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Civil War Harper's Weekly, August 17, 1861

This original 1861 newspaper has a cover illustration showing an injured Civil War soldier. The issue also has a nice illustration of the Battle of Bull Run. The paper includes news of the day, and illustrations of Boston's Faneuil Hall.

(Scroll Down to See Full Page, or Thumbnails below will take you to the specific page of interest)

 

Medicine

Civil War Medicine

Necessity of War

Slave Question

Fugitive Slaves

Mansfield McDowell

General Mansfield and McDowell

Monroe Battle

Battle of Monroe Missouri

Bull Run Zouave

Zouave from the Battle of Bull Run

Rebel Atrocities

Rebel Atrocities at Bull Run

Napoleon

Napoleon's Yacht

Faneuil Hall

Boston's Faneuil Hall

Slaves

Slave Stampede

wounded Bull run

Bull Run Battlefield

Civil War Ballad

Cartoon

Contractor Cartoon

 

 

AUGUST 17, 1861.]

HARPER'S WEEKLY.

527

their upper stories projecting, with, here and there, plastered fronts, quaintly arabesqued. An ascent, short, but steep and tortuous, conducted at once to the old Abbey Church, nobly situated in a vast quadrangle, round which were the genteel and gloomy dwellings of the Areopagites of the Hill. More genteel and less gloomy than the rest—lights at the windows and flowers on the balcony—stood forth, flanked by a garden wall at either side, the mansion of Mrs. Colonel Poyntz.

As I entered the drawing-room I heard the voice of the hostess; it was a voice clear, decided, metallic, bell-like, uttering these words; "Taken Abbots' House ? I will tell you."

CHAPTER VI.

MRS. POYNTZ was seated on the sofa ; at her right sat fat Mrs. Bruce, who was a Scotch lord's grand-daughter : at her left thin Miss Brabazon, who was an Irish baronet's niece. Around her —a few seated, many standing—had grouped all the guests, save two old gentlemen, who remained aloof with Colonel Poyntz near the whist table, waiting for the fourth old gentleman, who was to make up the rubber, but who was at that moment spell-bound in the magic circle, which curiosity, that strongest of social demons, had attracted round the hostess.

" Taken Abbots' House ? I will tell you. Ah, Dr. Fenwick ! charmed to see you. You know Abbots' House is let at last? Well, Miss Brabazon, dear, you ask who has taken it. I will tell you—a particular friend of mine."

"Indeed ! Dear me !" said Miss Brabazon, looking confused. "I hope I did not say any thing to—"

" Wound my feelings. Not in the least. You said your uncle, Sir Phelim, had a coach-maker named Ashleigh, that Ashleigh was an uncommon name, though Ashley was a common one; you intimated an appalling suspicion that the Mrs. Ashleigh who had come to the Hill was the coach-maker's widow. I relieve your mind—she is not ; she is the widow of Gilbert Ashleigh, of Kirby Hall."

" Gilbert Ashleigh," said one of the guests, a bachelor, whose parents had reared him for the church, but who, like poor Goldsmith, did not think himself good enough for it—a mistake of over-modesty, for he matured into a very harmless creature. " Gilbert Ashleigh. I was at Oxford with him—a gentleman commoner of Christ Church. Good-looking man—very: sapped—"

" Sapped! what's that ? Oh, studied. That he did all his life. He married young—Anne Chaloner ; she and I were girls together : married the same year. They settled at Kirby Hall —nice place, but dull. Poyntz and I spent a Christmas there. Ashleigh when he talked was charming, but he talked very little. Anne, when she talked, was commonplace, and she talked very much. Naturally, poor thing, she was so happy. Poyntz and I did not spend another Christmas there. Friendship is long, but life is short. Gilbert Ashleigh's life was short indeed; he died in the fifth year of his marriage, leaving only one child, a girl. Since then, though I never spent another Christmas at Kirby Hall, I have frequently spent a day there, doing my best to cheer up Anne. She was no longer talkative, poor dear. Wrapt up in her child, who has now grown into a beautiful girl of eighteen —such eyes, her father's—the real dark blue—rare ; sweet creature, but delicate ; not, I hope, consumptive, but delicate ; quiet—wants life. My girl Jane adores her. Jane has life enough for two."

