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Hertford, N. C. (North Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.29
d tents, and use them as protection against the chilling winds and intensely cold weather, as well as receptacles for their little stores. December 10th, 11th, 12th and 13th Several Confederate officers were brought in from Fortress Monroe and Fort Fisher, North Carolina. Among them were Colonel J. W. Hinton, of Elizabeth City, North Carolina; Major R. C. Taylor, of Norfolk, Virginia, a brother of Colonel W. H. Taylor, A. A. General to General Lee; Lieutenant J. A. Morgan, of Hertford, North Carolina, and others. Our meals are growing exceedingly scanty, and there is universal complaint of hunger. The hours for meals are looked forward to with growing eagerness. Daily talk of the long-looked and longed — for exchange keeps us in comparatively good spirits, and with games of chess, cards and draughts, we manage to kill time. Some of my own men are in the Bull pen, and I occasionally receive notes from them, brought by working parties and prisoners, who manage to get a permit
Winchester, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.29
Twelfth Alabama regiment. [continued from October Number.] December 9th, 1864 Letters have been received from Captain Hewlett, now at Fort Delaware; from Misses Lizzie Swartzwelder, Nena Kiger, Gertie Coffroth and Jennie Taylor, of Winchester, and Misses Anna McSherry, Mollie Harlan and Mary Alburtis, of Martinsburg. The dear young ladies who write me so promptly and so kindly have my warmest gratitude for their cheering letters. These charming, hitherto unknown Cousins, contributd is an uncompromising Democrat. He has lived among the Southern people, formed friendships there, and understands their peculiar institution — slavery. His letter is very kind and full of sympathy, and he offers to aid me. Alfred Parkins, of Winchester, a prisoner in the Bull pen, as the quarters of the privates is designated, came to see Lieutenant Arrington, having as a guard over him a coal-black, brutal-looking negro soldier, an escaped contraband, as Beast Butler styles the stolen and re
Andersonville, Ga. (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.29
y miss me? 'Twould be an assurance most dear To know that some loved one was saying, To-day I wish he were here. Those touching words, too, of Home, sweet home flash before my memory, and I cannot restrain the tears that rush to my eyes. Over three months have passed since I have heard from home and mother. What changes may have occurred since my capture, the 19th of September! Two of my brothers are members of the First Georgia reserves, now guarding the 30,000 Yankee prisoners at Andersonville--one is major, and the other, a youth of sixteen years, is one of Captain Wirz's sergeants. These two are no doubt absent from the annual home reunion. Others may be too. I hope and feel that my brothers are civil and kind to the Yankees they are guarding. They are too brave to act otherwise. My poor prison dinner was in sad contrast with my Christmas dinners at home. It consisted of beef soup, a small piece of pickled beef, some rice and a slice of loaf bread. Lastly, to our aston
Manchester (New Hampshire, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.29
r, let me juice it awhile. This letter must have been overlooked or very hurriedly read by the prison inspectors who examine all letters and condemn hundreds of them, or I would never have been permitted to receive it. Sam says it is bitter cold at Elmira, and he has but one blanket. They have snows several feet deep. Poor Dick Noble, from Big hungry, near Tuskegee, died a prisoner at Elmira. He was a faithful fellow. A kind letter was received, too, from Mr. J. W. Fellows, of Manchester, New Hampshire, who, with Professor William Johns, prepared me for college at Brownwood Institute, La Grange, Georgia, in 1859. He is now practicing law, and is an uncompromising Democrat. He has lived among the Southern people, formed friendships there, and understands their peculiar institution — slavery. His letter is very kind and full of sympathy, and he offers to aid me. Alfred Parkins, of Winchester, a prisoner in the Bull pen, as the quarters of the privates is designated, came to see
Tuskegee (Alabama, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.29
at Elmira, looking up piteously and pleadingly at him, as he sucked a bare beef-bone, said: Mr., when you finish that bone, please, sir, let me juice it awhile. This letter must have been overlooked or very hurriedly read by the prison inspectors who examine all letters and condemn hundreds of them, or I would never have been permitted to receive it. Sam says it is bitter cold at Elmira, and he has but one blanket. They have snows several feet deep. Poor Dick Noble, from Big hungry, near Tuskegee, died a prisoner at Elmira. He was a faithful fellow. A kind letter was received, too, from Mr. J. W. Fellows, of Manchester, New Hampshire, who, with Professor William Johns, prepared me for college at Brownwood Institute, La Grange, Georgia, in 1859. He is now practicing law, and is an uncompromising Democrat. He has lived among the Southern people, formed friendships there, and understands their peculiar institution — slavery. His letter is very kind and full of sympathy, and he off
