapter 23
not stand many more such blows. What must those who know I have a wife and children think, when they see it announced that I have married again, and am stopping at the Neil with one of Ohio's loveliest daughters? What a horrible reflection upon the character of a constant and faithful husband! (This last sentence is written for my wife.) April, 19 Colonel Taylor and I rode over to General Rousseau's this morning. Returning, we were joined by Colonel Nicholas, Second Kentucky; Colonel Hobart, Twenty-first Wisconsin, and Lieutenant-Colonel Bingham, First Wisconsin, all of whom took dinner with me. We had a right pleasant party, but rather boisterous, possibly, for the Sabbath day. There is at this moment a lively discussion in progress in the cook's tent, between two African gentlemen, in regard to military affairs. Old Hason says: Oh, hush, darkey! Buckner replies: Yer done no what'r talkin‘ about, nigger. I'll bet yer a thousand dollars. Hush! Yer ain't got five cen
icket line, and notified by an occasional bullet that the enemy was occupying the thick woods just in our front, and very near. A little over three months ago we were in the hurry, confusion, anxiety, and suspense of an undecided battle, surrounded by the dead and dying, with the enemy's long line of camp-fires before us. Since then we have had a quiet time, each succeeding day seeming the dullest. Rode into town this afternoon; invested twentyfive cents in two red apples; spoke to Captain Blair, of Reynolds' staff; exchanged nods with W. D. B., of the Commercial; saw a saddle horse run away with its rider; returned to camp; entertained Shanks, of the New York Herald, for ten minutes; drank a glass of wine with Colonel Taylor, Fifteenth Kentucky, and soon after dropped off to sleep. A brass band is now playing, away over on the Lebanon pike. The pontoniers are singing a psalm, with a view, doubtless, to making the oaths with which they intend to close the night appear more
April, 1863. April, 1 Adjutant Wilson received a letter to-day, written in a hand that bespoke the writer to be feminine. He looked at the name, but could not recollect having heard it before. The writer assured him, however, that she was an old friend, and said many tender and complimentary things of him. He tried to think; called the roll of his lady friends, but the advantage, as people say, which the writer had of him was entirely too great. If he had ever heard the name, he founly beloved. Lieutenant DuBarry, topographical engineer, has just been promenading the line of tents in his nightshirt, with a club, in search of some scoundrel, supposed to be the Adjutant, who has stuffed his bed with stove-wood and stones. Wilson, on seeing the ghostly apparition approach, breaks into song: Meet me by moonlight alone, And there I will tell you a tale. Lieutenant Orr, commissary of subsistence, coming up at this time, remarks to DuBarry that he is surprised to see
R. S. Granger (search for this): chapter 23
have been taken away, and shelter tents substituted. This evening, when the boys crawled into the latter, they gave utterance, good-humoredly, to every variety of howl, bark, snap, whine, and growl of which the dog is supposed to be capable. Colonel George Humphreys, Eighty-eighth Indiana, whom I supposed to be a full-blooded Hoosier, tells me he is a Scotchman, and was born in Ayrshire, in the same house in which Robert Burns had birth. His grandfather, James Humphreys, was the neighbor and companion of the poet. It was of him he wrote this epitaph, at an ale-house, in the way of pleasantry: Below these stanes lie Jamie's banes. O! Death, in my opinion, You ne'er took sic a blither'n bitch Into thy dark dominion. April, 30 This afternoon called on General Thomas; met General R. S. Granger; paid my respects to General Negley, and stopped for a moment at General Rousseau's. The latter was about to take a horseback ride with his daughter, to whom I was introduced.
