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Aquia Creek (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
as kill or cure, but it was in a vast majority of cases, the latter; and men who stood the hardship thrived upon it. The Marylanders, too, were a marvel of patience. Self-made exiles, not only from the accustomed comforts of home, but cut off from communication with their absent ones and harrowed by vague stories of wrong and violence about them — it would have been natural had they yielded to the combined strain on mind and matter. At midwinter I had occasion to visit Evansport and Acquia creek. It had been bitter cold; a sudden thaw had made the air raw and keen, while my horse went to his girths at every plunge. More than once I had to dismount in mire girth-deep to help him on. Suddenly I came upon a Maryland camp-supports to a battery. Some of the soldiers I had known as the gayest and most petted of ballroom and club; and now they were cutting wood and frying bacon, as if they had never done anything else. Hands that never before felt an ax-helve plied it now as if for
Virginia (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
history of days long gone, for their father's fathers had moved in stately pageant down its brightest pages; and blood flowed in their veins blue as the proudest of earth's nobility. They had left affluence, luxury, the caresses of home-and, harder than all, the habits of society — for what? Was it thoughtlessly to rush foremost in the delirious shock of battle; to carelessly stand unflinchingly where the wing of death flapped darkest over the glare of the fight; to stand knee-deep in Virginia mud, with high boots and rough shirts, and fry moldy bacon over fires of wet brush? Or was it that the old current in their veins bounded hotly when they believed a wrong was doing; that all else-home-luxury-love-life!-faded away before the might of principle? It was an odd meeting with the crowd that collected about me and anxiously asked the news from Richmond, from abroad, but above all, from home. Bronzed and bearded, their huge boots caked with Potomac mud and rough shirts open a
Rotten row (United Kingdom) (search for this): chapter 18
only died as gentlemen — they lived as they died. Their perfumed locks were never draggled in the mire of the camp, and their silken hose never smirched but in the fray. Light songs from dainty lips and brimming goblets from choice flacons were theirs; and they could be merry to-night if they died to-morrow. The long rapiers of the Regency flashed as keen in the smoke of the fight as the jest had lately rung in the mistress' bower; and how the blase club man and the lisping dandy of Rotten Row could change to the avenging war god, the annals of the Light brigade can tell. But these lived as gentlemen. In the blackest hour, when none believed the king should have his own again ; in the deadliest fray and in the snow-bound trench, they waved the sword of command, and the only equality they had with their men was who should fight the furthest. But here were gentlemen born-men of worth and wealth, education and fashion-delving side by side with the veriest drudge; fighting
Cobham (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
e-life!-faded away before the might of principle? It was an odd meeting with the crowd that collected about me and anxiously asked the news from Richmond, from abroad, but above all, from home. Bronzed and bearded, their huge boots caked with Potomac mud and rough shirts open at their sunburnt throats; chapped hands and faces grimy with smoke and work, there was yet something about these men that spoke them, at a glance, raised above the herd. John Leech, who so reveled in the Camps at Cobham, would here have found a companion-piece for the opposition of the picture. Hello, old boy! any news from home? yelled a whiskered sergeant, jumping from a log where he was mending a rent in his pants, and giving me a hand the color of his favorite tan gloves in days lang syne--Pretty tight work up here, you see, but we manage to keep comfortable! --God save the mark! What do you think Bendann would give for a negative of me? asked a splendid fellow leaning on an ax, the rapid st
London, Madison County, Ohio (Ohio, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
o, said the sergeant. But that's the hard part of it! --and he stuck his needle viciously through the pants-I always get savage when I think of our dear women left unpro- No particular one, sergeant? You don't mean Miss Mamie on Charles street, do you? Insatiate archer! cried Charley. Do your cooking, you imp! I mean my dear old mother and my sick sister. D-n this smoke! It will get in a fellow's eyes! When Miss Todd gave her picnic in the valley of Jehoshaphat and talked London gossip under the olives, it was an odd picture; it is strange to see the irrepressible English riding hurdles in the Campagna, and talking of ratting in the shadow of the Parthenon, as though within the beloved chimes of Bow; but it was stranger still to see those roughened, grimed men, with soleless boots and pants tattered as if an imp had worn them, rolling out town-talk and well-known names in such perfectly natural manner. And this was only a slice from any camp in the service. The
