Governor John Brough


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Civil War Harper's Weekly, December 26, 1863

Harper's Weekly was the primary source of news and information for people who lived during the Civil War. Families would eagerly await each issue, hoping to learn of the progress in the war, and perhaps read something of a loved ones unit. Today, these newspapers are a priceless treasure, and an incredible resource for adding color to the Civil War.

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



The Chesapeake



Abraham Lincoln's Amnesty Proclamation

Capture Lookout Mountain

Capture of Lookout Mountain

Fighting Among the Clouds

Fighting Among the Clouds


John Brough

Jeff Davis Cartoon

Lookout Mountain

Battle of Lookout Mountain

Christmas Morning

Christmas Morning







[DECEMBER 26, 1863.




"Yes, Sir."

"Get ready and take this five to Mrs. Mary Kirby; tell her Mrs. Blueit has more work for her and John—"

"Yes, Sir."

"Stop at M'Vicars, and see if he has any nice turkeys; pick out a hen turkey, a nice fat yearling, and take it to her; and tell M'Vicar—d'ye hear?—to send three to the house."

"Yes, Sir."

"And other fowls and things, and all the rest to my wareroom by ten, and bring me the bill."

"Ye—es, Sir."

"Mr. Blueit, I think you are crazy! What upon earth do you want of several hundred fowls at the warehouse? I shall send for your friends. You are losing your wits! You are wasting your property! Oh dear! oh dear!"

And poor little Mrs. Blueit wrung her jeweled fingers, and actually cried behind her two inches of cambric.

"Not a bit of it. John, you stop at Dunsheimer's, and buy Katy Kirby a nice big doll. Here's another five, and tell her Mrs. Blueit sent it."

"Yes, Sir." And it's my belief that if Dr. Agnew could have seen John's optics dilate he would forever eschew belladonna, and employ unexpected benevolence, the reaction being so much more comfortable. So John departed, imparting his belief to Mary, whom he met going up with the clean towels, that "Something was wrong o' the old man; but 's longs my money's safe, and I guess it be, it's none of my business if he does throw fives in the street."

The moment John was out of the room Mrs. Blueit began to pace the floor and bewail the mental decay and overthrow of her poor husband.

Mr. Blueit finished his breakfast, put on his over-coat, and came back with hat and gloves in hand, not liking to leave Jessie feeling so badly, when it suddenly occurred to him that he had not told her a word of his wonderful Dream, and how it had wrought upon him.

So Blueit, who was not a bad husband, sat down and drew his pretty, weeping wife on his knee, told her of the marvelous vision, and especially did he dwell upon the glimpses of his past and early life of his forsaken childhood, his dead mother, the poor people in the streets the Christmas-eve, and, not least, the pretty girl in Millinette Place, down to his sudden awakening under the capsized chair before the cold and ashy grate.

"And now, Jessie," said Blueit, "dreams come to a man for good sometimes. I'm going to serve my country now to some purpose. I've given before this for pride and vain glory. I'm going to give now for—for—for what folks go to church for, you know." And Blueit bolted off.

When Blueit's people went home that night they carried each a fat fowl for dinner on Christmas, and the boys had books or money, and even the little children at home, too little to work, had candy and toys, cheap to be sure, but sufficient. And, best of all, the workmen were each held worthy of their hire—good, sufficient hire—thereafter.

"And to think," said little Mrs. Blueit, "that Joe should remember, after so many years, that it was Christmas-eve that he knocked down Mr. Leroy Fayneant for kissing my hand, and dream of it at this late day. I must have been pretty then."

And the little figure, in its dainty blue wrapper and pretty slippers, refreshed itself by a look in the pier glass. "How oddly dreams do affect some men! Women ain't so silly." And Mrs. Blueit studied her splendid solitaire on the left forefinger. "But now—wasn't that odd about kissing my hand?"


