Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            Gen. Negley sent out a foraging expedition from Nashville, with orders to the commander to visit every habitation, mill, barn, and out-house, and seize upon everything fit for consumption by man and beast. During the expedition a squad made a break for a free school-house.

            “Don’t disturb anything there!” cried one of the officers. “If there had been a few more such institutions in the South, there would have been no rebellion.”

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            by Paul H. Hayne.

They slept on the fields which their valor had won,
But arose with the first early blush of the sun,
For they knew that a great deed remained to be done,
            When they passed o’er the River!

They rose with the sun, and caught life from his light
Those giants of courage, those Anaks in fight —
And they laughed out aloud in the joy of their might,
            Marching swift for the River!

On! on! like the rushing of storms through the hills
On! on! with a tramp that is firm as their wills —
And the one heart of thousands grows buoyant and thrills
            At the thought of the River!

O, the sheen of their swords! the fierce gleam of their eyes!
It seemed as on earth a new sunlight would rise,
And king-like flash up to the sun in the skies,
            O’er the path to the River.

But their banners, shot-scarred, and all darkened with gore,
On a strong wind of morning streamed wildly before,
Like the wings of death-angels swept fast to the shore,
            The green shore of the River.

As they march — from the hill-side, the hamlet, the stream —
Gaunt throngs, whom the foeman had manacled, teem,
Like men just aroused from some terrible dream,
            To pass o’er the River.

They behold the broad banners, blood-darkened, yet fair,
And a moment dissolves the last spell of despair,
While a peal as of victory swells on the air,
            Rolling out to the River.

And that cry, with a thousand strange echoings spread,
Till the ashes of heroes seemed stirred in their bed,
And the deep voice of passion surged up from the dead
            Ay! press on to the River!

On! on! like the rushing of storms through the hills,
On! on! with a tramp that is firm as their wills,
And the one heart of thousands grows buoyant and thrills
            As they pause by the River.

Then the wan face of Maryland, haggard and worn,
At that sight lost the touch of its aspect forlorn,
And she turned on the foeman, full statured in scorn,
            Pointing stern to the River.

And Potomac flowed calm, scarcely heaving her breast,
With her low-lying billows all bright in the West,
For the hand of the Lord lulled the waters to rest
            Of the fair rolling River.

Passed! passed! the glad thousands march safe through the tide.
(Hark, Despot! and hear the wild knell of your pride,
Ringing weird-like and wild, pealing up from the side
            Of the calm flowing River!)

‘Neath a blow swift and mighty the Tyrant shall fall;
Vain! vain! to his God swells a desolate call,
For his grave has been hollowed, and woven his pall,
            Since they passed o’er the River!

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            It will be remembered that the little Count Mejan once frantically appealed to the Emperor Napoleon to send an armed force to protect the grog-shopkeepers of New Orleans from an “unconstitutional” tax Gen. Butler had levied upon them. The Emperor was so puzzled to know what his consul had to do with the American Constitution, and on what principles he made himself the champion of whiskey-venders in an American city, that he called the Count home to explain.

            It will be seen, from what follows, that Gen. Butler’s tyranny did not stop at taxing grog-shops. It seems that after the expulsion of the rebels and their allies, the Thugs, from New Orleans, the dead walls of that city were suddenly covered with conspicuous bills containing the following sentence :

            “Get your shirts at Moody’s, 207 Canal Street.”

            A planter, a secessionist, came to town some months after Butler had taken the reins in his hands, and marvelled much at the cleanliness and good order he found prevailing; also he was surprised at this notice, which everywhere stared him in the face.

            “Get your shirts at Moody’s? ” said he to an acquaintance he met in the street; “what does this mean? I see it everywhere posted up. What does it mean?

            “O,” was-the reply, “that is another of the outrageous acts of this fellow Butler. This is one of the orders of which you hear so much. Don’t you see? he has ordered us to get our shirts at Moody’s, and we have to do so. It is, of course, suspected that he is a silent partner in the concern, and pockets the profits.”

            The poor planter listened with eyes and mouth open and replied:

            “I don’t need any shirts just now, and it’s a great piece of tyranny; but this Butler enforces his orders so savagely that it is better to give in at once,” and accordingly he went to “Moody’s” and purchased half a dozen shirts, — on compulsion.

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            Gen. Rosecrans indulges occasionally in a witticism. A lady called upon him for the purpose of procuring a pass, which was declined very politely. Tears came to the lady’s eyes as she remarked that her uncle was very ill, and might not recover. “Very sorry, indeed, madam,” replied the General. “My uncle has been indisposed for some time. As soon as Uncle Sam recovers a little, you shall have a pass to go where you please.”

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            A war correspondent of a New Orleans paper wrote thus from Jackson, Tenn.:

            “An officer of my acquaintance, who is inordinately fond of fritters,’ just dropped into a dwelling at Jackson a day or two since, where this delicacy was smoking hot upon the table, and very politely asked to share the meal with the landlady. She graciously complied, and asked him to be seated. ‘Will you take the “twinkley twinkle,” or on the ” dab”?’ My friend was entirely ignorant of the meaning of these terms, but at a venture chose the former. He was soon enlightened. The ancient female dipped her not over clean fingers into a tumbler of molasses standing beside her, and allowing the drippings to fall on the delicacy, presented it to him as ‘twinkley twinkle.’ ‘On the dab,’ was a spoonful of treacle upon the centre of the fritter.”

