hide Sorting

You can sort these results in two ways:

By entity
Chronological order for dates, alphabetical order for places and people.
By position (current method)
As the entities appear in the document.

You are currently sorting in ascending order. Sort in descending order.

hide Most Frequent Entities

The entities that appear most frequently in this document are shown below.

Entity Max. Freq Min. Freq
Fitz-Hugh Lee 143 1 Browse Search
U. S. Grant 72 0 Browse Search
Vicksburg (Mississippi, United States) 67 1 Browse Search
Pennsylvania (Pennsylvania, United States) 50 0 Browse Search
Missouri (Missouri, United States) 50 0 Browse Search
Washington (United States) 50 0 Browse Search
Tennessee (Tennessee, United States) 38 0 Browse Search
Belle Missouri 38 0 Browse Search
England (United Kingdom) 38 0 Browse Search
Port Hudson (Louisiana, United States) 37 1 Browse Search
View all entities in this document...

Browsing named entities in Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore).

Found 3,859 total hits in 1,477 results.

... 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ...
Selvidge (search for this): chapter 24
e desired to know if they would cook him a meal. No, said a female, in a gruff voice; General Grant and his staff have just been here. and eaten every thing in the house except one pumpkin pie. Humph, murmured Grant; what is your name? Selvidge, replied the woman. Casting a half-dollar in at the door, he asked if she would keep that pie till he sent an officer for it, to which she replied that she would. That evening, after the camping-ground had been selected, the various regimehe usual routine of ceremonies the Acting Assistant Adjutant-General read the following order: Special order, no.--.Headquarters, army in the field. Lieutenant Wickfield, of the----Indiana cavalry, having on this day eaten everything in Mrs. Selvidge's house, at the crossing of the Ironton and Pocahontas and Black River and Cape Girardeau roads, except one pumpkin pie, Lieutenant Wickfield is hereby ordered to return with an escort of one hundred cavalry and eat that pie also. U. S. Gran
Indiana (Indiana, United States) (search for this): chapter 24
urned out, etc. In five minutes the camp was in a perfect uproar, and filled with all sorts of rumors; some thought the enemy were upon them, it being so unusual to have parades when on a march. At half-past 6 the parade was formed, ten columns deep, and nearly a quarter of a mile in length. After the usual routine of ceremonies the Acting Assistant Adjutant-General read the following order: Special order, no.--.Headquarters, army in the field. Lieutenant Wickfield, of the----Indiana cavalry, having on this day eaten everything in Mrs. Selvidge's house, at the crossing of the Ironton and Pocahontas and Black River and Cape Girardeau roads, except one pumpkin pie, Lieutenant Wickfield is hereby ordered to return with an escort of one hundred cavalry and eat that pie also. U. S. Grant, Brigadier-General Commanding. Grant's orders were law, and no soldier ever attempted to evade them. At seven o'clock the Lieuten ant filed out of camp with his hundred men, amid the c
Missouri (Missouri, United States) (search for this): chapter 24
l Grant's staff: The hero and veteran, who was citizen, captain, colonel, brigadier and major-general within a space of nine months, though a rigid disciplinarian, and a perfect Ironsides in the discharge of his official duties, could enjoy a good joke, and is always ready to perpetrate one when an opportunity presents. Indeed, among his acquaintances, he is as much renowned for his eccentric humor as he is for his skill and bravery as a commander. When Grant was a brigadier in South-east Missouri, he commanded an expedition against the rebels under Jeff. Thompson, in North-east Arkansas. The distance from the starting-point of the expedition to the supposed rendezvous of the rebels was about one hundred and ten miles, and the greater portion of the route lay through a howling wilderness. The imaginary suffering that our soldiers endured during the first two days of their march was enormous. It was impossible to steal or confiscate uncultivated real estate, and not a hog, or
Arkansas (Arkansas, United States) (search for this): chapter 24
ajor-general within a space of nine months, though a rigid disciplinarian, and a perfect Ironsides in the discharge of his official duties, could enjoy a good joke, and is always ready to perpetrate one when an opportunity presents. Indeed, among his acquaintances, he is as much renowned for his eccentric humor as he is for his skill and bravery as a commander. When Grant was a brigadier in South-east Missouri, he commanded an expedition against the rebels under Jeff. Thompson, in North-east Arkansas. The distance from the starting-point of the expedition to the supposed rendezvous of the rebels was about one hundred and ten miles, and the greater portion of the route lay through a howling wilderness. The imaginary suffering that our soldiers endured during the first two days of their march was enormous. It was impossible to steal or confiscate uncultivated real estate, and not a hog, or a chicken, or an ear of corn was anywhere to be seen. On the third day, however, affairs l
Stonewall Jackson (search for this): chapter 26