THE night was dark; the wild, wet wind was sighing

In fitful gusts, and scattering drops of rain,

From the low clouds that southward fast were flying,

Pattered against the roof; and I, in pain

And weakness, lay and listened, while each vein

Thrilled with a boding sense of coming ill,

And something I could feel, but ne'er explain—

A strange, mysterious awe—o'ercame my will,

And hushed my throbbing heart, and made my blood run chill.


The very air seemed full of unseen evil;

And I could fancy, 'mid the gathering gloom,

Each deeper shade was but some lurking devil

On dark designs intent. Some awful doom

Seemed just impending. Were the demons come

Up from their torments to prepare new woes

For guilty man? "How soon, alas! shall some,

Unthinking now, ere e'en this night shall close,

New anguish feel, or seek their long, their last repose!"


I slept at last, worn out by anxious fears,

But sudden seemed to waken, with a scream

Of piercing horror ringing in my ears,

And calling me, too, did its accent seem.

Then, with the quick transition of a dream,

A late-deserted battle-field I trod

In search of him. The moon's pale, pitying gleam

Cast sickly radiance on the blood-stained sod

Where thousands, unprepared, had gone to meet their God.


At last, 'neath a low willow's drooping shade,

I found him—my dear, only brother—lying

In a dark pool his own life-blood had made.

Wildly I called him: "Brother, are you dying?"

No answer, but the low, convulsive sighing

And gasp for breath. O God! And then I tried

To rouse him; and at last he, too, seemed trying.

And then his strange, wild eyes were opened wide,

And his hand harder pressed upon his bleeding side.


But ere he died he knew me—grasped my hand,

And whispered, "Brother!"—faintly, sweetly smiled,

And looked toward Heaven. And in that better land

I hope to meet him, and am reconciled

To sorrow here. Say not my vision wild

Was but a feverish dream; for soon there came

News of the "Glorious Victory"—so 'twas styled;

But I saw only my dead brother's name.

And one sad joy alone remains to me—

He knew that I was with him in his agony.


WE give on this page a Portrait, from a photograph by Mr. O. H. Willard, of the Hon. JOHN BROUGH, Governor-elect of Ohio. Mr. Brough was born at Marietta, Ohio, in 1811. He was brought up in a printing-office; he became at length editor of a local paper in Marietta, entered into politics, and for several years held the office of Auditor of the State. He afterward became editor of the Cincinnati Enquirer, long before that journal had its present notoriety. He had in Ohio the reputation of being a great stump speaker; in 1840 he and Corwin were considered the first political speakers in the State. For the past fifteen years he has been connected neither with politics nor the press, having been engaged in various railroad enterprises in the West. He was for a while President of the Cincinnati and Indianapolis Railroad; and he is at this time President of the Cleveland, Bellefont, and Indianapolis Railroad. He is a popular man, and has peculiar talent for finance. He re-entered the political world again last year after an absence of fifteen years, and although originally, like Dickinson and others, a member of the old Democratic party, gave a hearty support to the Administration. It was his great speech at Marietta for the war and the Union that probably secured his nomination as Governor of the State, upon the duties of which office he will enter the first of January next. His majority over Vallandigham was the largest Ohio over gave, being about one hundred thousand.


WE publish on pages 820, 821, and 829 several sketches representing THE STORMING AND CAPTURE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN by General Hooker, on November 24, 1863. Our correspondent writes:

"There has not during the war been a more gallant fight than the assault by General Hooker's column upon the rebel works on Lookout Mountain. The men, climbing the steep mountain-side under a severe fire from the many rifle-pits, were never checked. Whitaker's brigade, sweeping over the ridge and taking in rear the works by the White House, is the subject of the sketch on page 820, the skirmishers of Geary's division being in the fore-ground. The line of battle, as it swept over the ridge, was composed of the divisions of Generals Cruft, Geary, and Osterhaus, the other divisions of Hooker's column being disposed on the flanks and as supports. The picture on page 829 illustrates further the same affair.

"The centre picture on page 821 represents the brigades of General Whitaker and Colonel Ireland, of Cruft's and Geary divisions—Whitaker's brigade stretching to the rocks that from the crest of the mountain swept over the ridge on which the rebel rifle-pits were located. At this place the fight was short and severe.

