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e following: Am I a soldier of the cross ; How tedious and Tasteless the hours ; There is a fountain filled with blood, and, Alas, and did my Saviour Bleed? One song pleased Abe not a little. I used to sing it for old Thomas Lincoln, relates Turnham, at Abe's request. The old gentleman liked it and made me sing it often. I can only remember one couplet: There was a Romish lady She was brought up in Popery. Dennis Hanks insists that Abe used to try his hand and voice at Poor old Ned, but never with any degree of success. Rich, racy verses were sung by the big boys in the country villages of that day with as keen a relish as they are to-day. There is no reason and less evidence for the belief that Abe did not partake of this forbidden fruit along with other boys of the same age and condition in life. Among what Dennis called field songs are a few lines from this one: The turbaned Turk that scorns the world And struts about with his whiskers curled, For no other man
ael Greene, on Cumberland Island, and who was left by the rebel inheritor, Nightingale, on his evacuation of the place, died here last week, at the house of the lady teachers of the schools, who have kindly cared for him since their arrival here. Ned was over one hundred years old, and remembered General Washington well, and was one of the number who assisted in carrying him through the streets of Savannah on his last visit to that place. Old Ned took a lively interest in the affairs of the nlonger, he replied, As the tree falls, so it will lay; his attainments on earth would contribute to higher attainments on high; and the ladies yielded to his request, and during the last months of his life he, with much labor and effort, acquired a knowledge of his letters and syllables. Poor old Ned! After a long life of unrequited toil and slavery, he has gone where the good negroes go; where no slave-driver will ever follow; where he can sing de praises ob de Lord in freedom and safety.
turn again soon. Purchasers are here in advance of you and are making contracts this very day, and to them I offer the same facilities that I have offered to you, and will do so until you arrive. The cotton first purchased will be first transported by me on the Government trains, and it is the bold man who wins. I have no personal interest in this matter, as you very well know, and had you come forward promptly on reaching Nashville this whole matter would have been in your own hands. Ned will be exchanged for Lieutenant Morgan, the brother of the colonel. Very truly and affectionately, O. M. Mitchel. Confederate correspondence, Etc. April 18, 1862. Proclamation. The major-general commanding this department, charged with the enforcement of martial law, believing that many of its citizens have been misled into the commission of treasonable acts through ignorance of their duties and obligations to their State, and that many have actually fled across the mountains
Petersburg, where we received treatment fit for conquerors. We continued our march to this place, where we will remain until we are clothed and gain some strength, many of the men being unfit for service by sickness and fatigue. I cannot conclude this letter without bearing testimony to the bravery, coolness, courage, and fatherly kindness of Col. Taliaferro towards his men, not one of whom but would follow him wherever he should lead. The same remarks will apply to Lieut.-Col. Crenshaw, Maj. Jos. H. Pendleton, and Adj. Wm. B. Pendleton, than whom no braver nor better souls can be found. To Lieut. E. E. De Priest and Private W. C. Wane, of the sharp-shooters, great credit is due for their bravery and courage in action. They have never yet refused to obey any order, however hazardous, nor to perform it with zeal and alacrity. Both of them were with General G. at his death, the latter of whom tried to get his watch and sword, but was forced to leave them to the Yankees. Ned.
