Sparks from the Camp Fire: Or, Tales of the Old Veterans. Thrilling Stories of Heroic Deeds ... as Re-told Today Around the Modern Camp Fire
Joseph W. Morton
Keystone Publishing Company, 1890 - United States - 566 pages
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
advance arms artillery attack badge battery battle body boys brave bridge brigade called camp Captain carried cavalry charge close Colonel column command comrades confederate corps covered cross dark dead death Department direction division effort Encampment enemy escape eyes face feet fell field fight fire five followed force formed forward four front gave give Grand Army ground guard guns hand head heart held hill horse hour hundred killed knew light living looked Michigan miles morning moved never night o'clock officers once opened organization passed position Post prisoners reached rear rebel received regiment Republic rest returned river road seemed sent Sheridan shot side soldiers soon stand thought thousand took town troops turned Union veterans victory whole woods wounded
Page 475 - The past rises before me like a dream. Again we are in the great struggle for national life. We hear the sounds of preparation — the music of boisterous drums — the silver voices of heroic bugles. We see thousands of assemblages, and hear the appeals of orators. We see the pale cheeks of women, and the flushed faces of men ; and in those assemblages we see all the dead whose dust we have covered with flowers.
Page 459 - Should earth against my soul engage, And hellish darts be hurled, Then I can smile at Satan's rage, And face a frowning world. 3. ' Let cares, like a wild deluge, come, And storms of sorrow fall ; May I but safely reach my home, My God, my heaven, my all ; — 4.
Page 459 - When I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I'll bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
Page 476 - We go with them one and all. We are by their side on all the gory fields, in all the hospitals of pain, on all the weary marches. We stand guard with them in the wild storm and under the quiet stars. We are with them in ravines running with blood, in the furrows of old fields. We are with them between contending hosts, unable to move, wild with thirst, the life ebbing slowly away among the withered leaves.
Page 462 - Round and mighty-based it towered up into the infinite — And I knew no mortal mason could have built a shaft so bright; For it shone like solid sunshine; and a winding stair of light Wound around it and around it till it wound clear out of sight! "And, behold, as I approached it — with a rapt and dazzled stare, — Thinking that I saw old comrades just ascending the great Stair, — Suddenly the solemn challenge broke of, 'Halt! and who goes there?' ' I'ma friend,' I said,
Page 548 - LAERTES' head. And these few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel ; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.
Page 453 - ... all night marched the Nation's dead, With never a banner above them spread, Nor a badge, nor a motto brandished; No mark — save the bare uncovered head Of the silent bronze Reviewer; With never an arch save the vaulted sky; With never a flower save those that lie On the distant graves — for love could buy No gift that was purer or truer. So all night long swept the strange array; So all night long, till the morning gray, I...
Page 453 - O'erlooked the review that morning, That never bowed from its firm-set seat When the living column passed its feet, Yet now rode steadily up the street To the phantom bugle's warning. Till it reached the Capitol square, and wheeled, And there in the moonlight stood revealed A well-known form that in State and field Had led our patriot sires...
Page 475 - ... the last time in quiet, woody places with the maidens they adore. We hear the whisperings and the sweet vows of eternal love as they lingeringly part forever. Others are bending over cradles kissing babes that are asleep.
Page 462 - Ballantyne! First of all to fall on Monday, after we had formed the line: 'Welcome, my old Sergeant, welcome! Welcome by that countersign! ' And he pointed to the scar there, under this old cloak of mine! "As he grasped my hand, I shuddered, thinking only of the grave; But he smiled and pointed upward with a bright and bloodless glaive : ' That's the way, sir, to headquarters.