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Browsing named entities in Oliver Otis Howard, Autobiography of Oliver Otis Howard, major general , United States army : volume 1.

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George Washington (search for this): chapter 1.2
beautiful uniforms and bright plumes of the company and excited as boys always are by the music. This was a new experience. Suddenly one of the boys told us that our father, Rowland B. Howard, had been drafted and would have to go to war. Little Rowland and I ran home sobbing and crying, not half understanding what the thing meant. Our mother soon explained that father accepted the draft, but on account of his rheumatism would send a substitute. He did so. The substitute's name was George Washington George. He was cross-eyed, but avoided the examining surgeon, declaring that he could shoot as well as anybody by closing one eye. George's full equipment in the old style, with the flint-lock musket and all that went with it, so much interested me that I have never forgotten any article of its make-up. The so-called war was brief, for the controversy was settled by General Winfield Scott in 1838 before there was any actual exchange of shots. This was called the Madawaska War.
Demosthenes (search for this): chapter 1.2
her and one of the strangers had lighted their pipes. My father said, as his curious little boy was noticed: Otis, you must speak your piece. Step up on the bench there beside the door. I did so. My father then said: Now, Otis, make your bow and go on. I did the best I could and stammered through that wonderful speech which children learn without knowing for many years its meaning: You'd scarce expect one of my age To speak in public on the stage, And if I chance to fall below Demosthenes or Cicero, Don't view me with a critic's eye, But pass my imperfections by. This was the event, and the whole sweet picture of it is still before me, more than seventy years after its occurrence. Grandfather, with his thin, silvery hair and very genial face, was already infirm with age. He helped mother about the house more than he did father in the farm work, yet he did many chores in the woodhouse and in the garden and around the barn, which gave father hours of time. My father
Adelbert Ames (search for this): chapter 1.2
, in which he had served, during the last part, as a private. Subsequently during Indian troubles he obtained the rank of captain in the militia. He was born in Bridgewater, Mass., and was known as Captain Seth Howard in Massachusetts, as in Maine after his migration to that State, which was on his arrival but a province, a part of Massachusetts. His father was Jesse Howard, who at the breaking out of the Revolutionary struggle entered the service against the British as a lieutenant in Captain Ames's company; he was subsequently a captain himself, according to the Bridgewater record. Tracing the family back through three generations beyond Jesse, we find John Howard, who was an aide and helper to Miles Standish. This John Howard came from England to America shortly after the arrival of the Mayflower. If a Howard can trace his relatives in the line of heredity to Bridgewater, he is almost sure to belong to the very numerous family of which John Howard was the progenitor. The Eng
have hindered me from doing the work for the freedmen which, years afterwards, was committed to my charge. In the year 1838 my younger brother, Charles, was born. In the early settlement of Leeds, before there were any school privileges, Mr. Francis, a young Englishman, came with a party of prospectors from England. They were entertained by my great — grandfather, Thomas Stanchfield. After leaving his home, situated then in a wilderness near the eastern border of Leeds, the party kept on westward. After a few days, Mr. Francis, much broken and bruised by the journey, returned alone and accepted the offer of Mr. Stanchfield to remain and teach the children of the scattered families in that section of Maine. At a later period, seeing the moral and religious condition of this frontier, he began to give religious instruction to the adults as well as to the children, and was soon after ordained as the first Baptist minister in that community. He was still preaching in the meeti
stic of sturdy New England lads. As a rule, the roughest plays were our delight, and I had a very early ambition to be a leader. Rufus Knapp was at least sixteen when I was eight, jovial with the younger boys, but huge in size, strong and sinewy as an athlete. I used to combine my forces from the small boys and lead them to attack him simply with a view of throwing him to the ground. I would first dive for his legs, and no matter how much I was bruised I led those attacks with success. Rufus never was angry and laughed at the rest of us when we piled upon his prostrate form and held his arms and legs. On one occasion something that has been a characteristic in later life showed itself. Several boys were on their way to school. There had been a freshet, and the deep ditches were full of water. At one place there was quite an excavation comparatively full. The surface in the early morning was skimmed over with thin ice. Henry Millet, one of the companions of about my age, c
John Gilmore (search for this): chapter 1.2
, full of kindness and respectful bearing, while the last simple rites were there performed. It was a sad house for my mother and the little boys after our return for many days, but my mother did not give way to grief so much as not to be able to perform the new tasks that devolved upon her, the care of the family, and the carrying on of the farm. For the first year after father's death my mother employed a good strong Englishman to perform the farm labor and do anything necessary for our support under her supervision. My grandfather did not remain with us long, but soon went to live with his eldest son, Stillman. Two years after, my mother married a prosperous farmer, Colonel John Gilmore, living some six miles away in the southern part of Leeds. He was a widower and had a considerable family of his own. I was nearly eleven years of age when we moved to the new home. There were three boys. For all of us this marriage with the removal from the old place began a new era.