" Is Miss Ashleigh the heiress to Kirby Hall ?" asked Mrs. Bruce, who had an unmarried son.

"No. Kirby Hall passed to Ashleigh Sumner, the male heir, a cousin. But Mrs. Ashleigh hired the place during his minority. He comes of age this year, that's why she leaves. Lilian Ashleigh will have, however, a very good fortune—is what we genteel paupers call an heiress. Is there any thing more you want to know ?"

Said thin Miss Brabazon, who took advantage of her thinness to wedge herself into every one's affairs, " A most interesting account. But what brings Mrs. Ashleigh here ?"

Answered Mrs. Colonel Poyntz, with the military frankness by which she kept her company in good-humor, as well as awe :

"Why do any of us come here? Can any one tell me ?"

There was a blank silence, which the hostess herself was the first to break.

"None of us present can say why we came here. I can tell you why Mrs. Ashleigh came. Our neighbor Mr. Vigors is a distant connection of the late Mr. Ashleigh, one of the executors to his will, and the guardian to the heir-at-law. About ten days ago Mr. Vigors called on me, for the first time since I felt it my duty to express my opinion about the strange vagaries of our poor dear friend Dr. Lloyd. And when he had taken his chair, just where you now sit, Dr. Fenwick, he said, in a sepulchral voice, stretching out two fingers, so, as if I were one of the what-do-you-call-'ems who go to sleep when he bids them, ' Marm, you know Mrs. Ashleigh? You correspond with her.' Yes, Mr. Vigors; is there any crime in that ? You look as if there were.' ' No crime, marm,' said the man, quite seriously. 'Mrs. Ashleigh is a lady of amiable temper, and you are a woman of masculine understanding.' "

Here there was a general titter. Mrs. Colonel Poyntz hushed it with a look of severe surprise. "What is there to laugh at ? All women would be men if they could. If my understanding is masculine so much the better for me. I thanked Mr. Vigors for his very handsome compliment,

and he then went on to say, ' that though Mrs. Ashleigh would now have to leave Kirby Hall in a very few weeks, she seemed quite unable to make up her mind where to go ; that it had occurred to him that, as Miss Ashleigh was now of an age to see a little of the world, she ought not to remain buried in the country ; while, being of quiet mind, she recoiled from the dissipation of London. Between the seclusion of the one and the turmoil of the other, the society of L- was a happy medium. He should be glad of my opinion. He had put off asking for it, because he owned his belief that I had behaved unkindly to his lamented friend, Dr. Lloyd ; but he now found himself in rather an awkward position. His ward, young Ashleigh Sumner, expected to enter on possession of Kirby Hall (which Mr. Vigors, as his guardian, had let to Mrs. Ashleigh) on the precise day agreed upon ; while his respect for the memory of another lamented friend, the late Mr. Ashleigh, made him reluctant to press hard upon that friend's widow and child. It was a thousand pities Mrs. Ashleigh could not decide at once on her plans ; she had had ample time for preparation. A word from me, at this moment, would be an effective kindness. Abbots' House was vacant, with a garden so extensive that the ladies would not miss the country. Another party was after it, but—'

Say no more,' I cried ; ' no party but my dear old friend, Anne Ashleigh, shall have Abbots' House. So that question is settled.' I dismissed Mr. Vigors, sent for my carriage—that is, for Mr. Barker's yellow fly and his best horses—and drove that very day to Kirby Hall, which, though not in this county, is only twenty-five miles distant. I slept there that night. By nine o'clock the next morning I had secured Mrs. Ashleigh's consent, on the promise to save her all trouble, sent for the landlord, settled the rent, lease, agreement ; engaged Forbes's vans to remove the furniture from Kirby Hall, told Forbes to begin with the beds. When her own bed came, which was last night, Anne Ashleigh came too. I have seen her this morning. She likes the place, so does Lilian. I asked them to meet you all here to-night ; but Mrs. Ashleigh was tired. The last of the furniture was to arrive to-day; and though dear Mrs. Ashleigh is an undecided character, she is not inactive. But it is not only the planning where to put tables and chairs that would have tired her to-day ; she has had Mr. Vigors on her hands all the afternoon, and he has been—here's her little note—what are the words ? no doubt, most overpowering and oppressive'—no, ' most kind and attentive' — different words, but, as applied to Mr. Vigors, they mean the same thing.

