. Redeeming the republic : the third period of the war of the rebellion, in the year 1864 . hite flag above him. Beforethe war they were friends; during the conflict they had been the hail from the commander of the Ossipee: Hullo, Johnston, old fellow! how are you ? This is the UnitedStates steamer Ossipee. Ill send a boat alongside for you. Dont youknow me ? Captain Stevens meets him at the gangway with cheery words. Imglad to see you. Heres some ice-water; I know you are dry. Ivesomething better down in the cabin for you. In the cabin they drinka glass of wine. Steward, attend t
. Redeeming the republic : the third period of the war of the rebellion, in the year 1864 . hite flag above him. Beforethe war they were friends; during the conflict they had been the hail from the commander of the Ossipee: Hullo, Johnston, old fellow! how are you ? This is the UnitedStates steamer Ossipee. Ill send a boat alongside for you. Dont youknow me ? Captain Stevens meets him at the gangway with cheery words. Imglad to see you. Heres some ice-water; I know you are dry. Ivesomething better down in the cabin for you. In the cabin they drinka glass of wine. Steward, attend to Captain Johnstons wishes. (1T)Such the kindness and courtesy to an old friend in the hour of his humil-iation. On the Hartford the brave old admiral was standing beside the row ofdead, twenty-five in number, with the tears rolling down his cheeks ashe beheld their mangled forms awaiting befitting burial. Three hundredand thirty-five had been killed, drowned, or wounded on the Union ships;ten killed and sixteen wounded on the Confederate. H a H n HH o v: H ~ W f/j 75 H W ffi â H a =5. MOBILE BAY. 397 Up went the white ! Ah, thenThe hurrahs that, once and again,Rang from three thousand men,All flushed and savage with fight! Our dead lay cold and stark,But our dying, down in the dark,Answered as best they might,Lifting their poor lost arms,And cheering for God and right. Ended the mighty noiseâThunder of forts and ships;Down we went to the , our dear, dying boys 1How we pressed their poor, brave lips,(Ah, so pallid and cold !)And held their hands to the last!(Those that had hands to hold.) Still thee, O woman heart!(So strong an hour ago.)If the idle tears must start,Tis not in vain they flow. They died, our children dear,On the drear berth-deck they died;Do not think of them here ;Even now their footsteps nearThe immortal, tender sphereâ(Land of love and cheer,Home of the Crucified !) And the glorious deed survives;Our threescore, quiet and thus; for a myriad
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