John Howard (search for this): chapter 1.2
company; he was subsequently a captain himself, according to the Bridgewater record. Tracing the family back through three generations beyond Jesse, we find John Howard, who was an aide and helper to Miles Standish. This John Howard came from England to America shortly after the arrival of the Mayflower. If a Howard can trace John Howard came from England to America shortly after the arrival of the Mayflower. If a Howard can trace his relatives in the line of heredity to Bridgewater, he is almost sure to belong to the very numerous family of which John Howard was the progenitor. The English connection is not so very clear and to me it does not seem important. It is, however, a source of gratification to a man to find his family tree representing men exceptJohn Howard was the progenitor. The English connection is not so very clear and to me it does not seem important. It is, however, a source of gratification to a man to find his family tree representing men exceptionally industrious and respectable. A little later, during that same winter of the cornshelling incident, another event impressed me. Early one day my mother dressed me and herself with warm wraps and we joined my father in his sleigh. The weather was exceedingly cold, so that to keep me from being nipped with the frost I was
Seth Howard (search for this): chapter 1.2
oad frieze extending around it, on which was inscribed in plain letters, near the ceiling, the name of my grandfather, Seth Howard, repeated as often as necessary to the completion of the border. The kitchen part, the sheds, the corn building, and e was as noticeable as a lighthouse upon a promontory. It was seen and known for miles around as the residence of Captain Seth Howard. At that time the family consisted of my father (Rowland Bailey Howard), my mother, and my grandfather, who wast there was never a man prouder of his children or more faithful to them during his short life. My grandfather, Captain Seth Howard, was, next to my mother, my favorite companion. His usual stories concerned the Revolutionary War, in which he hadian troubles he obtained the rank of captain in the militia. He was born in Bridgewater, Mass., and was known as Captain Seth Howard in Massachusetts, as in Maine after his migration to that State, which was on his arrival but a province, a part o
Rowland Bailey Howard (search for this): chapter 1.2
ade, its white color, and green blinds, the structure was as noticeable as a lighthouse upon a promontory. It was seen and known for miles around as the residence of Captain Seth Howard. At that time the family consisted of my father (Rowland Bailey Howard), my mother, and my grandfather, who was a little past seventy. Occasionally a neighbor, assisting father in the work of the farm, sat at our table, but habitually we four made up the household. During the winter, probably in Februallet's large front yard. On arriving we were delighted with the beautiful uniforms and bright plumes of the company and excited as boys always are by the music. This was a new experience. Suddenly one of the boys told us that our father, Rowland B. Howard, had been drafted and would have to go to war. Little Rowland and I ran home sobbing and crying, not half understanding what the thing meant. Our mother soon explained that father accepted the draft, but on account of his rheumatism would
t my grandfather and one of the strangers had lighted their pipes. My father said, as his curious little boy was noticed: Otis, you must speak your piece. Step up on the bench there beside the door. I did so. My father then said: Now, Otis, makeOtis, make your bow and go on. I did the best I could and stammered through that wonderful speech which children learn without knowing for many years its meaning: You'd scarce expect one of my age To speak in public on the stage, And if I chance to fallr. Just then my father came in, and I never quite forgave him for reproving my mother for not having taken better care of Otis. Indeed, Otis was wholly to blame. The next day we proceeded to Bangor, Me. There two things occurred which have becoOtis was wholly to blame. The next day we proceeded to Bangor, Me. There two things occurred which have become part of my life. One was the impression produced by Mrs. Richmond's large music box that she wound up several times for my benefit, and the other was a misfortune which I had while playing with a little girl about my age. I shut the door upon her
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