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            “I have just visited a negro school,” said a letter writer. “I never had such hard work to control my risibles in my life. There sat along the sides of the room, all in one class, little girls of five years, and men of forty — each equally advanced in their studies. Of course their curiosity was excited to see the stranger. So, occasionally they looked up, which called forth from the old man in charge, the admonition, “Confine yersels to yer buks. Sam, keep yer eyes on yer knowledge buks. Miss Susan, stop dat, or I’ll give yer de cowskin ‘cross yer legs,” and other equally gentle corrections. I heard them read; and as they were standing up in rows, without regard to height or age, reading in concert, interspersed with the old man’s scowls over his big brass spectacles, mid his threatenings with the cowskin, I could not resist any involuntary smile.”

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            The Thirty-seventh regiment of Iowa, doing duty in St. Louis, in 1862, was a regiment of exempts — few, if any, of its members being under forty-five years of age, and many of them over eighty. “Take them all together,” says a correspondent, “they are a band of hardy veterans, whom the exigencies of the situation have fired with a zealous patriotism well worthy of imitation by younger men. But the most remarkable member of this regiment is a private of company H, named Curtis King, whose history and description are truly curious. He is over eighty-one years of age, six feet two inches in height, of brawny and stalwart frame, baring his bosom to the cold winds of winter without endangering his health, and moving in his round of duties with the celerity of a youth of eighteen. Owing to his great age, and the fact of his being blind of an eye, he found great difficulty, when the regiment was forming, in getting permission to enlist, two or three companies refusing to take him; but he was at length successful, and since the regiment has been on duty he has proved one of the most efficient men in it. He is, and has been from his youth, a Democrat of the old Jackson school, and even now indulges industrious invective against the Abolitionists. He was born in Culpepper County, Va., and claims to be a lineal descendant of Pocahontas; and this statement is verified by his physiognomy, which betrays the characteristics of an Indian. He has been twice married, (first when only nineteen years of age,) and is the father of twenty-odd children, one of which was, two weeks since, only fifteen months old when it died. He claims to be able to repeat every word, of the Bible from the beginning of Genesis to the end of Revelation, and can neither read nor write—a daughter having read the book to him, his wonderful memory allowing him to retain it after committing it to memory. The daughter commenced her reading to him at five years of age, he being then twenty-six. In 1815 he emigrated to Ohio, resided there some twenty-five years, and then removed to Wapello County, Iowa, where his home now is, and where he enlisted. Mr. King’s family is somewhat celebrated for longevity, his mother having lived to the age of 103, and one grandfather to 105 years.

            The history of this country is familiar to him, and his citations of historical points and the connection with them of great men who flourished during the latter part of the last century, are wonderfully accurate — remembering, as he does, Washington, Jefferson, Randolph, and the Adamses, &e. He has often seen Washington, and remarked as a characteristic of the “Father of his Country,” that he never saw him smile; that he seemed to have little sympathy in the enjoyments of other men. The father of Mr. King was a soldier of the Revolution.

            About twenty of Mr. K.’s grandsons and some four or five great-grandsons are now in the United States service, and the old man indulges a laudable pride in the fact that not one of his family is disloyal. Eleven of his grandsons responded to the first call of the President for volunteers. One of his daughters, who resides in Ohio, weighs 325 pounds. He himself never took a dose of medicine from a doctor, nor did any one of his family while they remained under his control, he being what is called a “root doctor,” and having done the physicking for his own people by the use of herb and root teas ; his “practice,” too, was successful.

            The opinion of this aged veteran upon the war, though he gives it in a somewhat homely and antique figure of speech, is not to be ignored as devoid of good foundation. When asked his ideas as to the result of the struggle, he replied: “Well, I think the longest pole will knock the persimmon: It may take a long time ; but the North has got the most men and the most money, and it is bound to come out first best in the end. And,” he continued, “if the young men will do as I intend to do, the rebellion will be put down, for I am in for the war, or as long as I last.” The cheerful and contented disposition of this old man might well be taken for an example by younger soldiers, to say nothing of his strict observance of discipline, or the efficiency and value of such men to the service.

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            An ancient colored woman appeared at the office of the Freedmen’s Bureau, at Chattanooga, Tenn., and asked if that was the place where they kept the freedmen’s bureaus. The clerk was momentarily nonplused, but instantly recovering his gravity, blandly replied in the affirmative. Dinah, with an air of mystery, and speaking in a confidential whisper, said: “I have came for my bureau; now give me a pretty large one, with a glass top; I have a wash-stand at home, but it is too small to put my fixins’ in.”

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

                        Contraband loquitur.

            De leaves hab blown away,
                        De trees am black an bare,
            De day am cold an damp,
                        De rain am in de air.
            De wailin win’s hab struck
                        De strings ob Nature’s lyre;
            De brooks am swollen deep,
                        De roads am mud an mire.
            De horses yank de team,
                        De wheels am stickin thar;
            De Yankee massa yell
                        De Lord! how he do swar!
            De oafs dat he do take,
                        De nigger disremember ;
            De Dutch, De Deuce, De Debbil,
                        De— all tings dat am ebil –
            DE-CEMBER!

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            The widow of Lieut. Pheff, of Illinois, was enabled to find her husband’s grave, at Pittsburg Landing, by seeing a dog which had accompanied the Lieutenant to the war. The dog approached her with the most intense manifestations of joy, and immediately indicated to her, as well as he was able, his desire that she should follow him. She did so, and he led the way to a distant part of the field, and stopped before a single grave. She caused it to be opened, and there found the body of her dead husband. It appears from the statements of some of the soldiers, that when Lieut. Pheff fell, his dog was by his side, and thus remained, licking his wounds, until he was taken from the field and buried. He then took his station by the grave, and nothing could induce him to abandon it, but for a sufficient length of time each day to satisfy his hunger, until, by some means, he was made aware of the presence of his mistress. Thus he watched for twelve days by the grave of his slain master.