Monody on the death of General Stonewall Jackson. Spoken at the Richmond Varieties by Miss Wren. By the Exile. Ay, toll! toll toll! Toll the funeral bell! And let its mournful echoes roll From sphere to sphere, from pole to pole, O'er the flight of the greatest, kingliest soul That ever in battle fell. Yes, weep! weep! weep! Weep for the hero fled! For death, the greatest of soldiers, at last Has over our leader his black pall cast, And from us his noble form hath passed To the home of the mighty dead. Then toll! and weep I and mourn! Mourn the fall of the brave! For Jackson, whose deeds made the nation proud, At whose very name the enemy cowed, With the “crimson cross” for his martial shroud, Now sleeps his long sleep in the grave. His form has passed away; His voice is silent and still; No more at the head of “the old brigade,” The daring men who were never dismayed, Will he lead them to glory that never can fade; Stonewall of the iron will! He fell as a hero should f
Wren (search for this): chapter 26
Monody on the death of General Stonewall Jackson. Spoken at the Richmond Varieties by Miss Wren. By the Exile. Ay, toll! toll toll! Toll the funeral bell! And let its mournful echoes roll From sphere to sphere, from pole to pole, O'er the flight of the greatest, kingliest soul That ever in battle fell. Yes, weep! weep! weep! Weep for the hero fled! For death, the greatest of soldiers, at last Has over our leader his black pall cast, And from us his noble form hath passed To the home of the mighty dead. Then toll! and weep I and mourn! Mourn the fall of the brave! For Jackson, whose deeds made the nation proud, At whose very name the enemy cowed, With the “crimson cross” for his martial shroud, Now sleeps his long sleep in the grave. His form has passed away; His voice is silent and still; No more at the head of “the old brigade,” The daring men who were never dismayed, Will he lead them to glory that never can fade; Stonewall of the iron will! He fell as a hero should fa
Christ (search for this): chapter 27
nd the knee: And to the darkened skies We lift imploring eyes, We cry to thee. The clouds of gloom untold Have deepened fold on fold, By thy command; And war's red banner waves Still o'er the bloody graves That fill the land. Our trampled harvest fields, No more their bounty yields Our corn and wine; Thy suffering children see; We crave no friend but thee, No help but thine. Behold how few we stand, To guard our native land From shame and wrong; How weak without thine aid! Yet by thy hand arrayed, We shall be strong. Hark! through the vernal air, The foemen's shout we hear, They come, they come! From valley, hill, and coast, They throng, a countless host, Around our home. O God! save it from harm! Stretch forth thy mighty arm, Thy glitt'ring spear! We fight beneath thy shield, We cannot fear nor yield, For thou art near. And thou, O Christ! so fair, Who didst our sorrows bear: O Prince of peace! Breathe but thy love divine Through all this world of thine, And war shall cease.
Savannah (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 27
Prayer. these verses were written by a deaf and dumb girl of Savannah, Georgia, on the occasion of a fast-day. Before thy throne, O God! Upon this blood-wet sod, We bend the knee: And to the darkened skies We lift imploring eyes, We cry to thee. The clouds of gloom untold Have deepened fold on fold, By thy command; And war's red banner waves Still o'er the bloody graves That fill the land. Our trampled harvest fields, No more their bounty yields Our corn and wine; Thy suffering children see; We crave no friend but thee, No help but thine. Behold how few we stand, To guard our native land From shame and wrong; How weak without thine aid! Yet by thy hand arrayed, We shall be strong. Hark! through the vernal air, The foemen's shout we hear, They come, they come! From valley, hill, and coast, They throng, a countless host, Around our home. O God! save it from harm! Stretch forth thy mighty arm, Thy glitt'ring spear! We fight beneath thy shield, We cannot fear nor yield, For
John Wise (search for this): chapter 28
ny that tested me that hour. With eager eyes around me, who vainly hoped to see Some portion of that feeling they deemed I had for thee, With none to whisper one kind word, encouraging my heart, And waken more of scorn and pride than manner dared impart. Alone I met thy downcast eye; ah! well thou didst not raise Thy guilty eye to meet the haughty welcome of my gaze; 'Twas coward-like to seek me beneath my sacred roof When all things slumber — e'en the eye that might have flashed reproof. Wise as thou wert, in knowledge of hypocrisy and guile, Sorrow taught my woman's heart — I met thee with a smile; But when thy hand sought mine with a friendly grasp and bold, I felt the life-blood at my heart was turning sick and cold. Yet watchful eyes were round us, they saw thy proffered hand, And heard thy words of greeting — open, courteous, bland; I met thy clasp as calmly as the rock the wavelet's spray, Then to more welcome guests as calmly turned away. S. A. D. -Southern Literary Mess<
Burnside (search for this): chapter 29
r, he crossed the Rappahannock. Soon as he landed, a fragment of a shell struck his old drum and knocked it to pieces. Picking up a musket, he went in search of rebel relics, and obtained a secesh flag, a clock, a knife, and a bone ring. On opening a back-door in one of the rebel houses, he found a rebel wounded in the hand, and ordered him to surrender. He did so, and was taken by the boysoldier to the Seventh Michigan. When the drummerboy recrossed the river from Fredericksburgh, General Burnside said to him, in the presence of the army: Boy, I glory in your spunk; if you keep on this way a few more years, you will be in my place. Robert is a native of New-York, but moved with his parents to Michigan when he was an infant. His father died ten or twelve years ago, leaving his mother in destitute circumstances, and with a family of four children to support and educate. About fifteen months ago, our drummer-boy went from Jackson (Michigan) to Detroit, with Captain C. V. Deland
... 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ...