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Chapter X journalism up to this point Stanley has told his own story. The chapter which follows is almost wholly a weaving together of material which he left. That material consists, first, of an occasional and very brief diary, which he kept from 1862; then, at irregular intervals through many years, entries in a fuller journal, and occasional comments and retrospects in his note-books, during the last peaceful years of life. He was discharged from Harper's Ferry, June 22, 1862. Then he seems to have turned his hand to one resource and another, to support himself; we find him harvesting in Maryland, and, later, on an oyster-schooner, getting upon his feet, and out of the whirlpool of war into which he had naturally been drawn by mere propinquity, so to speak; now his heart turned with longing to his own kin, and the belated affection which he trusted he might find. November, 1862. I arrived, in the ship E. Sherman, at Liverpool. I was very poor, in bad health, and
Chapter X journalism up to this point Stanley has told his own story. The chapter which follows is almost wholly a weaving together of material which he left. That material consists, first, of an occasional and very brief diary, which he kept from 1862; then, at irregular intervals through many years, entries in a fuller journal, and occasional comments and retrospects in his note-books, during the last peaceful years of life. He was discharged from Harper's Ferry, June 22, 1862. Then he seems to have turned his hand to one resource and another, to support himself; we find him harvesting in Maryland, and, later, on an oyster-schooner, getting upon his feet, and out of the whirlpool of war into which he had naturally been drawn by mere propinquity, so to speak; now his heart turned with longing to his own kin, and the belated affection which he trusted he might find. November, 1862. I arrived, in the ship E. Sherman, at Liverpool. I was very poor, in bad health, and
ring the last peaceful years of life. He was discharged from Harper's Ferry, June 22, 1862. Then he seems to have turned his hand to one resource and another, to support himself; we find him harvesting in Maryland, and, later, on an oyster-schooner, getting upon his feet, and out of the whirlpool of war into which he had naturally been drawn by mere propinquity, so to speak; now his heart turned with longing to his own kin, and the belated affection which he trusted he might find. November, 1862. I arrived, in the ship E. Sherman, at Liverpool. I was very poor, in bad health, and my clothes were shabby. I made my way to Denbigh, to my mother's house. With what pride I knocked at the door, buoyed up by a hope of being able to show what manliness I had acquired, not unwilling, perhaps, to magnify what I meant to become; though what I was, the excellence of my present position, was not so obvious to myself! Like a bride arraying herself in her best for her lover, I had arrange
of rebound towards the world of vigorous action, threw himself, for a time, into the life of the sea. The motive, apparently, was partly as a ready means of livelihood, and partly a relish for adventure; and adventure he certainly found. Through 1863, and the early months of 1864, he was in one ship and another, in the merchant service; sailing to the West Indies, Spain, and Italy. He condenses a ship-wreck into a two-line entry: Wrecked off Barcelona. Crew lost, in the night. Stripped naked, and swam to shore. Barrack of Carbineers . . . demanded my papers! The end of 1863 finds him in Brooklyn, New York, where we have another brief chronicle:-- Boarding with Judge X-----. Judge drunk; tried to kill his wife with hatchet; attempted three times.--I held him down all night. Next morning, exhausted; lighted cigar in parlour; wife came down — insulted and raved at me for smoking in her house! In August, 1864, he enlisted in the United States Navy, on the receiving ship
through all the stirring years of action and achievement; but it was guarded against such shocks as had earlier wounded it, by an habitual reserve, and an austere self-command. He returned to America, and, with a sort of rebound towards the world of vigorous action, threw himself, for a time, into the life of the sea. The motive, apparently, was partly as a ready means of livelihood, and partly a relish for adventure; and adventure he certainly found. Through 1863, and the early months of 1864, he was in one ship and another, in the merchant service; sailing to the West Indies, Spain, and Italy. He condenses a ship-wreck into a two-line entry: Wrecked off Barcelona. Crew lost, in the night. Stripped naked, and swam to shore. Barrack of Carbineers . . . demanded my papers! The end of 1863 finds him in Brooklyn, New York, where we have another brief chronicle:-- Boarding with Judge X-----. Judge drunk; tried to kill his wife with hatchet; attempted three times.--I held h