t he considered to be the line of duty, our admiration for him is scarcely less than that we entertain for Jean Val Jean. April, 18 The Columbus (Ohio) Journal, of late date, under the head of Arrivals, says: General John Beatty has just married one of Ohio's loveliest daughters, and is stopping at the Neil House. Good for the General. This is a slander. I trust the paper of the next day made proper correction, and laid the charge, where it belongs, to wit: on General Samuel. If General Sam continues to demean himself in this youthful manner, I shall have to beg him to change his name. My reputation can not stand many more such blows. What must those who know I have a wife and children think, when they see it announced that I have married again, and am stopping at the Neil with one of Ohio's loveliest daughters? What a horrible reflection upon the character of a constant and faithful husband! (This last sentence is written for my wife.) April, 19 Colonel Taylor an
who know I have a wife and children think, when they see it announced that I have married again, and am stopping at the Neil with one of Ohio's loveliest daughters? What a horrible reflection upon the character of a constant and faithful husband! (This last sentence is written for my wife.) April, 19 Colonel Taylor and I rode over to General Rousseau's this morning. Returning, we were joined by Colonel Nicholas, Second Kentucky; Colonel Hobart, Twenty-first Wisconsin, and Lieutenant-Colonel Bingham, First Wisconsin, all of whom took dinner with me. We had a right pleasant party, but rather boisterous, possibly, for the Sabbath day. There is at this moment a lively discussion in progress in the cook's tent, between two African gentlemen, in regard to military affairs. Old Hason says: Oh, hush, darkey! Buckner replies: Yer done no what'r talkin‘ about, nigger. I'll bet yer a thousand dollars. Hush! Yer ain't got five cents. Gor way, yer don't no nuffin‘. And so the de
housand dollars. Hush! Yer ain't got five cents. Gor way, yer don't no nuffin‘. And so the debate continues; but, like many others, leads simply to confusion and bitterness. April, 20 This evening an order came transferring my brigade to Negley's division. It will be known hereafter as the Second Brigade, Second Division, Fourteenth Army Corps. April, 28 Late last Monday night an officer from Stokes' battery reported to me for duty. I told him I had received no orders, and knew and companion of the poet. It was of him he wrote this epitaph, at an ale-house, in the way of pleasantry: Below these stanes lie Jamie's banes. O! Death, in my opinion, You ne'er took sic a blither'n bitch Into thy dark dominion. April, 30 This afternoon called on General Thomas; met General R. S. Granger; paid my respects to General Negley, and stopped for a moment at General Rousseau's. The latter was about to take a horseback ride with his daughter, to whom I was introduced.
ed here. Forty thousand boxes of hard bread are stacked in one pile at the depot, and greater quantities of flour, pork, vinegar, and molasses, than I have ever seen before. April, 3 An Indiana newspaper reached camp to-day containing an obituary notice of a lieutenant of the Eighty-eighth Indiana. It gives quite a lengthy biographical sketch of the deceased, and closes with a letter which purports to have been written on the battle-field by one Lieutenant John Thomas, in which Lieutenant Wildman, the subject of the sketch, is said to have been shot near Murfreesboro, and that his last words were: Bury me where I have fallen, and do not allow my body to be removed. The letter is exceedingly complimentary to the said lamented young man, and affirms that he was the hero of heroes, noted for his reckless daring, and universally beloved. The singular feature about this whole matter is that the letter was written by the lamented young officer himself to his own uncle. The decease
his appearance. Our division, he informs me, is understood to possess the chivalric and dashing qualities --which the people admire. With all due respect, I suggested that dash was a good thing, doubtless, but steady, obstinate, well-directed fighting was better, and, in the end, would always succeed. W. D. B., of the Commercial, Major McDowell, of Rousseau's staff, and Lieutenant Porter, called this afternoon. My report of the operations of my brigade at Stone river was referred to. Bickham thought it did not do justice to my command, and I have no doubt it is a sorry affair, compared with the elaborate reports of many others. The historian who accepts these reports as reliable, and permits himself to be guided by then through all the windings of a five-days' battle, with the expectation of finally allotting to each one of forty brigades the proper credit, will probably not be successful. My report was called for late one evening, written hastily, without having before me t
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