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William Hepworth Dixon, White Conquest: Volume 2, Chapter 9: Governor Warmoth. (search)
ht before a judge, he is at once discharged. I thought Byerley was fully armed, says Warmoth, in explanation of his use of the knife, and I only struck at him in self-defence. He came on me by stealth, and struck me twice before I saw him. The cane he carried was a sword-stick; a weapon as deadly as a sword; and far more deadly than a knife. This murder in the street has heated and perplexed the situation; for, whatever men may think of street fighting, a man with blood on his hands is not an officer whom any reasonable man would like to seat in the chair of State. In a more settled country, such an act would drive a man from public life; and for the moment, even in Louisiana, Warmouth has become impossible. How long will the ban endure? You seem to think General Warmoth dead, says one of his admirers. John Barleycorn is dead. Bury him in a hole, and cover him with earth. In five weeks he is up again. You'll live to see Warmoth President of the United States.
Waitt, Ernest Linden, History of the Nineteenth regiment, Massachusetts volunteer infantry , 1861-1865, Chapter 22: crossing the river at Fredericksburg. (search)
potations. In the beautiful drawing room of one of the most fashionable houses in the town a young officer of the Seventh Michigan, who by reason of the smoke and mud on him would have been scarce recognized by his mother, was giving a performance upon one of Chickering's Best for the benefit of an audience composed of an equally presentable crowd of survivors of the Forlorn Hope, Confederate prisoners and darkies in about equal proportions, all about equally under the influence of John Barleycorn and all attending to the performance with an assumption of studied and dignified gravity surpassingly ludicrous under the circumstances. Another group on pious thoughts intent, was bringing quite a selection of anthems to a close with the old hymn of: ‘When I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I'll bid farewell to every fear And wipe my weeping eyes.’ But they invariably forgot at the close of these lines the remainder of both hymn and air. As a consequence they san
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.), Book III (continued) (search)
and meaning. Much the same thing may be said of Jack London (1876– 1916), one or two of whose novels will likely outlast his short stories, See Book III, Chap. VI. important as they were in his best days, and close kin as his stories and novels are in subjects, style, and temper. Norris's elemental in London became abysmal passions. He carried the cult of red-blood to its logical, if not ridiculous, extreme. And yet he has a sort of Wild-Irish power that will not go unnoted. John Barleycorn (1913) is an amazingly candid confession of London's own struggles with alcohol. Martin Eden (1909), also autobiographical, though assumed names appear in it, recounts the terrific labours by which in three years London made himself from a common sailor into a popular author. The Sea-Wolf (1904) reveals at its fullest his appetite for cold ferocity in its record of the words and deeds of Wolf Larsen, a Nietzschean, Herculean, Satanic ship captain, whose incredible strength terminates
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.), Index (search)
Jenckes, T. A., 353, 354, 355 Jenks, Albert Ernest, 166 Jennison, Wm., 434 Jesse James, 512, 514, 515 Jessie Brown, 268 Jesuit relations, 179 Jesuits in North America, the, 190 Jevons, 442 Jewett, John P., 306 Jewett, Sarah Orne, 86, 291, 312 Jewish daily forward, the, 601, 607 Jewish daily news, the, 601 Jewish morning journal, the, 601 Jim, 53 Jim along Jo, 516 Jim Bludso, 53 Jinrikisha days in Japan, 55 Joan of Arc, 19, 20 Joaquin et al, 54 John Barleycorn, 94 John Brent, 68 John Brown's body, 516 Johnelle, 595 John McLoughlin, the father of Oregon, 140 John of Saxony, 455 John Randolph, 199 John Reed, 43 Johns Hopkins, 174, 177, 239, 239 n., 244, 409, 412, 440, 459, 465 Johns Hopkins University studies in historical and political Science, the, 177 Johnson, A. V., 431 Johnson, Andrew, 350, 351, 352, 353 Johnson, Capt., 143, 156 Johnson, R. W., 181 Johnson, Samuel, 353, 475, 477, 487, 542, 562 Johnson,
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 31. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), Recollections of army life with General Lee. (search)