entry: Wrecked off Barcelona. Crew lost, in the night. Stripped naked, and swam to shore. Barrack of Carbineers . . . demanded my papers! The end of 1863 finds him in Brooklyn, New York, where we have another brief chronicle:-- Boarding with Judge X-----. Judge drunk; tried to kill his wife with hatchet; attempted three times.--I held him down all night. Next morning, exhausted; lighted cigar in parlour; wife came down — insulted and raved at me for smoking in her house! In August, 1864, he enlisted in the United States Navy, on the receiving ship North Carolina, and was then assigned to the Minnesota, and afterwards to the Moses H. Stuyvesant, where he served in the capacity of ship's writer. Nothing shows that he was impelled by any special motive of sympathy with the national cause. It has been told how he went into the Confederate service, as a boy naturally goes, carried along with the crowd. At this later time he may have caught something of the enthusiasm for t
his true occupation and career, as the observer and reporter of stirring events; later, he was to play his part as a maker of events. There is nothing to show just how or why he became a newspaper correspondent, but we know the where; and no ambitious reporter could ask a better chance for his first story than Stanley had when he witnessed the first and second attacks of the Federal forces on Fort Fisher, North Carolina. Those attacks are part of the history of the great war; how, in December, 1864, General Butler assailed the port from the sea, the explosion under its walls of a vessel charged with powder, being a performance as dramatic as many of Butler's military exploits; how, a year later, a carefully-planned expedition under General Terry, attacked the fort; how, after a two days bombardment by the fleet, two thousand sailors and marines were landed, under instructions to board the fort in a sea-man-like manner ; how they were repelled by a murderous fire, while a force of s
were landed, under instructions to board the fort in a sea-man-like manner ; how they were repelled by a murderous fire, while a force of soldiers assaulting from another side drove the defenders back, in a series of hand-to-hand contests, till the fort was won. On both those occasions, it fell to Stanley to watch the fight, to tell the story of it in his own lucid and vigorous style, and to have his letters welcomed by the newspapers, and given to the world. Three months later, in April, 1865, the war was ended, and Stanley left the Navy. Then, for a twelve-month, his diary gives only such glimpses of him as an occasional name of a place with date. St. Joseph, Missouri,--across the Plains,--Indians,--Salt Lake City,--Denver,--Black Hawk,--Omaha. Apparently through this time, he was impelled by an overflowing youthful energy, and an innate love of novelty and adventure. In his later years, he told how, in his early days, his exuberant vigour was such, that when a horse st
l my life, for I then vowed that this should be the last time I would have to condemn myself for a scandalous act of the kind. What an egregious fool I have been! Hang N----and all his gang! was my thought for many a day. Like David Copperfield's first supper-party, one such lesson was enough for a man who was to do a man's part; he never again fell under Circe's spell. But the hunger for robust exploit was there, and he had found a companion of kindred tastes. With W. H. Cook, in May, 1866, he started for Denver. We bought some planking and tools, and, in a few hours, constructed a flat-bottomed boat. Having furnished it with provisions and arms against the Indians, towards evening we floated down the Platte River. After twice up-setting, and many adventures and narrow escapes, we reached the Missouri River. From Omaha they travelled to Boston, where in July, 1866, they took a sailing-ship for Smyrna. They had planned to go far into Asia. The precise nature of their
the hunger for robust exploit was there, and he had found a companion of kindred tastes. With W. H. Cook, in May, 1866, he started for Denver. We bought some planking and tools, and, in a few hours, constructed a flat-bottomed boat. Having furnished it with provisions and arms against the Indians, towards evening we floated down the Platte River. After twice up-setting, and many adventures and narrow escapes, we reached the Missouri River. From Omaha they travelled to Boston, where in July, 1866, they took a sailing-ship for Smyrna. They had planned to go far into Asia. The precise nature of their plan is not recounted; but there is little doubt that Stanley was acting partly as a newspaper-correspondent. What was the base of supplies, or how ambitious were their hopes, is not told; but they went on their own resources, and were well provided with money. Stanley seems from the first to have commanded good prices for his newspaper work, and he notes that he early took warning
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