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John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Major R--‘s little private scout. (search)
enemy. Behold the Major now in warlike panoply — that is to say, in fine gray dress coat with burnished buttons (for the eyes of Venus after the conflict with Mars); pistol carefully loaded, in holster on his right side; and sabre in excellent order, jingling against his top boots. It was a saying of the worthy, that he gene for the poor civilian. After all it is something to be a soldier. The trade is hard, but the feminine eye has a peculiar brightness when it rests on the sons of Mars!-of Mars, proverbially the favourite of Venus! The Major was an old soldier, and in no hurry to depart. He counted on the extent of the scare he had given theMars, proverbially the favourite of Venus! The Major was an old soldier, and in no hurry to depart. He counted on the extent of the scare he had given the enemy, and quietly enjoyed himself in the charming society of his hostesses. He had once more become excellent company. The smile had returned to his lips, the light to his eyes. That melancholy which had made his friends uneasy had quite disappeared, and the Major was himself again --that is to say, the gayest and most delig
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., How S.-carried off a Federal field-officer. (search)
cer looked at his captor, saw that he was quite in earnest, and replied: My name is Colonel — , and my regiment is the--Pennsylvania. All right, Colonel; I see we understand each other. Now I wish you would tell me anything you know that will interest me. And laughing in his low fashion, the scout rode on with his prisoner, whose good-humour gradually began to return. To explain this, it may be conjectured that S— had not upon this occasion encountered a very desperate son of Mars, but a philosopher who contemplated the probabilities of an early exchange, and submitted gracefully to his fate. In an hour the scout and his prisoner had become quite sociable. That was a daring act of yours, said the Colonel, and you have got out of this thing well. I rather think so, Colonel. I ought to have been more on my guard. Well done-yes, very well done; especially going through my camp! It will be seen that the two had grown quite friendly, and this amicable underst
The Annals of the Civil War Written by Leading Participants North and South (ed. Alexander Kelly McClure), The First iron-clad Monitor. (search)
should not consent to take any of the naval appropriation to cut off water communication, unless so ordered by the President; but should protest against obstructing the channel of — the river. Our conversation was very earnest, and the President attentively listened, but with an evident inclination to guard in every way against the Merrimac, but yet unwilling to interrupt ocean communication, so essential to Washington. Giving the interview a pleasant turn, he said that it was evident that Mars not only wanted exclusive control of military operations, (Stanton had manifested much dissatisfaction with McClellan as General-in-Chief,) but that he wanted a navy, and had begun to improvise one. Having already got his fleet, the President thought he might as well be permitted to finish his work, but he must not destroy communication on the Potomac, or cripple Neptune. The boats purchased might be loaded and sent down the river, but not sunk in the channel until it was known that the Me
Thomas C. DeLeon, Four years in Rebel capitals: an inside view of life in the southern confederacy, from birth to death., Chapter 32: press, literature and art. (search)
erever his people read anything, the classic finish of his Latane, the sweet caress of his Stuart and the bugle-blast of his Coercion and Word with the West, had assured John R. Thompson's fame. The liltful refrain of Maryland, my Maryland echoed from the Potomac to the Gulf; and the clarion-call James R. Randall so nobly used-There's life in the old land yet! warmed every southern heart, by the dead ashes on its hearth. Who does not remember Beechenbrook, that pure Vestal in the temple of Mars? Every tear of sympathy that fell upon its pages was a jewel above rubies, in the crown of its gentle author. Paul Hayne had won already the hearts of his own readers; and had gained transatlantic meed, in Tennyson's declaration that he was the sonneteer of America! And the yearning sorrow in all eyes that looked upon the fresh mound, above what was mortal of tender Henry Timrod, was more eloquent of worth than costly monuument, or labored epitaph. But not only the clang of action a
Thomas C. DeLeon, Four years in Rebel capitals: an inside view of life in the southern confederacy, from birth to death., Chapter 33: wit and humor of the war. (search)
is recalled of the spoiled body servant of a gallant Carolinian, one of General Wheeler's brigade commanders. His master reproved his speech thus: Peter, you rascal! Why don't you speak English, instead of saying ‘wah yo‘ is'? Waffer, Mars' Sam? queried the negro with an innocent grin. Yo allus calls de Gen'ral-Weel-er? Another, close following the occupation, has a spice of higher satire. A Richmond friend had a petted maid, who-devoted and constant to her mistress, even in those tempting days-still burned with genuine negro curiosity for a sight of everything pertaining to Mars Linkum's men --especially for de skule. For swift, indeed, were the newcome saints to preach the Evangel of alphabet; and negro schools seemed to have been smuggled in by every army ambulance, so numerously did they spring up in the captured Capital. So, early one day, Clarissa Sophia, the maid of color, donned her very best and, with shiny morning face, hied her, like anything but a sn