on't you know? I'm little Jane, The pride of Battery B. My home? Why, that was burned away, And pa and ma are dead, And so I ride the guns all day Along with Sergeant Ned. And I've a drum that's not a toy, A cap with feathers too, And I march beside the drummer-boy On Sundays at review. But now our bacca's all give out, The men can't have their smoke, And so they're cross,—why, even Ned Won't play with me and joke. And the big Colonel said to-day— I hate to hear him swear— He'd give a leg for a good pipe Like the Yanks have over there. And so I thought, when beat the drum, And the big guns were still, I'd creep beneath the tent and come Out here across th described by Gassaway as occurring in the vicinity of the peaceful scene here reproduced, from a photograph taken a few days after the battle. ‘Indeed I will, for Ned, says he, If I do what I say I'll be a general yet, maybe, And ride a prancing bay.’ We brimmed her tiny apron o'er; You should have heard her laugh As each man
vised by me, that afternoon, would have made an excellent chapter for some future history of the war; for, like that which Thackeray's Ensign Spooney wrote his mother just before Waterloo, they were full of affection, pluck, and bad spelling ; nearly all giving lively accounts of the battle, and ending with a somewhat sudden plunge from patriotism to provender, desiring Marm, Mary Ann, or ( Aunt Peters, to send along some pies, pickles, sweet stuff, and apples, to yourn in haste, Joe, Sam, or Ned, as the case might be. My little Sergeant insisted on trying to scribble something with his left hand, and patiently accomplished some half dozen lines of hieroglyphics, which he gave me to fold and direct, with a boyish blush, that rendered a glimpse of My dearest Jane, unnecessary, to assure me that the heroic lad had been more successful in the service of Commander-in-Chief Cupid than that of Gen. Marms; and a charming little romance blossomed instanter in Nurse Periwinkle's romantic f
revity. Old boy, how are you? faltered the one. Most through, thank heaven! whispered the other. Can I say or do anything for you anywheres? Take my things home, and tell them that I did my best. I will! I will! Good bye, Ned. Good bye, John, good bye! They kissed each other, tenderly as women, and so parted, for poor Ned could not stay to see his comrade die. For a little while, there was no sound in the room but the drip of water, from a stump or two, and John'Ned could not stay to see his comrade die. For a little while, there was no sound in the room but the drip of water, from a stump or two, and John's distressful gasps, as he slowly breathed his life away. I thought him nearly gone, and had just laid down the fan, believing its help to be no longer needed, when suddenly he rose up in his bed, and cried out with a bitter cry that broke the silence, sharply startling every one with its agonized appeal: For God's sake, give me air! It was the only cry pain or death had wrung from him, the only boon he had asked; and none of us could grant it, for all the airs that blew were useles
ly permitted me to take with me, as my steward, a valuable slave of his who had been brought up as a dining-room servant. Ned was as black as the ace of spades, and being a good-tempered, docile lad, had become my right-hand man, taking the best ofin the midst of it. But the tempter came along. The Connecticut miscegenist (and slave-holder, at the same time) had seen Ned's shining and happy face going to market, of mornings, and, like the serpent of old, whispered in his ear. One morning NedNed was missing, but the market-basket came off, piled up as usual with luxuries for dinner. The lad had been bred in an honest household, and though his poor brain had been bewildered, he was still above theft. His market-basket fully balanced his account. Poor Ned! his after-fate was a sad one. He was taken to the country, by his Mephistophiles, and set at work, with the slaves of that pious Puritan, on a small plantation that belonged to his negro wife. Ned's head was rather too woolly,
with a gentle breeze from the south-east, and a smooth sea. At eleven A. M., mustered the crew, and inspected the ship. Latitude, 6° 55′ N.; longitude, 45° 08′ W. Evening set in, squally, and rainy. Running along to the north-west, under topsails. October 2d.—This morning, when I took my seat, at the breakfast-table, I was surprised to find a very tempting-looking dish of fried fish set out before me, and upon inquiring of my faithful steward, John, (a Malayan, who had taken the place of Ned,) to what good fortune he was indebted, for the prize, his little black eyes twinkled, as he said, Him jump aboard, last nightly Upon further inquiry, I found that it was a small sword-fish, that had honored us with a visit; the active little creature having leaped no less than fifteen feet, to reach the deck of the Sumter. It was lucky that its keen spear did not come in contact with any of the crew during the leap—a loss of life might have been the consequence. The full-grown sword-fis
George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Major-General United States Army (ed. George Gordon Meade), chapter 4 (search)
inions about men and things, that would not be considered orthodox, but I maintain no government in the world would take advantage of such confidential intercourse to find a man guilty, and I don't believe that any of my letters have ever been opened. camp near Falmouth, Va., February 1, 1863. Yesterday I received by the flag of truce, a note from Frank Ingraham, Nephew of General Meade. who says he is a private in the Twenty-first Mississippi Regiment, now at Fredericksburg. He says Ned Brother of Frank Ingraham. was killed last spring, and that Apolline Sister of Frank Ingraham. has lost her husband, who died from exposure in service; that his mother and the rest are all well, and wish to be remembered to his yankee relatives. The weather continues most unfavorable, rain and mud are the order of the day, and in my judgment it will be some months before we can undertake operations of any magnitude. I am afraid, from what I see in the papers, that General Franklin i
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