Evansport (Ohio, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
The practice was kill or cure, but it was in a vast majority of cases, the latter; and men who stood the hardship thrived upon it. The Marylanders, too, were a marvel of patience. Self-made exiles, not only from the accustomed comforts of home, but cut off from communication with their absent ones and harrowed by vague stories of wrong and violence about them — it would have been natural had they yielded to the combined strain on mind and matter. At midwinter I had occasion to visit Evansport and Acquia creek. It had been bitter cold; a sudden thaw had made the air raw and keen, while my horse went to his girths at every plunge. More than once I had to dismount in mire girth-deep to help him on. Suddenly I came upon a Maryland camp-supports to a battery. Some of the soldiers I had known as the gayest and most petted of ballroom and club; and now they were cutting wood and frying bacon, as if they had never done anything else. Hands that never before felt an ax-helve plied
Manassas, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
ies was frequently stated by surgeons of perfect reliability: their sick reports were much smaller than those of the hardiest mountain organizations. This they attributed to two causes: greater attention to personal cleanliness and to all hygienic precautions; and the exercise of better trained minds and wills keeping them free from the deadly blue devils. Numbers of them, of course, broke down at once. Many a poor fellow who would have achieved a brilliant future perished mid the mud of Manassas, or slept under the snowy slopes of the western mountains. The practice was kill or cure, but it was in a vast majority of cases, the latter; and men who stood the hardship thrived upon it. The Marylanders, too, were a marvel of patience. Self-made exiles, not only from the accustomed comforts of home, but cut off from communication with their absent ones and harrowed by vague stories of wrong and violence about them — it would have been natural had they yielded to the combined strain
Bon (search for this): chapter 18
t fray and in the snow-bound trench, they waved the sword of command, and the only equality they had with their men was who should fight the furthest. But here were gentlemen born-men of worth and wealth, education and fashion-delving side by side with the veriest drudge; fighting as only gentlemen can fight, and then working as gentlemen never worked before! Delicately bred youths who had never known rougher work than the deux temps, now trudged through blinding snows on post, or slept in blankets stiff with freezing mud; hands that had felt nothing harder than billiard-cue or cricket-bat now wielded ax and shovel as men never wielded them for wages; the epicure of the club mixed a steaming stew of rank bacon and moldy hard-tack and then-ate it! And all this they did without a murmur, showing an example of steadfast resolution and unyielding pluck to the hardier and tougher soldiers by them; writing on the darkest page of history the clear axiom: Bon sang ne peut mentir!
Peel (search for this): chapter 18
by a flannel shirt with many a rent, army pants and a jacket that had been gray, before mud and smoke had brought it near the unity of Joseph's best garment. I'd show well at the club-portrait of a gentleman? he added lightly. Pshaw! Look at me/ There's a boot for a junior assembly! Wouldn't that make a show on a waxed floor? and little Charley H. grinned all the way across his fresh, fair face, as he extended a foot protruding from what had been a boot. D-1 take your dress! Peel those onions, Charley! cried a baldheaded man from the fire--Don't your heart rise at the scent of this olla, my boy? Don't it bring back our dinners at the Spanish legation? Stay and dine with us — if Charley ever has those onions done-and you'll feast like a lord-mayor! By the way, last letters from home tell me that Miss Belle's engaged to John Smith. You remember her that night at Mrs. R.'s fancy ball? Wouldn't mind having a bottle of Mrs. R.'s sherry now to tone up these onions,
John Smith (search for this): chapter 18
ey H. grinned all the way across his fresh, fair face, as he extended a foot protruding from what had been a boot. D-1 take your dress! Peel those onions, Charley! cried a baldheaded man from the fire--Don't your heart rise at the scent of this olla, my boy? Don't it bring back our dinners at the Spanish legation? Stay and dine with us — if Charley ever has those onions done-and you'll feast like a lord-mayor! By the way, last letters from home tell me that Miss Belle's engaged to John Smith. You remember her that night at Mrs. R.'s fancy ball? Wouldn't mind having a bottle of Mrs. R.'s sherry now to tone up these onions, Charley said ruefully. It would go well With that stew, taken out of a tin cup-eh, cookey? We had lots better at the club, the cook said, thoughtfully stirring the mess on the fire-It was laid in before you were born, Charley. Those were days, boys-but we'll drink many a bottle of it yet under the stars and bars! That we will, old man! and I'll c
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