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Browsing named entities in a specific section of The Daily Dispatch: July 29, 1864., [Electronic resource]. Search the whole document.

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James Island (South Carolina, United States) (search for this): article 5
On the 21st August, at half past 1 A M, I was lying on my bed in the Charleston Hotel, unable to sleep from the excessive heat, and listening to the monotonous sound of the cannonade kept up on the enemy's position from the batteries on James Island. Restless and weary of the night, I had lighted a candle in defiance of the mosquitos, and sought to pass away the time with a volume of "Les Miscrables" It happened to be the one containing the account of the battle of Waterloo, and white deing on my way sick and bedridden people, carried from their homes on mattresses, and mothers with infants in their arms, running they know not whither. Reaching the promenade, I cast my eyes towards the Federal position, and presently, beyond James Island, across the marsh that separates it from Morris Island, came a flash, then a dull report, and after an interval of some seconds a frightful rushing sound above me told the path that the shell had taken. Its flight must have been five miles.
Morris Island (South Carolina, United States) (search for this): article 5
rganized rapidly and quietly, to be in readiness to give assistance where required. The first engine that reached the house struck by the first shell was one belonging to a negro company, and at it they went with a will, subduing the fire in a marvelous short time. At every successive whirr above them the negroes situated quaint invectives against "cussed bobolitiontats," scattering for shelter until the danger was passed Through the streets I went, and down to the battery promenade, meeting on my way sick and bedridden people, carried from their homes on mattresses, and mothers with infants in their arms, running they know not whither. Reaching the promenade, I cast my eyes towards the Federal position, and presently, beyond James Island, across the marsh that separates it from Morris Island, came a flash, then a dull report, and after an interval of some seconds a frightful rushing sound above me told the path that the shell had taken. Its flight must have been five miles.
August 21st (search for this): article 5
Effe of the Shells Fired into Charleston. A writer in the Cornhill Magazine graphically describes his experience of a night in a Charleston hotel during a bombardment by the Union forces. He says: On the 21st August, at half past 1 A M, I was lying on my bed in the Charleston Hotel, unable to sleep from the excessive heat, and listening to the monotonous sound of the cannonade kept up on the enemy's position from the batteries on James Island. Restless and weary of the night, I had lighted a candle in defiance of the mosquitos, and sought to pass away the time with a volume of "Les Miscrables" It happened to be the one containing the account of the battle of Waterloo, and white deeply interested in the description of the rushing squadrons of cuirassier, I was startled by a noise that, from connection with my reading, resembled the where of a phantom brigade of cavalry, galloping in mid air. My first feeling was that of utter astonishment; but a crash, succeeded by a