" And now next Monday—we must leave them in peace till then-you will all call on the Ashleighs. The Hill knows what is due to itself ; it can not delegate to Mr. Vigors, a respectable man indeed, but who does not belong to its set, its own proper course of action toward those who would shelter themselves on its bosom. The Hill can not be kind and attentive, overpowering or oppressive, by proxy. To those new born into its family circle it can not be an indifferent godmother ; it has toward them all the feelings of a mother, or of a step-mother, as the case may be. Where it says, 'This can be no child of mine,' it is a step-mother indeed ; but, in all those whom I have presented to its arms, it has hitherto, I am proud to say, recognized desirable acquaintances, and to them the Hill has been a Mother. And now, my dear Mr. Sloman, go to your rubber ; Poyntz is impatient, though he don't show it. Miss Brabazon, love, oblige us at the piano ; something gay, but not very noisy —Mr. Leopold Smythe will turn the leaves for you. Mrs. Bruce, your own favorite set at vingt-un, with four new recruits. Dr. Fenwick, you are like me, don't play cards, and don't care for music : sit here, and talk or not, as you please, while I knit."

The other guests thus disposed of, some at the card-tables, some round the piano, I placed myself at Mrs. Poyntz's side, on a seat niched in the recess of a window, which an evening unusually warm for the month of May permitted to be left open. I was next to one who had known Lilian as a child, one from whom I had learned by what sweet name to call the image which my thoughts had already shrined. How much that I still longed to know she could tell me ! But in what form of question could I lead to the subject, yet not betray my absorbing interest in it ? Longing to speak, I felt as if stricken dumb ; stealing an unquiet glance toward the face beside me, and deeply impressed with that truth which the Hill had long ago reverently acknowledged, that Mrs. Colonel Poyntz was a very superior woman—a very powerful creature.

And there she sat knitting — rapidly, firmly; a woman somewhat on the other side of forty, complexion a bronzed paleness, hair a bronzed brown, in strong ringlets, cropped short behind —handsome hair for a man ; lips that, when closed, showed inflexible decision, when speaking, became supple and flexile with an easy humor and a vigilant finesse ; eyes of a red hazel, quick but steady ; observant, piercing, dauntless eyes; altogether a fine countenance—would have been a very fine countenance in a man ; profile sharp, straight, clear-cut, with an expression, when in repose, like that of a sphinx ; a frame robust, not corpulent, of middle height, but with an air and carriage that made her appear tall; peculiarly white firm hands, indicative of vigorous health, not a vein visible on the surface.

There she sat knitting, knitting, and I by her side, gazing now on herself, now on her work, with a vague idea that the threads in the skein of my own web of love or of life were passing quick through those noiseless fingers. And, indeed, in every web of romance, the fondest, one of the Parcae is sure to be some matter-of-fact she, social Destiny, as little akin to romance herself—as was this worldly Queen of the Hill.

BALLADS OF THE WAR.

THE SLAUGHTERED INNOCENT.

" May 18.—The long-looked-for letter comes at last, and oh, how much joy it gives me! . . All well at home, and want to see it, but not worse than we want to see them.

. . . We both cried over the letter.

" Sunday, May 19.—A good old-fashioned sermon from our pastor, Chadwick. Oh! how I love to listen to him!

. . . Do, Lord, deliver me from sin and temptation.

"July 4. —The memorable day of all days for the American people; we could hear the sound of the enemy's guns, I suppose in celebration of the day. We did not celebrate it ; I do not know why; I think we ought to have done so. . . . Would like to know how the home folks spent it.

" July 21.-Got up a little after sunrise, broiled my meat, and ate it with old crackers full of bugs—expecting orders to march every moment."

[From the Diary of a Young Southerner, killed at Bull Run, July 21.]

Simple, sanguine youth ! Loving, lapp'd in love!

Proud, quick, ardent, brave,

All mean things above !