Patrick Henry (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.29
B. B. Gayles, of my own beloved regiment, and by hosts of other gallant officers and no less brave privates, who have been transferred from the Confederate army to that glorious encampment where the white tents of the just are never struck, and where the laureled soldier bleeds and dies no more. The great Captain of us all has promoted these Rebels to higher rank. and given them more honorable and exalted commissions. George Washington, Francis Marion, Israel Putnam, Thomas Jefferson, Patrick Henry and Light horse Harry Lee (father of our beloved R. E. Lee), were all Rebels. The glorious name is the patronym of all the mighty dead of this land. Almost every name held in honor is that of a Rebel: Rebels give names to our universities and colleges, to our charitable institutions, to our counties, cities and streets. The greatest and noblest of our dead, the purest and most honored of our living, bear the grand old names of Rebels. No efforts of Lincoln, Seward, Stanton, Beast But
Fort Fisher (North Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.29
nness and littleness. Parkins showed us some very amusing caricatures, or cartoons, depicting the humorous side of prison life. The pictures evinced real genius. Many of the men have dug deep pits, or cellars, beneath their cabins and tents, and use them as protection against the chilling winds and intensely cold weather, as well as receptacles for their little stores. December 10th, 11th, 12th and 13th Several Confederate officers were brought in from Fortress Monroe and Fort Fisher, North Carolina. Among them were Colonel J. W. Hinton, of Elizabeth City, North Carolina; Major R. C. Taylor, of Norfolk, Virginia, a brother of Colonel W. H. Taylor, A. A. General to General Lee; Lieutenant J. A. Morgan, of Hertford, North Carolina, and others. Our meals are growing exceedingly scanty, and there is universal complaint of hunger. The hours for meals are looked forward to with growing eagerness. Daily talk of the long-looked and longed — for exchange keeps us in comparatively
Elizabeth City (North Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.29
or cartoons, depicting the humorous side of prison life. The pictures evinced real genius. Many of the men have dug deep pits, or cellars, beneath their cabins and tents, and use them as protection against the chilling winds and intensely cold weather, as well as receptacles for their little stores. December 10th, 11th, 12th and 13th Several Confederate officers were brought in from Fortress Monroe and Fort Fisher, North Carolina. Among them were Colonel J. W. Hinton, of Elizabeth City, North Carolina; Major R. C. Taylor, of Norfolk, Virginia, a brother of Colonel W. H. Taylor, A. A. General to General Lee; Lieutenant J. A. Morgan, of Hertford, North Carolina, and others. Our meals are growing exceedingly scanty, and there is universal complaint of hunger. The hours for meals are looked forward to with growing eagerness. Daily talk of the long-looked and longed — for exchange keeps us in comparatively good spirits, and with games of chess, cards and draughts, we manage to k
North Carolina (North Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.29
pain. Instead of giving me some nourishing food, my principal diet is weak beef soup and blanc mange. Lieut. Reagan, who suffers a great deal, shares my detestation for blanc mange. December 21st, 22d, 23d and 24th Our prison circle has been thrown into a state of feverish excitement by the perpetration of one of the most brutal and cowardly outrages ever inflicted upon unarmed, helpless, wounded prisoners of war and brave, honorable gentlemen and soldiers. Lieutenant Morgan, of North Carolina, and Lieutenant Hudgins, of Virginia, were apprehended in a very daring and reckless attempt to escape from the Point, by seizing a small boat fastened to the river bank and rowing to the Virginia shore. Both of these officers had been wounded, and Hudgins was still on crutches, and the probabilities are, if they had not been swamped and drownded during the dark blustering night, that the terrible cold and piercing wind would have frozen them to death, clothed as they were, before they
Newtown (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 5.29
and indignation. The very confusion and turmoil is monotony. Private Sam Brewer, of my company, also wrote me from Elmira, New York, where he is confined as a prisoner of war. Sam was the well known, humorous sutler of the Twelfth Alabama. He says that a poor, starving Tar Heel at Elmira, looking up piteously and pleadingly at him, as he sucked a bare beef-bone, said: Mr., when you finish that bone, please, sir, let me juice it awhile. This letter must have been overlooked or very hurriedly l letters and condemn hundreds of them, or I would never have been permitted to receive it. Sam says it is bitter cold at Elmira, and he has but one blanket. They have snows several feet deep. Poor Dick Noble, from Big hungry, near Tuskegee, died a prisoner at Elmira. He was a faithful fellow. A kind letter was received, too, from Mr. J. W. Fellows, of Manchester, New Hampshire, who, with Professor William Johns, prepared me for college at Brownwood Institute, La Grange, Georgia, in 1859. H
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