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Browsing named entities in Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 2. (ed. Frank Moore). You can also browse the collection for Centreville (Maryland, United States) or search for Centreville (Maryland, United States) in all documents.
Your search returned 11 results in 4 document sections:
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)
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 2. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 74 (search)
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