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About admin

I'm a lover of God and His Son Jesus Christ. In addition I love to make yesterday's words come alive through the republishing of good and profitable books of old. The Civil War project is an ongoing labor of love. - Karan

The CIVIL WAR in Song and Story (1860 – 1865)

Blogs come and go…
But this one is staying put!

That’’s the way it goes in the Blog world. This blog is different than most. In the last several years I’’ve taken up a labor of love that i’s designed for you the reader. My recipe is simple enough. I like old books. Books that, for all intents and purposes and for whatever reasons, have lost their original audience yet are sorely in need of being revived for the present and future generations of readers. Perhaps a reader just like you.

It is my hope your life will be touched by each post. Each post equals one story. Hopefully apart from my days of rest there will be a new story each and every day until the project is completed.

This particular project resonates with me strongly. Read the following Preface to the original.

– Karan Bergeron

Preface

In the preparation of this volume, it has been the design of the editor to preserve the most notable anecdotes and incidents of the late war, and such songs, ballads, and other pieces of versification as are worthy of perpetuation. The tragic incidents, humorous episodes, and brilliant and historic adventures of the conflict, all lie buried in the columns of inaccessible newspapers; and it is not strange, therefore, that the editor should almost daily, for years past, have received letters requesting a re-issue of the work. The present edition is published in response to that demand.

New York, 1882 F.M.

Title: The CIVIL WAR in Song and Story (1860 – 1865)

Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore (Editor of “The Rebellion Record,”,”Diary of the American Revolution,”, etc.)
P.F. Collier, Publisher 1889

This work was entered by Act of Congress in the year 1865 by Frank Moore in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.

May I suggest you begin reading from the oldest post to the newest or take advantage of the featured posts listed on the column.

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FORCE OF HABIT.–

A Captain, who had been a railroad conductor before the war, was drilling a squad, and while marching them by flank, turned to speak to a friend for a moment. On looking again towards his squad, he saw they were in the act of “butting up” against a fence. In his hurry to halt them, he cried out, “Down brakes! Down brakes!”

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A PRACTICAL JOKE.–

A gallant volunteer officer was searching the houses of citizens for arms, with a squad of men, and on arriving at the residence of an old gentleman named Hayes, was met in the hall by his daughter,–a beautiful, black-eyes girl of eighteen,–who appeared deeply agitated, and implored the Captain not to search the house. The officer was sternly immovable, resolved to do his duty, and the more bent upon searching from the apparent dismay of the fair girl. “Indeed–indeed,” she exclaimed, “we have only three guns in the house.”

The Captain smiled incredulously. “Fetch them to me,” said he, remembering the fate of poor Ellsworth. The young lady hurried upstairs, and returned with an old, rusty, double-barrelled shot gun that no prudent man would have ventured to load and discharge. “The others–the other two!” demanded the officer. “O sir, my brothers!” sobbed the girl. “I cannot take them from them!”

The Captain pushed her on one side. “Forward, men!” he shouted, falling into the rear himself. As the file of soldiers hastily mounted the stairs, the young lady clung to the skirts of the officer, who was the last to ascend, exclaiming wildly:

“But–but, sir, my brothers–you will not harm my brothers?”

The Captain shook her off somewhat ungallantly, and rushed up after the soldiers, who, by this time, reached the closed door of a chamber. After a pause, the men pushed open the door, and rushed in with bayonets fixed, when two juvenile Zouaves, of the ages of eight and ten years, fully armed and equipped with wooden guns, appeared drawn up in line before them. At the same moment the silvery laugh of the black-eyes beauty was heard on the stairs, echoed by a couple of chambermaids, who were peeping over the balusters from above. The officer beat a hasty retreat, without making a seizure of the two remaining guns.

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