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Browsing named entities in a specific section of John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War.. Search the whole document.

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Leesburg (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.27
A. D. C. to General Stuart of the cavalry, and was travelling from Leesburg to his headquarters, which were on the Warrenton road, between Faionary. I am going to General Stuart's headquarters. Came from Leesburg and have no countersign. This is a picket? Yes. Where is thr to attack Johnston and Beauregard's left, or to cut off Evans at Leesburg, and destroy him before succour could reach him. I was personally eral Evans suspected such an attack, from conversation with him in Leesburg, and was not surprised to find, as I soon did, that the road over and in search of his headquarters. I have no countersign. I left Leesburg this morning, and to-night lost my way. What road is that yonder? the document, then at me, and made me a bow. All right. From Leesburg, Captain? Yes, sir. Any news? None at all. All quiet. ; that I was Aide to General Stuart; that I had come that day from Leesburg; that I had lost my way; that I was not a suspicious character; th
Warrenton (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.27
cember, 1861. I was at that time Volunteer A. D. C. to General Stuart of the cavalry, and was travelling from Leesburg to his headquarters, which were on the Warrenton road, between Fairfax and Centreville. I travelled in a light one-horse vehicle, an unusual mode of conveyance for a soldier, but adopted for the conveniencetron that the road in question was the very one which led to the turnpike. Never did Delphic oracle make a more truthful or a falser announcement. It was the Warrenton turnpike which I desired to reach by flanking Centreville, and cutting off the angle-and lo! with a cheerful heart, I was journeying, as will be seen, toward otn and then began to laugh. Good! I said. I should like particularly to know how I got here. I thought I knew the country thoroughly, and that this was the Warrenton road. Which way did you come? asked the Captain, suspiciously. By the Frying Pan road. I intended to take the short cut to the left of Centreville. Y
Africa (search for this): chapter 3.27
tween Fairfax and Centreville. I travelled in a light one-horse vehicle, an unusual mode of conveyance for a soldier, but adopted for the convenience it afforded me in transporting my blankets, clothes, sword, and other personal effects, which would certainly have sunk a horseman fathoms deep in the terrible mud of the region, there to remain like the petrified Roman sentinel dug out from Pompeii. The vehicle in question was drawn by a stout horse, who was driven by a cheerful young African; and achieving an ultimate triumph over the Gum Spring road, we debouched into the Little River turnpike, and came past the Double Toll-gate to the Frying Pan road. Here the first picket halted me. But the Lieutenant of the picket took an intelligent view of things, and suffered me to continue the road to Centreville. Toward that place, accordingly, I proceeded, over the before-mentioned Frying Pan, which, like the Charles City road below Richmond, means anything you choose. Nig
Richmond (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.27
, who was driven by a cheerful young African; and achieving an ultimate triumph over the Gum Spring road, we debouched into the Little River turnpike, and came past the Double Toll-gate to the Frying Pan road. Here the first picket halted me. But the Lieutenant of the picket took an intelligent view of things, and suffered me to continue the road to Centreville. Toward that place, accordingly, I proceeded, over the before-mentioned Frying Pan, which, like the Charles City road below Richmond, means anything you choose. Night had fully set in by the time I reached Meacham's, a mile from Centreville; and I then remembered for the first time that general orders forbade the entrance of carriages of any description into the camp. This general order, in its special application to myself, was disagreeable. In fact, it was wanton cruelty, and for the following good reasons. , i. I was tired and hungry. 2. That was my route to the headquarters I sought. 3. By any other road I
Baltimore, Md. (Maryland, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.27
h Captain Edelin, and I found him a jovial companion. When I left him, we shook hands, and that is the first time and the last time I ever saw Captain Edelin of the old first Maryland regiment. It was Monsieur D'Artagnan come to life, as I have said; and I remembered very well the figure of the Captain when I read that paragraph announcing his death. He was a Baltimorean, and I have heard that his company was made up in the following manner: When the disturbances took place in Baltimore, in April, 1861, the leaders of the Southern party busied themselves in organizing the crowds into something like a military body, and for that purpose divided them into companies, aligning them where they stood. A company of about one hundred men was thus formed, and the person who had counted it off said: Who will command this company? Two men stepped forward. I can drill them, said the first. I have been through the Mexican war. I can fight them, said the other.
