Monthly Archives: April 2018


The following is a prayer offered by a colored man at a funeral, and reported by Dr. Calkins, Surgeon of a Mass. regiment:

“Massa Jesus, like de people ob de ole time, de Jews, we weep by de side ob de ribber, wid de strings ob de harp all broke; but we sing ob de broken heart, as dem people could not do. Hear us, King, in de present state ob our sorrow. You know, King Jesus, honey, we just got from de Red Sea, and wander in de wilderness, a poor, feeble portion ob de children ob Adam, feeble in body, feeble in mind, and need de help ob de good Almighty God. O, help us, if you please, to homes, for we’s got no homes, Massa Jesus, but de shelter ob de oak tree in de daytime, and de shelter of de cotton tent at night. Help us for our own good and de good of God’s blessed Union people, dat want all people free, whatsomebber be de color. Massa Jesus, you know de deep tribulations ob our hearts, dat sickness is among us, dat our children is dyin’ in de camp; and as we tote ’em from one place to tudder, and bury dem in de cold ground, to go in spirit to de God ob de people whar de soul hab no spot nor color. Great King ob Kings, and Doctor ob Doctors, and God ob battles! help us to be well; help us to be able to fight wid de Union sogers de battle for de Union; help us to fight for liberty, fight for de country, fight for our own homes, and our own free children, and our children’s children. Fotch out, God ob battles, de big guns wid de big bustin’ shells, and gib dem God-forsaken secesh, dat would carry to shame our wives and daughters. O, mighty Jesus! if you please, a right smart charge ob grape and canister; make ’em glad to stop de war and come back to shoes and de fatted calf, and de good tings ob de Union. No more murderin’ brudder ob de Norf States. No more ragged, bare feet. No more slave-whippers and slave-sellers. No more faders ob yellow skins. No more meaner as meanest niggers.”

Originally posted 2009-09-25 18:06:41.

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The following conversation occurred at Normandy, Tennessee, between a Confederate prisoner, captured at Knoxville, and the correspondent of a Northern paper:

“Are you going to take the oath?”

“No; I’ll rot in prison first.”

“What are you fighting for?”

“Our rights.”

“What are your rights?”

“Well,”—hesitating, and attempting to clear his throat,—-“well, I can’t ‘xactly tell yer; the fact is, I can’t read; but there’s them that does know.”

Originally posted 2009-09-24 23:19:43.

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COLONEL GILLEM was one day reprimanding one of his soldiers, who was slightly intoxicated at the time. After the Colonel had concluded, the soldier remarked, “Yez wuddint have occasion to talk to me so ef I had a pistol.” The Colonel, much astonished, asked, “Well, sir, what would you do if you had a pistol?” “Why, I’d shoot—–myself, sir.”

Originally posted 2009-09-24 03:29:03.

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MARCH on, ye children of the brave–
Descendants of the free!
On to the hero’s bloody grave,
Or glorious liberty!
On, on–with clashing sword and drum;
The foe!–they come! they come!–strike home!
For more than safety, or for life,–
For more than mother, child, or wife,
Strike home for Liberty!

Charge, charge! nor shed the pitying tear;
Too long hath mercy plead!
Charge, charge! and share the hero’s bier,
Or strike the foeman dead!
Charge, charge! for more than vital gains,
Strike home, and rend the freeman’s chains,
For more than safety, or for life,–
For more than mother, child, or wife,
Strike home for Liberty!

Draw, draw–by every hope this hour
That animate the brave!
Draw!–strike!–and rend the foeman’s power,
Or fill the patriot’s grave!
Strike–die–or conquer with the free!
Strike home, strike home for Liberty!
For more than glory, safety, life,–
For more than mother, child, or wife,
Strike home for Liberty!

Originally posted 2009-09-21 22:37:40.

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