Son, brother, friend, Faithful to the last,

Eager all to serve—Young enthusiast !

Not too much refined,

Not too tamely smooth ;

Easy to offend,

Easier to soothe. Proud of all the land, Glorying in its fame;

Living in its light, Fearing not its shame!

Hating party strife, Knowing not its springs;

Caring but for truth,

For the peace it brings.

Demagogueish fiend, Honest eyes to blind !

Forging subtle words,

Poison to his mind! Causing him to hate

Union, Country, Flag;

Shouting, " Save your homes—It is shame to lag!"

Playing on his fears,

Quickening his pride;

Crying, " Glory waits—What you will, beside !"

Poor deluded boy!

Far away from home,

Wasting with new cares, Still compelled to roam.

Cheered by buoyant hope—Dreams of honored state;

Saddened, too, by thoughts, Shadows of his fate.

On the war-clouds came! Crazing thunders rolled!

He was every where!—There he lies, full cold!

Who has murdered him? Soon his friends will know; God, who hates a lie,

Will not leave it so.

Other victims wait;

Other faces white

Stare into the sky,

Stare with dreadful might!

Oh the day of wrath !—But, though Justice come,

Naught may wake the dead, Sleeping far from home.

THE STAMPEDE FROM HAMPTON.

ON page 524 we illustrate the great stampede of negroes from Hampton, which took place when our troops evacuated that town. A correspondent of the Herald thus described the scene :

The departure of the main body of our troops in the vicinity of Hampton was the cause of some of the most extraordinary scenes that it has been my fortune to witness. It became very evident to all that the absence of a reserve force, to prevent a flank and rear movement on the part of the enemy, would make it necessary, or at least a wise measure of precaution, to cause an evacuation of the camp in the village of Hampton, at an early hour, or run the risk of having two or three regiments cut to pieces in detail by the enemy, without a chance of escaping that result, if the enemy appeared in the rear and front, as they might do, and, by destroying the bridge at Hampton, entirely cut off the retreat of the garrison of the village, as well as from succor from the fort. Consequently, at an early hour last night, orders were given to Colonel Weber, of the Twentieth New York regiment, and to the Naval Brigade, to immediately send over their baggage, camp equipage, etc., to the fort, preparatory to a complete evacuation of the place, that night or early this morning. An additional order was also given to the effect that all negroes and Union men, with such effects as they chose to carry with them, be removed from the village last night if possible. When this order was conveyed to those interested a scene ensued which baffles all description. The fear of an immediate attack from the rebels, and the bringing into servitude again of all the negroes, lent wings to the contrabands, who thickly cluster in the village of Hampton, and the hasty preparations for instant flight, and the exodus that followed, were the most laughable and at the same time pitiable sight I ever witnessed. All awakened from their sleep, they seized such articles as they valued the most, and set out in the midnight hours, over a long and lonely road leading to the fort, for that haven in which they looked for comfort and safety that would not be again disturbed. First came the men, some of then bearing in their arms the little picaninnies, who cried and sobbed from fear; others toting household furniture upon their heads, hurrying along lest their masters should finally snatch them from their newly-found freedom,

and again send them to the fields under the overseer's whip. Then came women, also bearing their clothes, furniture, bedding, and, in short, every thing that made up their household effects. Children of all ages, sizes, color, and appearance clung to the skirts of the venerable old negro women, who rushed hastily along the road, dragging the children after them, and sharply rebuking their cries and expressions of fear.

So during the entire night, amidst the greatest excitement, and in many cases agony of fear, the road was thronged with transportation wagons, hurrying along loaded with baggage, camp equipage, camp utensils, furniture, and other articles, which jostled the crowd of contrabands hastening along the same route. Artillery, baggage wagons, soldiers, negroes, all manner of vehicles, sped along pell-mell during the entire night, and all made confusion worse confounded.

