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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Historic leaves, volume 4, April, 1905 - January, 1906. Search the whole document.

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better apply at once. Let the store go. Please write very soon, if you do not come home, for I shall feel anxious to hear how you succeed in enlisting. Mother. (Extract.) Boston, September 10, 1861. My dear Mother: Your letter of the 7th inst. received this noon has filled my heart with joy. A thousand thanks for such words as these—words both of consent and blessing. I surely have no desire to bathe my hands in my brother's blood, but when he madly threatens to destroy, not only mehat disguised. The next morning we hauled around to Hilton Head and anchored to await the Mississippi, which had experienced additional trouble. At high noon on the thirteenth both ships beat to quarters, and we resumed our voyage. On the seventh day from Hilton Head, after suffering the tortures of the damned from both hunger and thirst (from the details of which, good Lord deliver us), a gun-boat hove to across our bow, and ascertaining that ours was a troop ship bound for Ship Island,
March 9th (search for this): chapter 7
quarters the sergeant did not receive a reprimand for any dereliction of duty. Our picket line extended into a dense oak wood, and as I made the rounds at night I frequently heard the sharp click of the musket as it was brought to a full cock, the sentinel being too scared to challenge, and I was obliged to announce my approach to the challenge of the click. One of the scared sentinels said afterwards that he guessed I was the only one that night in danger of being shot. On the ninth of March (a notable day in my calendar) we struck tents and embarked on the steamship Matanzas, the general deeming it wise to transfer the Thirty-first regiment to our quarters on the Mississippi lest the hastily patched bow should break adrift and endanger the lives of those in the forward compartment. Our seven days run ashore was a blessing somewhat disguised. The next morning we hauled around to Hilton Head and anchored to await the Mississippi, which had experienced additional trouble.
Personal Experience of a Union Veteran By Levi Lindley Hawes About 12 o'clock one August night in 1862, as I sat in my tent at Fort Jackson, La., making out a Post Return—or perhaps writing to the girl I left behind me—I was interrupted by the quiet entrance of the commandant. Ye gods! what do I see? I exclaimed, as the lieutenant-colonel stood before me in full evening (or night) dress. I thought you were asleep hours ago. I have been asleep, he replied, but when I awoke and saw a light in your tent, I said to myself, this witching hour of night is a proper time for me to ask Levi what prompted or induced him to enter the service. You, an only son, left a delightful, happy home,—I simply left the state of Maine. Why did you enlist in the military service? After an hour's friendly chat, I think the colonel retired in the firm conviction that I had a valid reason for connecting myself as sergeant in company I, Thirteenth Maine Regiment Infantry. With varied phraseology th<
ompletely done, I will bury the sword. It does seem to me that it is my duty to offer my services to my country; and, God helping me, I will never disgrace my more than Spartan mother. My whole soul cries go. You say go. And does not the providence of God indicate that it is my duty to rally for the strife? Oh, the terrible, the thrice terrible necessity! But it must be met. Yours affectionately, Levi. But there is a long gap between this period and the beginning of my history. In 1833 two notable events occurred. First, the Anti-Slavery Society was born. Then, according to the record—which I have been assured is absolutely correct—a boy was born in the town of Union, Me., Lincoln county (now Knox), adjoining Hope, adjoining Liberty, and in process of time this boy necessarily became, in the main, a hopeful union, Lincoln, liberty-loving, American citizen. On that April day, when a gun-carriage went rumbling past my store, corner Beacon and Tremont streets, bearing th
October 21st, 1861 AD (search for this): chapter 7
he town of Union, Me., Lincoln county (now Knox), adjoining Hope, adjoining Liberty, and in process of time this boy necessarily became, in the main, a hopeful union, Lincoln, liberty-loving, American citizen. On that April day, when a gun-carriage went rumbling past my store, corner Beacon and Tremont streets, bearing the bodies of Ladd and Whitney, killed in Baltimore, I recorded a vow. As soon thereafter as possible, I turned the key on my mercantile business, and on the twenty-first day of October, 1861, my name was writ large on the enlistment roll; and from that date my time and means were devoted to the business of inducing men to enlist in the Thirteenth Maine Regiment, which was to be attached to General Butler's division for special service,—until the regiment was mustered into the United States service at the arsenal in Augusta,—December 31, 1861. Here we lived in tents half buried in snow, often drilling in snow knee deep, with the mercury at or below zero, till Februa
February 28th, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 7
e would allow. I have been on the rocks off an inhospitable coast of South America, and on a lee shore elsewhere, but perhaps this was the most trying situation of all, because in this case infinitely more was involved. Although the situation seemed desperate I never lost courage for a moment. From my diary I have written out somewhat in detail an account of our experience on Frying-Pan Shoals; but to-night I can give you only a glimpse of what stared us in the face on that twenty-eighth day of February, 1862. Of course I had but a superficial knowledge of our surroundings, but the school had been opened and I was in the mood to put myself in training. To my amazement I found that the port anchor had been let go, notwithstanding the fact that that end of the ship was already stuck fast in the mud. As General Butler came on deck he asked the captain, What's that? pointing to the flag, Union down, in the port fore rigging. Flag of distress, said the skipper. Can you display it
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