Monthly Archives: September 2019

AN OLD WOMAN’S WELCOME TO THE FLAG.–

A correspondent at Monticello, Kentucky, speaking of the manner in which the people received the national troops in the advance on that place, says, “One old lady, a mile beyond this place, said, as she saw the columns rushing .. the rebels, ‘When I seed that old flag comin’, I jist throwed my old bonnet on the ground and stomped it.'”

Originally posted 2009-04-03 00:22:44.

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A YOUNG HERO.–

A correspondent at Cincinnati gives the following touching incident of the hospital: “The eyes of a youth but twenty0one years of age, by name W. N. Bullard, of company A, Eighth Illinois regiment, were closed in death yesterday morning, at the Marine Hospital in this city, by the tender hands of that noble-hearted and faithful woman, Mrs. Caldwell, who has been unwearied in her personal attention to the sick and wounded since the establishment of the Marine as a military hospital for its present purpose. Young Bullard was shot in the breast at Fort Donelson. The ball, a minie, tore his breast open, and lacerated an artery. He bled internally as well as externally. At every gasp, as his end drew near, the blood spirted from his breast. He expired at nine o’clock. Early in the day, when he became fully aware that he could not live long, he showed that he clung to life, and was loath to leave it; but he cried: ‘If I could only see my mother–if I could only see my mother before I die, I should be better satisfied.’ He was conscious to the last moment, almost, and after reminding Mrs. Caldwell that there were several letters for his mother in his portfolio, she breathed words of consolation to him: ‘You die in a glorious cause–you die for your country.’ ‘Yes,’ replied he, ‘I am proud to die for my country.'”

Originally posted 2009-04-01 14:09:45.

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A BATTLE WITHIN A BATTLE.–

An officer of the Second Connecticut regiment, in a letter to his family, says: “The coolest thing I ever heard of happened at the battle of Fair Oaks. Right in the hottest of the battle, two of the Second’s boys got at loggerheads with each other, threw down their muskets, and fell to at fisticuffs–had it out, picked up their arms, and pitched into the rebels again. I have heard of a wheel within a wheel; but a battle within a battle is certainly something new.”

Originally posted 2009-03-31 14:34:41.

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SCENES AT VICKSBURG.–

“As I was riding by a small, religious-looking church, cruciform in shape–all churches do not look sacred–but this, in a grove of magnolia trees, with a small spire surmounted with the emblem of faith, gothic windows, and everything that tends to make it a place of worship, and inspire one with love for Him who holds the wind in the palm of His hand, who careth for the bird and feedeth the young lambs upon the hills,–

“I halted at the gateway, and noticed that the doors were open. After dismounting and climbing a hill, I stood upon a level with the church. Could it be? I could not realize until I walked to the door and looked in. Not a vestige of floor, not a remnant of a pew–altar gone. Even the string-pieces that supported the floor were gone. A few negroes sat in the corners cooking meat, while the smoke arose in reluctant wreaths, as though hesitating at the desecration. A beautiful marble font lay broken upon the ground, while the bowl was used for ordinary ablutions and the washing of dishes.

“I asked how this had been done. ‘Why,’ said they, ‘rebel cavalry used to camp in it, and they burned all the seats and the pulpit; we only burned the floor.’

“I had a superstitious fear about entering it to look in the small side rooms, one of which had given forth sounds of praise, and in the other the sacred vestments of the priest were kept. The organ had long since vanished; the vestments were gone. Desecration and desolation sat here in silence–mournful reminder of a curse too deep for words, that Fate had uttered against the people who conceived this thing. What a fit comment on the rebellion! Churches desecrated, and graveyards defiled.

“In a cemetery there are graves opened by curious, impious hands. One grave has the body of a celebrated duellist who was killed in Arkansas, opposite Memphis, embalmed. He looks like one sleeping. There are skulls that seem to laugh at the chaos which perplexes us, and fresh faces sleeping under glass that look as though they were in eternal sleep.

“Infants, with their white caps, looking like cherubs asleep, through the glass of metallic cases, awake not nor arise at the tread of the stranger.

“The fences were burned by the rebels, and the passing of hurrying feet and the tread of animals have worn off many of the graves until the occupants are exposed.”

Letter of Sept. 1863.

Originally posted 2009-03-30 18:20:20.

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