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The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 5. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 8 0 Browse Search
James Parton, Horace Greeley, T. W. Higginson, J. S. C. Abbott, E. M. Hoppin, William Winter, Theodore Tilton, Fanny Fern, Grace Greenwood, Mrs. E. C. Stanton, Women of the age; being natives of the lives and deeds of the most prominent women of the present gentlemen 4 0 Browse Search
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 3. (ed. Frank Moore) 2 0 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 2 0 Browse Search
L. P. Brockett, Women's work in the civil war: a record of heroism, patriotism and patience 1 1 Browse Search
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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 3. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 7 (search)
ou as well can go; I must mingle with the soldiers Who have come to meet our foe; I must talk to them of battles By the ranks of Freedom won, And of acts of valor ventured, And of deeds of daring done. Ah, I'll take them to the ramparts Where their fathers fought of old,-- For my spirit now surveys them, As a chart that is unrolled,-- And I'll show them in the mirror Of the clouds and of the skies, Where the hosts of glory marshal, And the flag of glory flies IX. Take a blanket, dear, from Effie, And a comfort here and there, And from my good bed and wardrobe Strip whatever I can spare. Hunt the house from top to bottom, And let the neighbors know What they need, the men who shield them From the fury of the foe. Be up early in the morning; Ask of all what they will send To the camp in Wickliffe's meadow, Where each soldier is a friend. 'Twere a sin, whilst there is plenty, (Let us never feel the taunt,) That the legions of the Union, Braving danger, were in want, X. Write at once
L. P. Brockett, Women's work in the civil war: a record of heroism, patriotism and patience, Index of names of women whose services are recorded in this book. (search)
, Miss Hannah E., 411. Stone, Mrs. R. H., 409. Stoneberger, Mrs., 409. Stranahan, Mrs. Marianne F., 53. Strong, Mrs. George T., 301. Swayne, Miss, 411. Tannehill, Mrs. Arabella, 407. Taylor, Miss Alice, 77, 78, 239, 240. Taylor, .Mrs. Nellie Maria, 89, 234, 240. Thomas, Mrs. (of New Orleans), 89. Thompson, Miss Kate P., 406. Ticknor, Mrs. George, 323. Tileston, Miss Jennie, 407. Tilton, Miss Catherine, 409. Tilton, Mrs. Lucretia Jane, 409. Titcomb, Miss Louise, 247. Titlow, Mrs. Effie, 76. Trotter, Mrs. Laura, 301. Turchin, Madame, 79, 80. Tyler, Mrs. Adeline, 241-250. Tyson, Miss, 157, 159. Vanderkieeft, Mrs. Dr., 247. Wade, Mrs. Jennie, 62, 84, 85. Wallace, Miss, 209. Wallace, Mrs. Martha A., 47. Ward, Mrs. Anne, 408. Ward, Mrs. S. R., 409. Webber, Mrs. E. M., 408. Wells, Mrs. Shepard, 88. Whetten, Mrs. Harriet Douglas, 301, 316, 322. Wilbrey, Mrs., 89. Willets, Miss Georgiana, 409. Williams, Miss, 245. Wittenmeyer, Miss Annie, 374-379. Wolcott, Mi
James Parton, Horace Greeley, T. W. Higginson, J. S. C. Abbott, E. M. Hoppin, William Winter, Theodore Tilton, Fanny Fern, Grace Greenwood, Mrs. E. C. Stanton, Women of the age; being natives of the lives and deeds of the most prominent women of the present gentlemen, Fanny Fern-Mrs. Parton. (search)
gs, musical matinees and other mournful occasions? Does the paper-hanger never put you to rout? Do you never have a bout with your sewing-machine and get your temper ruffled? Does not that wonderful wean, that darling grandchild, dainty little Effie, ever have a fit of naughtiness, or whooping-cough, or a tumble downstairs, on that day? Don't you ever long, on just that day, to lie on the sofa and read Thackeray? Ah, do not wars and influenzas, national crises and kitchen imbroglios, disapted her to accomplish. In faithfully doing the work nearest to her hand she may be consoled by the consciousness that art has been shouldered aside by duty alone. Speaking of her little grand-daughter, in a private letter, she says: Our little Effie has never been left with a servant, and, although to carry out such a plan has involved a sacrifice of much literary work, or its unsatisfactory incompleteness, I am not and never shall be sorry. She is my poem. By these things we may see tha
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Poems by Elizabeth H. Whittier (search)
the hound's long baying, Cry of moor-fowl, laugh of rills. Now he stands amidst his clansmen In the low, long banquet-hall, Over grim, ancestral armor Sees the ruddy firelight fall. Once again, with pulses beating, Hears the wandering minstrel tell How Montrose on Inverary Thief-like from his mountains fell. Down the glen, beyond the castle, Where the linn's swift waters shine, Round the youthful heir of Argyle Shy feet glide and white arms twine. Fairest of the rustic dancers, Blue-eyed Effie smiles once more, Bends to him her snooded tresses, Treads with him the grassy floor. Now he hears the pipes lamenting, Harpers for his mother mourn, Slow, with sable plume and pennon, To her cairn of burial borne. Then anon his dreams are darker, Sounds of battle fill his ears, And the pibroch's mournful wailing For his father's fall he hears. Wild Lochaber's mountain echoes Wail in concert for the dead, And Loch Awe's deep waters murmur For the Campbell's glory fled! Fierce and strong
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 5. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Margaret Smith's Journal (search)
s you will, would you be glad or sorry? queried her mistress. The poor girl was silent. I do not wish you to leave me, Effie, said Rebecca, but I wish you to know that you are from henceforth free, and that if you serve me hereafter, as I trust yack from Haverhill last night, Doctor Clark accompanying us, he having business in Newbury. When we came up to the door, Effie met us with a shy look, and told her mistress that Mrs. Prudence (uncle's spinster cousin) had got a braw auld wooer in ts only a little past eight, when in truth it was near ten. Not long after there was a loud knocking at the door, and as Effie had gone to bed, Rebecca did open it, when, whom did she see but the Widow Hepsy Barnet, Deacon Dole's housekeeper, and wancient woman, coming in yesterday, did so set forth the worth and virtue of a syrup of her making, that Aunt Rawson sent Effie over to the woman's house for a bottle of it. The woman sat with us a pretty while, being a lively talking body, although