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Your search returned 179 results in 75 document sections:
Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 7 (search)
An English Combatant, Lieutenant of Artillery of the Field Staff., Battlefields of the South from Bull Run to Fredericksburgh; with sketches of Confederate commanders, and gossip of the camps., Chapter 37 : (search)
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Introduction. (search)
Robert Underwood Johnson, Clarence Clough Buell, Battles and Leaders of the Civil War. Volume 3., Confederate torpedoes in the Yazoo . (search)
James Redpath, The Roving Editor: or, Talks with Slaves in the Southern States., In my sanctum. (search)
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 3. (ed. Frank Moore), Doc . 34 . attack on Santa Rosa Island . October 9 , 1861 . (search)
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 1. (ed. Frank Moore), Southern opinions: from the Charleston Mercury , April 30 . (search)
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 4. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 121 (search)
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 4. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 3 (search)
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 8. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 37 (search)
18.
Anglo-Saxon whittling song.
Your Yankee is always to be found with a jack-knife, and when he has nothing else to do, is eternally whittling.--Growling old traveller. In the olden time of England, the days of Norman pride, The mail-clad chieftain buckled on his broad-sword at his side, And, mounted on his trusty steed, from land to land he strayed, And ever as he wandered on, he whittled with his blade. Oh!
those dreamy days of whittling! He was out in search of monsters — of giants grim and tall, He was hunting up the griffins — the dragons, great and small-- He broke in through the oak doors of many a castle-gate, And what he whittled when within, 'tis needless to relate. Oh!
those foolish days of whittling! But when the pomp of feudal pride, like a dream had passed away, And everywhere the knightly steel was rusting to decay, The common people drew their blades in quite another cause, And in the place of giants grim, they whittled up the laws. Oh!
those stern old days o