"The other drawings on the same page show the rebel work on the crest of the mountain, from which the rebels did not remove the guns (two light pieces) until after night-fall; and the sketch of the crest of the mountain will explain why we did not get up there in time to capture them. On the morning of the 25th Captain Wilson, Sergeants Wagers, Davis, and Woods, and Privates

Hill and Bradley, of the Eighth Kentucky regiment, Colonel Barnes, volunteered to place the colors of the regiment on the rocks forming the top of the mountain. Up they went, gaining the top by a route such that a single rebel might have disposed of the party. As the sun rose the next morning its first ray brightened the old flag on the very top of Lookout Mountain, as represented in one of the small drawings."



TAKE a robin's leg,

Mind, the drumstick merely;

Put it in a tub,

Filled with water nearly


Set it out of doors,

In a place that's shady;

Let it stand a week

(Three days for a lady).


Put a spoonful in

To a five-quart kettle,

It should be of tin,

Or perhaps bell-metal.


Fill the kettle up,

Put it on a boiling;

Skim the liquor well

To prevent its oiling.


Let the liquor boil

Half-an-hour or longer

(If 'tis for a man

You may make it stronger).


Should you now desire

That the soup be flavory,

Stir it once around

With a stalk of savory.


When the soup is done,

Set it by to jell it;

Then three times a day

Let the patient smell it.

If he chance to die,

Say 'twas Nature did it;

But should he get well,

Give the Soup the credit.


FIRST COSTER. "I say, Bill, wot's the meanin' o' Congress?"

SECOND COSTER. "A shee heel. Female of Conger."

POLITICAL ECONOMY.—Splitting your Vote.

Where does Neptune stable his horses?—Why, wherever the Sea-Mews may be, of course.

SOCIAL SCIENCE.—Mixing Whisky-toddy.

An Irishman who was at the celebrated battle of Bull Run was somewhat startled when the head of his companion on the left was taken off by a cannon-ball. In a few minutes, however, a spent ball broke off the finger of his comrade on the other side. The latter threw down his gun and howled with pain, when the Irishman rushed upon him, exclaiming, "You owld woman, stop cryin'! You are making more noise about it than the man who just lost his head."

"John, can you tell me the difference between attraction of gravitation and attraction of cohesion?" "Yes, Sir," said John. "Attraction of gravitation pulls a drunken man to the ground, and the attraction of cohesion prevents his getting up again."

SEEING DOUBLE.—An old miser, who was notoriously parsimonious, being ill, was obliged reluctantly to consult a doctor. "What shall I do with my head?" said the old man; "it's so dizzy I seem to see double." The doctor wrote a prescription and retired; the recipe ran thus; "When you see double, you will-find relief if you count your money."

A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN.—An old writer says that to make an entirely beautiful woman it would be necessary to take the head from Greece, the bust from Austria, the feet from Hindostan, the shoulders from Italy, the walk from Spain, and the complexion from England. At that rate she would be a Mosaic, and the man who married her might well be said to have "taken up a collection."

Mrs. Macaulay having published her "Loose Thoughts," Mr. Sheridan was asked whether he did not think it a strange title for a lady to choose. "By no means," replied he; "the sooner a woman gets rid of such thoughts the better."

" Be content with what you have," as the rat said to the trap when he left his tail in it.

A lady who wears a pretty little slipper is often loved by the foot.

The busiest coopers in these times are those that hoop the ladies.

Why is an unwelcome visitor like a shady tree?—Because we are glad when he leaves.

A player, performing the Ghost in Hamlet very badly, was hissed; after bearing it a good while, he put the audience in good humor, by stepping forward and saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, I am extremely sorry that my humble endeavors to please are unsuccessful; but if you are not satisfied, I must give up the ghost."

A person in public company accusing the Irish nation with being the most unpolished in the world, was mildly answered by an Irish gentleman, "that it ought to be otherwise, for the Irish met with hard rubs enough to polish any nation upon earth."

