Camp Fires of the Confederacy: A Volume of Humorous Anecdotes, Reminiscences, Deeds of Heroism, Thrilling Narratives, Campaigns, Hand-to-hand Fights, Bold Dashes, Terrible Hardships Endured, Imprisonments, ... : Confederate Poems and Selected SongsCourier-Journal Job Printing Company, 1898 - 560 pages |
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Camp Fires of the Confederacy: A Volume of Humorous Anecdotes, Reminiscences ... Benjamin La Bree No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
advance Alabama arms army artillery asked attack battery battle battle of Fredericksburg Bill brave brigade Burkesville called camp Captain captured Carolina cavalry Chaffin's Bluff charge Colonel column command comrades Confederate corps crossed dark dead death Dickison division duty enemy enemy's Federal feet fell field fight fire Fitzhugh Lee flag force Fort Delaware Fort Fisher front gallant guard guns halted hand head headquarters heard hero hill horse hundred infantry J. E. B. STUART Jackson Johnson's Island killed knew lady Lieutenant look Manassas miles morning moved never night officer ordered passed picket prisoners reached rear regiment replied retreat Richmond ride river road rode sent shell Shenandoah river shot side skirmish soldier soon South Carolina squad Stonewall Stonewall Brigade Stonewall Jackson surrender tell Tennessee told took troops Virginia wounded Yankee yards young
Popular passages
Page 513 - tis weary; Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary; Furl it, fold it, it is best; For there's not a man to wave it, And there's not a sword to save it, And there's not one left to lave it In the blood which heroes gave it; And its foes now scorn and brave it; Furl it, hide it— let it rest!
Page 520 - Except now and then a stray picket Is shot, as he walks on his beat, to and fro, By a rifleman hid in the thicket. 'Tis nothing, — a private or two, now and then, Will not count in the news of the battle ; Not an officer lost, — only one of the men Moaning out, all alone, the death-rattle.
Page 17 - Think of him as ragged, halfstarved, heavy-hearted, enfeebled by want and wounds; having fought to exhaustion, he surrenders his gun, wrings the hands of his comrades in silence, and, lifting his tear-stained and pallid face for the last time to the graves that dot the old Virginia hills, pulls his gray cap over his brow and begins the slow and painful journey.
Page 19 - He finds his house in ruins, his farm devastated, his slaves free, his stock killed, his barns empty, his trade destroyed, his money worthless, his social system (feudal in its magnificence) swept away, his people without law or legal status, his comrades slain, and the burdens of others heavy on his shoulders. Crushed by defeat, his very traditions are gone.
Page 17 - Let me picture to you the foot-sore Confederate soldier, as, buttoning up in his faded gray jacket the parole which was to bear testimony to his children of his fidelity and faith, he turned his face southward from Appomattox, in April, 1865.
Page 550 - To hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a Single Star. Then here's to our Confederacy, strong we are and brave, Like patriots of old, we'll fight our heritage to save. And rather than submit to shame, to die we would prefer, So cheer for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a Single Star.
Page 17 - Dr. Talmage has drawn for you, with a master's hand, the picture of your returning armies. He has told you how, in the pomp and circumstance of war, they came back to you, marching with proud and victorious tread, reading their glory in a nation's eyes. Will you bear with me...
Page 524 - The years creep slowly by, Lorena ; The snow is on the grass again ; The sun's low down the sky, Lorena ; The frost gleams where the flowers have been. But the heart throbs on as warmly now As when the summer days were nigh ; Oh ! the sun can never dip so low Adown affection's cloudless sky.
Page 552 - Many de songs I sung. When I was playing wid my brudder Happy was I; Oh, take me to my kind old mudder! Dere let me live and die.
Page 514 - tis drooping dreary; Furl it, fold it, it is best; For there's not a man to wave it, And there's not a sword to save it, And there's not one left to lave it In the blood which heroes gave it: And its foes now scorn and brave it: Furl it, hide it— let it rest. Take that Banner down! 'tis tattered; Broken is its staff and shattered; And the valiant hosts are scattered Over whom it floated high.