J. B. Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary, chapter 49 (search)
o the north side of the river. This may be a feint, but stirring events are casting their shadows before! March 14 Bright and pleasant, but indications of change. The papers contain no news from the armies, near or remote. But there was some alarm in the upper portion of the city about 9 P. M. last night, from a signal seen (appended to a balloon) just over the western horizon. It was stationary for ten minutes, a blood-red light, seen through a hazy atmosphere. I thought it was Mars, but my eldest daughter, a better astronomer than I, said it was neither the time nor place for it to be visible. The air was still, and the dismal barking of the ban-dogs conjured up the most direful portents. All my neighbors supposed it to be a signal from Sheridan to Grant, and that the city would certainly be attacked before morning. It was only a camp signal of one of our own detachments awaiting the approach of Sheridan. Sheridan's passage of the James River has not been confirm
Mrs. John A. Logan, Reminiscences of a Soldier's Wife: An Autobiography, Chapter 5: (search)
ls to a not over-clean board table, anything but tempting. A few months afterward the forbidding loaves would have been hailed with delight in place of the hardtack that had not been softened or rendered more palatable by being carried in a haversack for days. Doing guard and police duty with a lowering sky above them, and mud and water beneath their feet, made many a soldier sick at heart, and caused his courage to drop in the scale of heroism, when first learning the duties of a son of Mars. The discipline of walking to and fro with a gun on his shoulder in the wee small hours of a stormy night was a different thing from marching away on a gala-day to the tune of Yankee Doodle, or with the drums and fifes beating and whistling The girl I left behind me. I witnessed the departure of many of the men of the old 31st from cottages and more pretentious homes. At the sound of the roll-call could be seen great, manly fellows, folding their loved ones in a last fond embrace, and th
General James Longstreet, From Manassas to Appomattox, Chapter 27: Gettysburg-Second day. (search)
s dwarfed into the battle of the right at three o'clock, that on the left at eight by a single division, and that nearer the centre at nine o'clock by two brigades. There was a man on the left of the line who did not care to make the battle win. He knew where it was, had viewed it from its earliest formation, had orders for his part in it, but so withheld part of his command from it as to make co-operative concert of action impracticable. He had a pruriency for the honors of the field of Mars, was eloquent, before the fires of the bivouac and his chief, of the glory of war's gory shield; but when its envied laurels were dipping to the grasp, when the heavy field called for bloody work, he found the placid horizon, far and away beyond the cavalry, more lovely and inviting. He wanted command of the Second Corps, and, succeeding to it, held the honored position until General Lee found, at last, that he must dismiss him from field service. General Lee ordered Johnson's division o
General James Longstreet, From Manassas to Appomattox, Chapter 31: battle of Chickamauga. (search)
light hung heavy about the trees as if to hold down the voice of victory; but the two lines nearing as they advanced joined their continuous shouts in increasing volume, not as the burstings from the cannon's mouth, but in a tremendous swell of heroic harmony that seemed almost to lift from their roots the great trees of the forest. Before greetings and congratulations upon the success had passed it was night, and the mild beams of the quartering moon were more suggestive of Venus than of Mars. The haversacks and ammunition supplies were ordered replenished, and the Confederate army made its bivouac on the ground it had gained in the first pronounced victory in the West, and one of the most stubbornly contested battles of the war. Our cavalry had failed to close McFarland Gap, and through that General Thomas made his march for the stand at Rossville Gap. It has been stated that this retreat was made under the orders of the Union commander. General Thomas did, in fact, rec
Judith White McGuire, Diary of a southern refugee during the war, by a lady of Virginia, 1863. (search)
, which was soon tacked down, and gives a home-like, comfortable air to the room. November 11th, 1863. Just received a visit from my nephew, W. N., who is on his way to Fauquier to be married. I had not seen him since he lost his leg. He is still on crutches, and it made my heart bleed to see him walk with such difficulty. I believe that neither war, pestilence, nor famine could put an end to the marrying and giving in marriage which is constantly going on. Strange that these sons of Mars can so assiduously devote themselves to Cupid and Hymen; but every respite, every furlough, must be thus employed. I am glad they can accomplish it; and if the brave deserve the fair, I am sure that the deeds of daring of our Southern soldiers should have their reward. My niece, L. B., of Lexington, would have been married to-morrow night, but her betrothed, Captain S., has been ordered off to meet the enemy. The marriage is, of course, postponed. Poor fellow! I trust that he may come sa
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