Little (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.27
: I am Aide to General Stuart, and in search of his headquarters. I have no countersign. I left Leesburg this morning, and to-night lost my way. What road is that yonder? The little river turnpike. The little river turnpike? Yes. Then it all flashed on my bewildered brain! I had missed the road which cut off the angle at Centreville, had taken a wrong one in the dark, and been travelling between the two turnpikes towards Fairfax, until chance brought me out upon the Little River road, not far from Chantilly. I stood for a moment looking at the Captain with stupification and then began to laugh. Good! I said. I should like particularly to know how I got here. I thought I knew the country thoroughly, and that this was the Warrenton road. Which way did you come? asked the Captain, suspiciously. By the Frying Pan road. I intended to take the short cut to the left of Centreville. You have come three or four miles out of the way. I see I have-p
Chantilly (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.27
tuart, and in search of his headquarters. I have no countersign. I left Leesburg this morning, and to-night lost my way. What road is that yonder? The little river turnpike. The little river turnpike? Yes. Then it all flashed on my bewildered brain! I had missed the road which cut off the angle at Centreville, had taken a wrong one in the dark, and been travelling between the two turnpikes towards Fairfax, until chance brought me out upon the Little River road, not far from Chantilly. I stood for a moment looking at the Captain with stupification and then began to laugh. Good! I said. I should like particularly to know how I got here. I thought I knew the country thoroughly, and that this was the Warrenton road. Which way did you come? asked the Captain, suspiciously. By the Frying Pan road. I intended to take the short cut to the left of Centreville. You have come three or four miles out of the way. I see I have-pleasant. Well, it won't take
Maryland (Maryland, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.27
me. What regiment is yours, Captain? I asked. The first Maryland--as fine a regiment- Who's your Colonel? Bradley Johnson. Well, arrest me, and take me to him. The Captain laughed. That would be best, he said. The Colonel's headquarters are in a small house just across the field. I'll go with you. So we set out, the huge sword of the worthy clattering against his tall boots as he strode along. On the way he related at considerable length the exploits of his Maryland boys, and renewed his assurances of sympathy with my supperless condition-lamenting the disappearance of his own. In fact, I may say with modest pride that I had conquered the worthy captain. Eloquence had reaped its reward-had had its perfect work. From frigid, the Captain had become lukewarm; from lukewarm, quite a pleasant glow had diffused itself through his conversation. Then his accents had become even friendly: he had offered me a part of his Barmeside supper, and proposed to
North Carolina (North Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.27
How I was arrested I. I was sitting in my tent one day in the year 1863, idly gazing over a newspaper, when my eye fell upon the following paragraph: Killed on the Blackwater.-We learn that Captain Edelin, of the old First Maryland Regiment, but who recently joined the Confederate forces in North Carolina, was killed a few days since in a skirmish on the Blackwater. I laid down the paper containing this announcement, and speedily found myself indulging in reverie. Thus fall, I murmured, from the rolls of mortality the names we have known, uttered, been familiar with! The beings with whom we are thrown, whose hands we touch, whose voices we hear, who smile or frown as the spirit moves them, are to-morrow beyond the stars. They are extinguished like the fitful and wandering fires of evening-like those will-o‘--wisps which dance for an hour around the fields and then disappear in the gathering darkness! This Captain Edelin, of the old First Maryland Regiment, I ha
Fairfax, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.27
at that time Volunteer A. D. C. to General Stuart of the cavalry, and was travelling from Leesburg to his headquarters, which were on the Warrenton road, between Fairfax and Centreville. I travelled in a light one-horse vehicle, an unusual mode of conveyance for a soldier, but adopted for the convenience it afforded me in tran not surprised to find, as I soon did, that the road over which the enemy must advance to assail him was heavily picketed all along its extent in the direction of Fairfax. If this situation be comprehended by the reader, he will not fail to understand why the Captain scrutinized me closely. I was a stranger to him, had passed red brain! I had missed the road which cut off the angle at Centreville, had taken a wrong one in the dark, and been travelling between the two turnpikes towards Fairfax, until chance brought me out upon the Little River road, not far from Chantilly. I stood for a moment looking at the Captain with stupification and then began
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