se, we tried a plan suggested by General Longstreet and never repeated it again. We built a large fire and allowed it to burn down. We then raked it off clean, spread some pine straw, on this a blanket, and, wrapped in another blanket, we slept like a top; in fact, too warm. We sweltered, and next day had violent influenza, and suffered acutely. In the absence of pocket handkerchiefs we had to slip our nose on our rough coat sleeves, which soon produced an inflamed organ, rivaling John Barleycorn in that respect. Our clothes, mostly cotton, were coarse and heavy, and of every hue and cut—not a full uniform of one material except those of the staff. The prevailing color was what is familiarly known as butternut, a dry dye made from copperas. Its commonness gave rise to the nickname of butternuts to the Confederate soldiers. Our shelters, when in winter quarters, were varied, distinct and original. We had the dug out, the thatched arbor-shaped dog kennel, a log pen opened a
Medford Historical Society Papers, Volume 18., An insular but mythical dueling ground. (search)
overloaded became overcome, and being too full for utterance, sank down for rest, or stumbled over some insignificant obstruction at that particular spot on the island. His boon companions thought it appropriate to mark the spot for future remembrance, and so set up the marker with the truthful inscription, Here Shute Fell. Our own opinion is that Colonel Shute was a Kentucky colonel, and that his opponent in the duel the sympathetic lady told of was none other than the redoubtable Gen. John Barleycorn, hisdeadly weapon a pocket pistol, and that the grave on the island is entirely mythical. The old tavern has gone, the Andover turnpike is no more. Instead is the electric railway that brings multitudes from the crowded city. Instead is the broad Fellsway, with its throng of automobiles and their occupants, coming to the Beautiful lake in Middlesex Fells, of which was written— Fair as thy sister of the north Lesser ‘Smile of the Great Spirit’ art thou Spread o'er the face of Mothe<
the hills, like a streak of lightning. He never could be taken napping. It was said that on one occasion, he led a pack of hounds from a point about half a mile above the present residence of Dr. Reynolds Trent, to Bolling's Island, a distance of at least fifteen miles as the crow flies, and that he camped at night within a few hundred yards of the spot whence he started in the morning. On that famous day, he broke down every horse, and threw every dog out of the chase. Several hunters, at different times, reported that they had captured old "silver tail," but he was like John Barleycorn, up again as soon as the next pack came along.--The hunters were deceived. There were other Richmonds in the field. They took, no doubt, foxes with tips on the ends of their tails, but not the genuine Simon Pure. He, we doubt not, died at a good old age, with all his children and grandchildren — at least all the hunters had spared — gathered around him, and mourning their irreparable loss.
Committed --Wm. S. Poindexter, who has been before the Mayor on several occasions for letting John Barleycorn get the advantage of him, was in his accustomed place on Saturday. It was once too often. He went down in default of security.
Intemperance. --The advance in the price of whiskey has thus far proved of no essential benefit to the temperance cause. On the contrary, the subjects of Sir John Barleycorn multiply daily, and even females seem ambitious of arraying themselves under his banner. Patrick H. McBride was the first on the Mayor's list yesterday, and it having been shown that his present offence was a deviation from his usual habit, he was allowed to return to Gen. Magruder's service, where he belongs. Rosa Clarke, from Petersburg, the next on the list, was discharged with some wholesome advice.--Mary Donahoe, arrested for drunkenness and disorderly conduct, shed a few repentant tears, promised instant reform, and regained her liberty.--Matthew Doran, charged with a similar offence, and attempting to hold up a tree which he fancied was about to lose its perpendicular, assured the Mayor that he was "not drunk at all." "It was a bad pain I had," said Mat, "and stopped to light me pipe." The argument
Intemperance. --The votaries of John Barleycorn continue to have their names registered daily upon the Mayor's docket, and we suppose the custom will not cease so long as whiskey is one of our domestic productions. David Truck bowed his stalwart form before the truculent adversary on Tuesday, and spread himself in a doorway, but the Mayor excused him for this occasion only.--Peter Riley took the sidewalk for his place of repose, and in the progress of events found himself before the municipal tribunal, where security in the sum of $100 was required for his future good behavior.--John A. Cameron, a Texan warrior, made a ruthless invasion of the Monument Hotel premises, but was captured by a superior force, and subsequently committed to the Valley fortress, in default of surety to keep the peace.
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