Sword and Pen: Or, Ventures and Adventures of Willard Glazier in War and Literature ...

Front Cover
P.W. Ziegler, 1889 - United States - 524 pages

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 134 - But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him. But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring ; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Page 396 - House to take into consideration the resolution submitted by him on the 23d ultimo, for the erection of a monument to the memory of the late Major General the Baron de Kalb; which motion was negatived.
Page 143 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod, Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By Fairy hands their knell is rung, By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; Their Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay, And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! ODE, TO A LADY, OH THE DEATH OF COL.
Page 143 - She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung, By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there...
Page 167 - If cold white mortals censure this great deed, Warn them, they judge not of superior beings, Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
Page 134 - O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sod with our bayonets turning — By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
Page 469 - I made objection, and insisted that all should see the goal of our expedition from the canoes. What had long been sought at last appeared suddenly. On pulling and pushing our way through a net-work of rushes, similar to the one encountered on leaving Itasca, the cheering sight of a transparent body of water burst upon our view. It was a beautiful lake — the SOURCE of the FATHER OF WATERS.
Page 426 - The noise outside in the bar-room by-and-by died away into complete silence, but from afar down the caflon came confused sounds as of disorderly cheering. They came nearer, and again the light-hearted noise of human laughter mingled with clinking glasses around the bar. A low knock at the jury door, the lock burst in, and a dozen smiling fellows asked the verdict. The foreman promptly answered, "Not guilty.
Page 360 - I then passed down to the left to the Meadow Bridge on the Chickahominy, which I burned, ran a train of cars into the river, retired to Hanover-town on the Peninsula, crossed just in time to check the advance of a pursuing cavalry force, burned a train of thirty wagons 27 loaded with bacon, captured thirteen prisoners, and encamped for the night five miles from the river.
Page 427 - One after another exchanged the belief that this sort of thing was more sensible than ' nipping 'em on sight.' " When, before sunset, the bar-keeper concluded to sweep some dust out of his poker-room back door, he felt a momentary surprise at finding the missing horse dozing under the shadow of an oak, and the two lost donkeys serenely masticating playing-cards, of which many bushels lay in a dusty pile. He was reminded then that the animals had been there all day.

Bibliographic information