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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 11. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones). Search the whole document.

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Waterloo, Seneca County, New York (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
rgeon was the Colonel of the regiment that had charged the Seventeenth. He appeared to be mortally hurt, and was deathly pale. Hurrying us back a few hundred yards on the top of a hill, out of the reach of shot and shell, captured and capturers turned to look at the scene before them. As far as our eye could reach our forces seemed to be giving ground; and as line after line of the Yankee reserves pushed forward it looked dark for the Rebels—it seemed to us as if Sharpsburg was to be our Waterloo. A frightful struggle was now going on in the woods half a mile or so to our left. It appeared to us as if all the demons of hell had been unloosed—all the dogs of war unleashed to prey upon and rend each other; long volleys of musketry vomited their furious discharges of pestilential lead; the atmosphere was crowded by the exploding shells; baleful fires gleamed through the foliage, as if myriads of fireflies were flitting through the boughs, and there was a fringe of vivid, sparkling
Malplaquet (France) (search for this): chapter 2
lue, and felt his heart sink within him. Yet who could not but feel pride at such soldiers as these; they were the fleur de mille of the army. They had kept up in this campaign solely by an unquenchable pride and indomitable will. As dirty, as gaunt, as tattered as they looked, they were gentlemen. One could say of them, as Marshal Villars had cried out with uncontrollable enthusiasm, as he witnessed the Scotch gentry fighting in the ranks under the Chevalier St. George at the battle of Malplaquet: Pardi! un gentilhomme est toujours gentilhomme. Yes, that thin string of tattered men, lying there with their bright rifles clasped tight in their hands, had marched onward, and onward, though their gaunt frames seemed as if they would sink at every step, they had followed their colors on the hot, dusty march, with fatigue relaxing their muscles, closing their eyes and deadening their wills, they had dragged themselves along to the battle-field with stone-bruised feet; they had fought
Auburn, N. Y. (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
ever heard of before, and yet which in one day awoke to find itself famous, and the hills around it historic. This tiny town was a quiet, cool, still place—like the locality where Rip Van Winkle lived his days. One could almost imagine he saw the shambling figure, followed by his dog, disappear up the far street, and from just such a casement Dame Gretchen must have fired her farewell shot at her lazy, good-for-nothing spouse. The hamlet was deserted now—more so probably than our Sweet Auburn, the loveliest village of the plain, ever was—not a soul was to be seen, the setting sun tinged the windows with its glowing rays, and made more vivid the dark background of the high hills beyond. The setting sun, ah, many eyes, all unconscious, looked their last upon the glowing incandescence as they stood on the crest watching the bright luminary going down. O, setting sun awhile delay, Linger on sea and shore, For thousand eyes now gaze on thee, That shall not see thee more; A thousand<
Harper's Ferry (West Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
erything before them; another moment and all is altered. The disordered ranks of blue come rushing back in disorder, while the Rebels followed fast, and then bullethitting around us caused guards and prisoners to decamp. What was the import of this? None could tell, but still the reflux tide bore us back with it. At last a prisoner, a wounded Rebel officer, was being supported back to the rear, and we asked him, and the reply came back: Stonewall Jackson has just gotten back from Harper's Ferry, those troops fighting the Yankees now are A. P. Hill's division. Well, we felt all right, if Old Stonewall was up, none need care about the result. Still forward came the wave of gray, still backward receeded the billows of blue, heralded by warning hiss of the bullets, the sparkling of the rifle flashes, the purplish vapor settling like a veil over the lines, the mingled hurrahs and wild yells, and the bass accompaniment over on our left of the hoarse cannonading. Back we went,
Sharpsburg (Maryland, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
A high private's sketch of Sharpsburg. Paper no. 2. By Alexander Hunter. [Conclusion.] Late in the evening the column halted near Sharpsburg, a little village nestling at the bottom of the hills, a simple countrtember found our command in a line in the rear of Sharpsburg; we are very tired with marching, exhausted with . After this dejeuner, a squad of us went into Sharpsburg. The enemy's artillery had begun to play upon th position was directly in front of the village of Sharpsburg, on a high hill, behind a new post and rail fencee-fifth of its full ranks. Our army surrounded Sharpsburg in a semi-circle, and we could lie there and hearw in two platoons of fifty men each, carried into Sharpsburg but two muskets (the writer and one other), comma looked dark for the Rebels—it seemed to us as if Sharpsburg was to be our Waterloo. A frightful struggle wss windows of the houses of the little village of Sharpsburg, and made them shine like fire, brighter, more vi
