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Vicksburgh is ours! by J. O. Blythe, M. D. Hark! borne upon the Southern breeze, As whispers breathed above the trees, Or as the swell from off the seas, In summer showers, Fall softly on the ears of men Strains sweetly indistinct, and then-- Hi heads. All honor to the brave and true Who fought the bloody battles through, And from the ramparts victory drew Where Vicksburgh cowers; And o'er the trenches, o'er the slain, Through iron hail and leaden rain, Still plunging onward, might and main, Made Vicksburgh ours. Wave, wave your banners in the sky, The glory give to God on high, In lofty praises far outvie All other powers, Who nerved the arms that struck the blow, Which, in defeat overwhelmed the foe, And laid his frowning bulwarks loave, wave your banners in the sky, The glory give to God on high, In lofty praises far outvie All other powers, Who nerved the arms that struck the blow, Which, in defeat overwhelmed the foe, And laid his frowning bulwarks low, Made Vicksburgh ours!
A beautiful letter. Some time since a rebel by the name of Hardin was captured near Vicksburgh, with a letter written by a lady of one of the first families in Mississippi, residing near Lake Providence, which letter he was conveying to Mrs. Amy Anderson in a neighboring State. The writer of the letter speaks of her husband as Mr. P., and it appears that he was a man of considerable influence and standing. I send you the letter with extracts marked, in order that readers may see what spirthat the rights of private property, in other words, of private niggers, are not invariably respected in the dominions of Jeff Davis, as bear witness the following: The overseers and managers treat the property of private patriotic men at Vicksburgh more like the Yanks than I thought a Southern man could do. They are not only cruel but worse. They neglect them in sickness, whereas an hour's attention would save hundreds; but we must stand it, even if we lose all we have. Say not a word —
Ballad of Vicksburgh. Two years the tide of war had rolled In restless fury on-- Hearts growing prematurely old In grief for loved ones gone! Two years the burdened land had groaned Beneath the martial train; With bitter, scalding tears bemoaned Its argosy of pain! Two years had brothers met as foes On many a field and flood-- Had fathers drained the cup of woes Their sons had steeped in blood! The haughty rebel striving hard To fill a land with slaves; The gallant freeman still to guard The h bears its scars, The people hide in caves, And cursing still the Stripes and Stars, There many find their graves! But closer draws the giant coil, Want stares them in the face, In vain is all their arduous toil, They cannot hold the place. And Vicksburgh by the river side So long the rebel boast, Falls from its dizzy height of pride Before the loyal host. And on that joyful summer morn, The great day of the year That symbols still a nation born, There waves the flag so dear! And many a shout go
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore), How General Grant cares for his soldiers. (search)
and Herald, has issued a special order forbidding steamboat men to charge more than five dollars to enlisted men, and seven dollars to officers, as fare between Vicksburgh and Cairo. Immediately after Vicksburgh had fallen, a large number of steamboats cleared from Northern ports for that place, and were in the habit of charging Vicksburgh had fallen, a large number of steamboats cleared from Northern ports for that place, and were in the habit of charging soldiers going home on furlough from fifteen to thirty dollars fare to Cairo. A friend relates to us that the steamer Hope was compelled by General Grant to disgorge its ill-gotten gains the other day, under the following circumstances: This boat had about one thousand enlisted soldiers, and nearly two hundred and fifty officers, the Hope had charged these men and officers from ten to twenty-five dollars apiece, as fare to Cairo. Just as the boat was about to push off from the wharf at Vicksburgh, an order came from General Grant requiring the captain to pay back to his passengers all money received by him as fare in excess of five dollars to enlisted me
e country, to prevent the enemy from subsisting their armies, and to drive out any force he might have in that region, and if possible to ascertain if the enemy was concentrating in any considerable force for the purpose of raising the siege of Vicksburgh. We had six brigades, numbering something over ten thousand men. We have marched over one hundred miles in a week, during the hottest kind of weather. We destroyed all the forage, and supplies, and cotton, and drove off all the cattle, hot imperative duty to destroy every thing, corn, cotton, meat, mills, and cotton-gins, that we could find, sparing only dwellings, and a small supply of provisions for each family. This is bringing the war home to their people, and making them realize their own crime in bringing its calamities upon the country. The command will rest here for a day or so, and then return to Vicksburgh, which cannot hold out very long against our forces. They can raise no force to make us give up the siege.
Peter Apple, of Oakland, Marion County, was lately recruited for the Eleventh Indiana, and took part in the attempt to storm one of the Vicksburgh batteries. The rebel fire was so destructive that our army recoiled. Apple, the raw recruit, didn't see the backward movement, and kept going ahead until he came right up to one of the rebel guns, caught a gunner by the collar, and brought him within our lines, saying: Boys, why didn't you come on? Every fellow might have got one.
Baltimore, June 25, 1863. Upward of two years ago, in these very streets, the Massachusetts volunteers, while marching to defend the national capital, were assaulted by a mob. To-day, an armed guard patrols every corner and square of the city; and for two whole years a rebellious population have been taught the bitter lesson of loyalty by the threatening guns of Fort McHenry. Strolling along Eutaw, or any of the principal streets, of an evening, your ear will probably catch, as mine has already, some fragment of conversation like the following: Miss Blank is sitting upon her door-step, musing, with her large, dark eyes fixed absently upon the heavens above her. A gentleman in linen trowsers is directly ahead of you. The shadowy form of the sentry is about disappearing in the ill-lighted street a few yards further on. The gentleman recognizes Miss Blank, and inquires is she enjoying the breeze, or makes some other equally intellectual remark. Oh! No, Miss Blank replies in a sub
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore), A letter from President Lincoln. (search)
nt Lincoln. At the commencement of the rebellion Melancthon Smith was postmaster of the town of Rockford, Illinois, and his wife was acting as deputy-postmaster. Feeling it his duty to participate in the struggle, Mr. Smith raised a regiment, of which he was appointed Colonel, and entered service under General Grant, leaving Mrs. Smith to attend to the duties of the post-office. Colonel Smith distinguished himself on several occasions, and at the recent storming of the first redoubt at Vicksburgh, led the forlorn hope, and was shot through the head and killed. Application was then made for the appointment as postmaster of a gentleman who, under ordinary circumstances, would have been a proper person to fill the office. Counter applications to retain the widow were also sent in. The matter was brought before the President; he indorsed the application for the widow, and afterward sent a letter to the Postmaster-General, of which the following is a copy: Executive Mansion, Washingt
or. On the sixteenth of July, 1868, the steamboat Imperial arrived at New-Orleans from St. Louis, the first boat between the cities for more than two years. She comes from St. Louis! Hurrah and hurrah! She lies at the levee unmarred by a scar! No cursing guerrillas could frighten her back, Though longing, like bloodhounds, to leap on her track; Nor cannon to sink her, nor chain set to bar-- She comes from St. Louis! Hurrah and hurrah! She comes from St. Louis! Who now will deny That Vicksburgh, Port Hudson, in ruins must lie? The good boat Imperial laughed them to scorn As bold to our levee she rounded at morn, And brought with her freedom and wealth from afar-- She comes from St. Louis! Hurrah and hurrah! She comes from St. Louis! The river is free! What tidings of glory, New-Orleans, for thee! Oh! welcome her I herald the holiday time-- Fling out all your banners now — let the bells chime-- Of sunny days dawning, the harbinger star, She comes from St. Louis! Hurrah and hur
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