The day broke, and still the road was traversed by contrabands, each one bearing a load on his or her head or wheeling a creaking barrow, or perhaps draining a cart loaded down with furniture. The Naval Brigade held their positions at the redoubt, under arms all night, and ready, with two or three pieces of artillery, which had been left, to sweep the avenues of approach with shot and shell, if the enemy should make an attack. At about ten o'clock I rode over to Hampton, to witness what was expected to be the destruction by fire of the entire village and bridge leading to it. At that time I met, I was about to say, hundreds of slaves, men, women, and children, the women invariably turbaned with a flaming bandana handkerchief, and the children barefooted and without covering to the head. Not a single article of furniture found in this latitude but might have been seen on the heads of these unfortunate creatures, and what was too heavy to carry was placed in the canoes, flatboats, and wherries that dotted the bay, pulled by swarthy sons of Africa. Never was such an exodus seen before in this country.

Arriving at Hampton, after passing squads of soldiers at the bridges and along the roads, we found the village almost deserted, a few soldiers, negroes, some wagons, and one or two officers' horses were all that could be seen in its desolate streets. Turning up the main road, toward Yorktown, where the old county court-house stands, we found the scene of the conflagration, which we first discovered from the fort. A small wooden structure of great age, lately occupied as an Odd Fellows' Hall, was in ruins, and the conflagration had so far destroyed the next building, occupied by the jailer, as to induce them to give up all hopes of saving it, and to turn their attention to the jail, which was then burning. All three of the buildings were totally destroyed, in spite of the efforts of a detachment of Zouaves from the Tenth regiment, who worked the two fire-engines sent up from the fort. At the time I left Hampton the enemy, who were near our earth-works, had sent a flag of truce in to General Butler, by a Captain Rand of the rebel force. I have not learned the object of his mission. Up to the time I close my letter General Butler had not determined to receive the flag. I shall give you the result tomorrow.

ADVERTISEMENTS.

Wanted 1000 Agents, to sell Miniature Pins of Gen. Scott, Butler, and all the Heroes. Also Great Bargains in Job Lots of Jewelry. Enclose from $1 to $10 for samples. W. A. HAYWARD, 208 Broadway, N. Y.

A 25 Cent Sewing Machine!

And 5 other curious inventions. Agents wanted every where. Descriptive Circulars sent free. Address SHAW & CLARK, Biddeford, Maine.

EVERY MAN HIS OWN PRINTER.

CHICAGO, Ill., July 5, 1861.—A. S. ADAMS & CO.: I am much pleased with the Cottage Press, and although I never worked a day at printing in my life, find myself able to do any kind of small jobs of printing with it, some samples of which I send herewith. The simplicity of the machine and its easy working render it easily managed by any boy. We calculate that in the course of the year we can save by this press $100 at least in our printing bill.

B. W. PHILLIPS.

Prices — Printing Office, complete, No. 2, prints 5x8 inches, $25 ; No. 3, 7x10, $40 ; No. 4, 12x18, $60. Send for a Circular.

ADAMS PRESS COMPANY,

No. 117 Fulton St., New York.

Matrimony made Easy."—A new work, showing how either sex may be suitably married, irrespective of age or appearance, which can not fail—free for 25 cents. Address T. William & Co., Publishers, Box 2300, Philad.

$1 only for a Patent Copying Press warranted to copy letters perfectly. By mail $1.27. Agents wanted by J. H. ATWATER, Providence, R. I.

TO ASSIST DIGESTION

and give Tone to the Stomach, use LEA & PERRIN'S WORCESTERSHIRE SAUCE. JOHN DUNCAN & SONS, Union Square and Fourteenth Street, Sole Agents.

To the Book Trade.—FRANKLIN SQUARE, NEW YORK, Julie 18th, 1861: In consequence of the present deranged state of business, our future sales will be for Cash—deducting therefor five per cent. on ordinary six months' accounts.

A Trade Circular, containing a List of New Books, is now ready, and may be had on application.

HARPER & BROTHERS.

"A STRANGE STORY,"
By Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.
HARPER'S WEEKLY.
Single Copies Six Cents. 

TERMS.

One Copy for One Year . . . .$2.50

Two Copies for One Year .   .   .   . 4.00 Harper's Weekly and Harper's Magazine, one year, $4.00. HARPER'S WEEKLY will be sent gratuitously for one month—as a specimen—to any one who applies for it. Specimen Numbers of the MAGAZINE will also be sent gratuitously.

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,

FRANKLIN SQUARE, NEW YORK.

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