Antietam Creek (United States) (search for this): chapter 2
s peculiar, consisting of a succession of undulating hills and corresponding valleys. The elevation that we were on sunk rather abruptly to a deep bottom, and then rose suddenly, forming another hill, the crest of which was about sixty yards from the top of the eminence where we rested. Any attacking force would be invisible until they arrived on the top of the crest opposite, and in pistol-shot distance, or what we call point blank musketry range. On our front about a mile away was Antietam creek, spanned by a bridge. This was guarded by Toombs's Georgia brigade, which was only a skeleton command, being about one-fifth of its full ranks. Our army surrounded Sharpsburg in a semi-circle, and we could lie there and hear and see the raging frenzied battle on our left. The reports of the cannon were incessant and deafening: at times it seemed as if a hundred guns would explode simultaneously, and then run off at intervals into splendid file firing. No language can describe its a
H. B. McClellan (search for this): chapter 2
the ground to watch the battle. It was nearly night, the last gleam of the sun's rays struck upon the glass windows of the houses of the little village of Sharpsburg, and made them shine like fire, brighter, more vivid, than even the flames bursting from one house that had been set on fire by an exploding shell. At last the bridge is reached—the stone bridge that crosses Antietam creek—the key point of the Federal position, the weak point in their line, the spot so anxiously watched by McClellan, for he sent repeated dispatches to Burnside late that evening, as A. P. Hill bore back the advancing tide—his order was: Hold on to the bridge at all hazards; if the bridge is lost all is lost. Here was the point Toombs's Georgians made such a gallant defence of the river early in the forenoon, and the dead lay thick all around. But the battle in our front ceased suddenly, though on other parts of the field it still kept up. As we approached the bridge we were astonished to see so m<
Burnside (search for this): chapter 2
ntietam creek—the key point of the Federal position, the weak point in their line, the spot so anxiously watched by McClellan, for he sent repeated dispatches to Burnside late that evening, as A. P. Hill bore back the advancing tide—his order was: Hold on to the bridge at all hazards; if the bridge is lost all is lost. Here wase bridge we were astonished to see so many troops—not a man under ten thousand said my comrade—and they were all fresh troops. Certainly, there was no danger of Burnside losing the bridge, with all those splendid soldiers ready to defend it. Had those men advanced early in the day, instead of being held back, it would have been af field hospital here, and the desperately hurt in the immediate front were left at this point. And, besides, a fierce struggle had occurred between Toombs and Burnside's corps, and though short it was sharp and bloody. The dead were many. A group of four figures in blue lay together just as they had fallen—all killed by th
A. P. Hill (search for this): chapter 2
ck to the rear, and we asked him, and the reply came back: Stonewall Jackson has just gotten back from Harper's Ferry, those troops fighting the Yankees now are A. P. Hill's division. Well, we felt all right, if Old Stonewall was up, none need care about the result. Still forward came the wave of gray, still backward receedehe Federal position, the weak point in their line, the spot so anxiously watched by McClellan, for he sent repeated dispatches to Burnside late that evening, as A. P. Hill bore back the advancing tide—his order was: Hold on to the bridge at all hazards; if the bridge is lost all is lost. Here was the point Toombs's Georgians maday, instead of being held back, it would have been a black day for the South, and the Yankees would have gained a glorious victory, for we had no reserves, and A. P. Hill was miles away in the morning. The ground all about the bridge was covered with the dead and wounded, for the Yankees had established a sort of field hospita
Toombs (search for this): chapter 2
about a mile away was Antietam creek, spanned by a bridge. This was guarded by Toombs's Georgia brigade, which was only a skeleton command, being about one-fifth of o the clouds. Listen! the fight has commenced down at Antietam bridge, where Toombs lies with his Georgians. The Yankees have commenced to shell their front, whic and swells into a full compass: there is sharp work going on. In about an hour Toombs's brigade came rushing back, its lines broken, but its spirit and morale all riess and save the village, the coveted prize, from falling into their hands; but Toombs's Georgia brigade, which had been driven from the Antietam bridge early in the were left at this point. And, besides, a fierce struggle had occurred between Toombs and Burnside's corps, and though short it was sharp and bloody. The dead were ain of cars; a solid shot had struck him in the centre of the body. Another of Toombs's brigade was shot just as he was taking aim; one eye was still open, while the
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