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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 2. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 52 (search)
The Rev. J. M. Willey, the indefatigable chaplain of the Third Connecticut regiment, relates the following curious incident: While the troops were resting at Centreville, he concluded that, as they were about to advance on Manassas, it was of great importance that they should be cheered and encouraged in their work Expecting to remain at Centreville over Sunday, he selected a text and arranged the plan for a sermon to be preached to his regiment; but alas! the early march of Sunday morning it was of great importance that they should be cheered and encouraged in their work Expecting to remain at Centreville over Sunday, he selected a text and arranged the plan for a sermon to be preached to his regiment; but alas! the early march of Sunday morning defeated his purpose, and although the text still remains, the sermon was never preached. It is sufficient to say that the text selected by Mr. Willey was that in Psalm LX., and 7th v., And Manasseh is mine. --N. Y. Tribune, Aug. 6.
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 2. (ed. Frank Moore), Incidents of the battle. (search)
additional force of five or ten regiments with a battery behind Centreville on the road to Fairfax, and in the rear of the wagons, the fielde body, supposing us, undoubtedly, to be occupying the ground at Centreville in sufficient force to maintain ourselves, and following out the six wagons heavily loaded with oak timber, about midway between Centreville and the run, intended for rebuilding the bridge which the rebelsI did not think more of it. We started soon after on the road to Centreville, and there was then no confusion apparent, when about half a milr civilians; or if it was, if the wagons had been in the rear of Centreville and properly supported, there would have been no panic at all. ude that a retreat had been ordered, is, that on our approach to Centreville Gen. McDowell was leading his reserves across the road, and to aances. If Gen. McDowell had been content to intrench himself at Centreville, of which he seems to have had some intention, for his men were
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 2. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 74 (search)
cused away on the plea of haste,) Mr. Russell goes out of his way to cast an arrow of unjust reproach and insinuation against Meagher, once the Irish Patriot, and now the American citizen soldier in a regiment filled with brave Irishmen who are proud of his companionship and gallantry. After praising the good conduct of Blenker's Germans, of the 79th, and of the 69th, Mr. Russell slyly insinuates: Captain Meagher, indeed, I am told, yielded to the universal panic, and was seen on foot at Centreville making the best of his way toward Fort Corcoran, with exclamations which implied that, for the moment, he recognized the Southern Confederacy as highly belligerent. This infamous accusation, so disingenuously insinuated with the prudent I am told, is unworthy of the country of Mr. Russell's birth, and, we will add, of the honorable profession of journalism to which he belongs. It is wholly untrue, and we are inclined to think that Mr. Meagher will obtain its retraction.--Philadelphia Pr
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 2. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 187 (search)
73. upon the Hill before Centreville. July Twenty-first, 1861. by George H. Boker. I'll tell you what I heard that day. I heard the great guns, far away, Boom after boom. Their sullen sound Shook all the shuddering air around, And shook, ah me! my shrinking ear, And downward shook the hanging tear That, in despite of manhood's pride, Rolled o'er my face a scalding tide. And then I prayed. O God! I prayed, As never stricken saint, who laid His hot cheek to the holy tomb Of Jesus, in the midnight gloom. “What saw I?” Little. Clouds of dust; Great squares of men, with standards thrust Against their course; dense columns crowned With billowing steel. Then, bound on bound, The long black lines of cannon poured Behind the horses, streaked and gored With sweaty speed. Anon shot by, Like a lone meteor of the sky, A single horseman; and he shone His bright face on me, and was gone. All these, with rolling drums, with cheers, With songs familiar to my ears, Passed under the far-ha