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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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Baltimore, Md. (Maryland, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
nti-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 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, 1
Hilton Head (South Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
ook a sailing-master from the Mt. Vernon and laid our course for Port Royal (Hilton Head), where we arrived March 2 with our forward compartment full of water. and . The next day we hauled around to Seabrook Landing, about eight miles from Hilton Head, and disembarked. The first night we were quartered in a cotton shed, pole ur battalion was moved out about half a mile from the landing on the road to Hilton Head, to serve as picket guard. We pitched our tents in a cotton field; and heree was a blessing somewhat disguised. The next morning we hauled around to Hilton Head and anchored to await the Mississippi, which had experienced additional trouhips 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 (fro comrades who had sailed from New York had arrived while we were stranded at Hilton Head, and as we came to anchor gave us hearty cheers from the shore, and we retu
Union, Me. (Maine, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
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 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
Augusta (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
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 February 18, 1862, at which date we dug ourselves out of several feet of snow and ice and took train for Bad. The next day we hauled around to Seabrook Landing, about eight miles from Hilton Head, and disembarked. The first night we were quartered in a cotton shed, pole floor, and it is my belief that we suffered more from cold than we ever did in Augusta, and the poles were the knottiest and crokedest that ever grew upright. Our flesh was torn as well as our clothes. A wag had For rent pinned to the tail of his coat. I didn't need a placard, but rather needle and thread and court-plaster.
Fort Jackson (Louisiana, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
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 t<
South America (search for this): chapter 7
er, let us make sure of our potatoes. As we went below I heard the gong sound in the engine room, and at that instant the ship came to a full stop, but without a perceptible jar, on Frying-Pan Shoals—and within the five minutes specified. Adequately to describe our experience during the eleven hours we were stranded on the worst coast of the United States would take more time than this occasion affords or your patience 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 sur
Massachusetts (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
cided to go. Well, go, if you think you can endure the exposure and hardships of camp life; and may God bless you in all your endeavors to serve our country, and give you health, strength, and ability equal to your calling. If you do enter your country's service, attach yourself to a cavalry squadron, by all means. I send you a paper to call your attention to the notice of a company which is to be recruited in Maine; and you will see that it is more advantageous to enlist here than in Massachusetts. If you wish to obtain a situation in this company, you had 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
Cape Fear (North Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
called away with an officer in charge to ascertain the nationality of the ship. She proved to be the United States gunboat Mount Vernon, on blockade duty off Cape Fear river. She had fortunately seen the flash of our gun, but was too far off to hear the report, and immediately started to investigate. Imagination alone can picture forth our feelings of relief at having a United States gun-boat between us and the rebel fort at the mouth of Cape Fear river—not to mention the rising wind and muttering sea, which would soon reduce the good ship Mississippi to a scrap heap unless relieved at flood tide. Captain Glisson of the Mt. Vernon shook his head as hawsecount of the heavy sea, were with great difficulty hoisted aboard. A few hours later, piloted by the Mt. Vernon, we let go our anchor near the mouth of the Cape Fear river. The next morning we took a sailing-master from the Mt. Vernon and laid our course for Port Royal (Hilton Head), where we arrived March 2 with our forward
Savannah River (United States) (search for this): chapter 7
pinned to the tail of his coat. I didn't need a placard, but rather needle and thread and court-plaster. Our battalion was moved out about half a mile from the landing on the road to Hilton Head, to serve as picket guard. We pitched our tents in a cotton field; and here I had my first experience as a Southern field-hand, from which duty I was detailed to serve as sergeant of the guard. Soon the rumor spread through the camp that the rebels were in force between our position and the Savannah river, and I detected a nervousness on the part of some of the guard. Early in the afternoon the officer of the day said he was sick, and, as all the other officers were on duty at the landing, he would turn over the command of the guard to me. (A year later he acknowledged that he was scared, not sick.) As the officer of the day disappeared a staff officer dashed into our camp and inquired for Sergeant Hawes. Presenting myself, the officer said, The general's compliments, and he orders
Ship Island (Mississippi, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
ty-fifth, the engines began to throb, and shortly the capes were left astern. Our final (?) departure was taken, and Ship Island was announced as our destination. About 7 o'clock p. m. on the twenty-sixth I was standing in the lee of the pilot 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, informed us that we were within five hours sail of our long-sought — for port. Every soldier gave voice to his feetion. (Blessing on the man who invented forgetfulness.) Four hundred pairs of eyes were shortly on the lookout for Ship Island. By and by masts appeared, and then the hulls came into view, but not the slightest indication of land. Vessels onlye. They have been in a starving condition for days, and yet not one breach of discipline has come to my knowledge. Ship Island—chiefly barren sand—is about six miles long, and perhaps half a mile wide at its widest part, and rises only a few fee<
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