Parker, bishop of Oxford, being asked by an acquaintance, what was the best body of divinity, replied, "That which can help a man to keep a coach and six horses."

A recruiting sergeant lately accosted an honest hind in Northumberland, saying, "Come, my lad, you'll fight for your Queen, won't you?" "Fight for t' Queen?" answered Andrew; "why, hez she fall'n out wi' ony body?"

When Jemima went to school she was asked why the noun "bachelor" was singular. "Because," she replied, "it is so very singular they don't get married."

Upon the failure of a publican, at the sign of the "Robin Hood," an opposite neighbor obtained a license, and called his house "The Little John;" underneath which he wrote:

Now "Robin Hood" is dead and gone—

Come in and drink with "Little John."

A Chinese boy, who was learning English, coming across the passage in his Testament, "We have piped unto you, and ye have not danced," rendered it thus: "We have toot, toot to you—what's the matter you no jump?"

Patrick Macfinigan, with a wheel-barrow, ran a race with a locomotive; as the latter went out of sight Mac observed, "Aff wid ye, ye roaring blackguard, or I'll be after running into yees!"

A SCOTCH DINNER.—The noon-day meal.

The musician who can make his hearers forget time may be excused for not keeping it.

When you are running from a mad bull, to be slow isn't to be sure."

Why are authors who treat of physiognomy like soldiers?—Because they write about face

What's the use of a seat of war to a standing army?

An urchin, suffering from the application of the birch, said, "Forty rods are said to be a furlong. I know better: let any body get such a licking as I've had, and he'll find out that one rod makes an archer!"

"My son, haven't I told you three times to go and shut that gate?" said a father to a four-year-old. "Yes, and haven't I told you three times that I wouldn't do it. You must be stupid."

"Ah, William, home from the wars? Where is the brother who went with you?" "Ah me! we left our mother together. One of us was killed. How can I bear to tell her which one it was!"

An Irishman was employed to trim some fruit trees. tie went in the morning, and, on returning at noon, was asked if he had completed his work. "No," was the reply, "but I have cut them all down, and am going to trim them in the afternoon."

"All bitters have a heating tendency or effect," said a doctor to a lady. "You will except a bitter cold morning, won't you, doctor?" inquired the lady.

The English are a heavy people, and most like a stone of all others. The French are a lively people, and more like a feather.

There are many pickpockets about town just now. So he that would keep his watch, "this let him do—pocket his watch, and watch his pocket, too."

"You are ill, my friend." "Yes, my eye is inflamed, and very painful. Do you know of any remedy?" "Do as I did last week with a tooth—have it out."

Mr. Brown lately went into the country for the first time in his life, and records it as a singular coincidence in nature that every pond he saw—"and there were many of 'em"—had land round it. Mr. Brown is evidently a "natural" philosopher.

Here is what we consider a manifest improvement on the old story of the "Friend in Need:"

A friend in need's a friend indeed,

And this I've found most true;

But mine is such a needy friend

He sticks to me like glue.

Some time since, two young ladies near Newmarket fell into company with a gipsy, who, for a trifling sum, proposed showing them their future husbands' faces in a pail of water. The water being procured, they were desired to look. They did so; when, discovering nothing strange, they exclaimed, "We see only our own faces." "Well," replied the gipsy, "those will be your husbands' faces when you're married."

TAIL-BEARER.—Naturalists have remarked that the squirrel is continually chatting to his fellow-squirrels in the woods. This, we have every reason to suppose, arises from that animal's love of gossip, as he is notoriously one of the greatest tail-bearers among his tribe.

A French bishop, in a sermon, recently administered a philippic to crinoline wearers: "Let women beware (said he) while putting on their profuse and expansive attire, how narrow are the gates of Paradise."

A widow, occupying a large house in a fashionable quarter of London, sent for a wealthy solicitor to make her will, by which she disposed of between fifty and sixty thousand pounds. He proposed soon after, was accepted, and found himself the happy husband of a penniless adventuress.

"What are you doing?" said a father to his son, who was tinkering an old watch. "Improving my time," was the rejoinder.

Governor John Brough




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