'Help! For God's sake!' he shrilled impatiently, his hands flying in
the air. The Printer seemed to be gasping for breath.
'Go and stick your head out of the window and get through,' he
shouted hotly to the man.
He turned to his writing - a thing dearer to him than a new bone to
a hungry dog.
'Then you may come and tell me what you want,' he added in a
milder tone.
Those were days when men said what they meant and their
meaning had more fight in it than was really polite or necessary.
Fight was in the air and before I knew it there was a wild,
devastating spirit in my own bosom, insomuch that I made haste to
join a local regiment. It grew apace but not until I saw the first
troops on their way to the war was I fully determined to go and
give battle with my regiment.
The town was afire with patriotism. Sumter had fallen; Lincoln
had issued his first call. The sound of the fife and drum rang in the
streets. Men gave up work to talk and listen or go into the sterner
business of war. Then one night in April, a regiment came out of
New England, on its way to the front.
Pages:
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365