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Francis B. Carpenter, Six Months at the White House, Xii. (search)
, but presently returned, with a very disappointed air. Well, did you see him? inquired T. Yees, returned Jack; but laws — he ain't half as big as old G. Shortly afterward, he spoke of Mr. Ewing, who was in both President Harrison's and President Taylor's cabinet. Those men, said he, were, you know, when elected, both of advanced years, -sages. Ewing had received, in some way, the nickname of Old Solitude. Soon after the formation of Taylor's cabinet, Webster and Ewing happened to meet aTaylor's cabinet, Webster and Ewing happened to meet at an evening party. As they approached each other, Webster, who was in fine spirits, uttered, in his deepest bass tones, the wellknown lines,-- O Solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? The evening of Tuesday I dined with Mr. Chase, the Secretary of the Treasury, of whom I painted a portrait in 1855, upon the close of his term as United States Senator. He said during the dinner, that, shortly after the dedication of the cemetery at Gettysburg, the President tol
Francis B. Carpenter, Six Months at the White House, Xlviii. (search)
discussed editorially in the leading organs of the country. The journals I became most familiar with, in the Secretaries' quarters, besides those mentioned, were the Philadelphia Press and North American; the Baltimore American and Sun; the New York Tribune, Evening post, Independent, Times, Herald, and World; the Albany Evening journal; the Boston Advertiser, Journal, and Transcript; the Chicago Tribune and Journal, (the latter valued chiefly for the letters of its war correspondent, B. F. Taylor); the St. Louis Republican and Democrat; and the Cincinnati Gazette and Commercial. Violent criticism, attacks, and denunciations, coming either from radicals or conservatives, rarely ruffled the President, if they reached his ears. It must have been in connection with something of this kind, that he once told me this story. Some years ago, said he, a couple of emigrants, fresh from the Emerald Isle, seeking labor, were making their way toward the West. Coming suddenly, one evening
Francis B. Carpenter, Six Months at the White House, Index. (search)
ymour, General, 48. Shakspeare, 49, 115, 150, 162. Shannon, Hon., Thomas, 147, 148. Sherman, General, 233. Shields and Lincoln, 302. Simmons, Pollard, 111. Sinclair, 16, 48. Sizer, Nelson, 134. Slave Map, 215. Smith, Franklin W., 259. Sojourner truth, 201-203. Soldiers' home 223 Spectator, (London,) 31. Stanton, Elizabeth Cady, 101. Stanton, Secretary, 33, 54, 264, 300 Stephens, Alexander, 211, 215. Stephens, Mrs. Ann S., 131. Stevens, Hon., Thaddeus, 38, 173. Stone, Dr., 81. Swayne, (Sculptor,) 59. T. Taylor, B. F., 154. Thompson, George, 75. Thompson, Rev. J. P., 143, 186, 259. Tilton, 89, 167, 196. V. Van Alen, 173. Vinton, Rev., Francis, 117. W. Wade and Davis, 145. Wadsworth, General, 270. Washington, raid on, 301. Webster, 37, 71, 130. Welles, Secretary, 232. Wetmore, P. M., 140. Wilderness battles, 30. Wilkeson, 101. Willets, Rev., 187. Willis, N. P., 115. Y. Yates, Governor, 267. The End.
re, Ass't Adjutant-General: sir: Having been directed by the General commanding the division to furnish a report of the operations of my brigade from the fifth instant to the present time, I respectfully state as follows: The advance of the division from Young's Mill was formed by my brigade, the Seventh Maine, Col. Mason commanding, being deployed as a line of skirmishers in front, with a section of Kennedy's battery, Lieut. Cowan, following the road. The Thirty-third New-York, Col. B. F. Taylor, Seventy-seventh New-York volunteers, Col. McKean, and the Forty-ninth New-York, Lieut.-Col. Alberger, in the order named, moving in rear of this advance in column. About four miles from Young's Mill, at eleven A. M., the enemy's pickets were driven in, exchanging occasional shots with our skirmishers; and a mile further on, through dense woods, we came in sight of an open space of the position of the enemy's line of earthworks in our front. The Seventh Maine, as skirmishers, were
Doc. 9.-the women of the War. B. F. Taylor's letter. army of the Cumberland, October 22, 1863. Before this letter reaches you, the splendid project of the women of the North-west will be blossoming in full beauty. They will have thronged to the city of the Great Lakes like doves to their windows, their hearts and offerings in. their hands; and art, eloquence, and song, the grand pageant, the classic tableau, the exquisite device, the glowing thought, will have been hallowed to the sweet uses of mercy. The lips of the marble images at Mecca were worn away, they say, by the kisses of the pilgrims, but how must the delicate touch of true and loving women smooth and beautify the iron fate of our glorious boys in blue! Close beside the scene that brightens your city like a carnival, garlanded with flowers and glad with sunshine, I see a shadow strange and sad. I am not sure that the laughing girls, who make a Sharon of the Soldiers' Fair, discern how heavy the borders of
L. P. Brockett, The camp, the battlefield, and the hospital: or, lights and shadows of the great rebellion, Part 2: daring enterprises of officers and men. (search)
of Mission Ridge, in which that noble Fourth Corps marched and climbed for a long hour through a furnace of flame, and after struggling up an ascent so steep that to climb it unopposed would task the stoutest energies, swept their enemies from its summit, and over all that broad vista disclosed from its summit, saw only a flying and utterly routed foe. Many writers have attempted to describe, and with varying success, this brilliant feat of arms, but none have succeeded so admirably as Mr. B. F. Taylor, of the Chicago Journal, himself an eye-witness of it. We give a portion of his description, which is as truthful as it is glowing: The brief November afternoon was half gone; it was yet thundering on the left; along the centre all was still. At that very hour a fierce assault was made upon the enemy's left near Rossville, four miles down toward the old field of Chickamauga. They carried the Ridge; Mission Ridge seems everywhere — they strewed its summit with rebel dead; they held
of Mission Ridge, in which that noble Fourth Corps marched and climbed for a long hour through a furnace of flame, and after struggling up an ascent so steep that to climb it unopposed would task the stoutest energies, swept their enemies from its summit, and over all that broad vista disclosed from its summit, saw only a flying and utterly routed foe. Many writers have attempted to describe, and with varying success, this brilliant feat of arms, but none have succeeded so admirably as Mr. B. F. Taylor, of the Chicago Journal, himself an eye-witness of it. We give a portion of his description, which is as truthful as it is glowing: The brief November afternoon was half gone; it was yet thundering on the left; along the centre all was still. At that very hour a fierce assault was made upon the enemy's left near Rossville, four miles down toward the old field of Chickamauga. They carried the Ridge; Mission Ridge seems everywhere — they strewed its summit with rebel dead; they held