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Waynesboro Village Record: February 20, 1863 Go To Page : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

A Heroine
(Column 3)

Summary: A story on a woman named Mary Owens who joined the army with her husband. Under the assumed name of John Evans, Owens passed herself off as a man and enlisted in Montour county, Pennsylvania. During her eighteen month tenure, Owens took part in three battles and was wounded twice before her husband was killed.

Origin of Article: Altona Register

Full Text of Article:

A Correspondent of the Atlanta Register, writing from Broadtop City, Huntingdon county, says he had the pleasure of meeting at a place called Dudley, a woman named Mary Owens, who had just returned from the army, in full uniform. This remarkable woman accompanied her husband to the army, and fought by his side until he fell. She was in the service eighteen months, and took part in three battles, and was wounded twice; first in the face above the right eye, and then in her arm, which required her to be taken to the hospital, where she confessed the deception. She had enlisted in Danville, Montour county, Pennsylvania, under the name of John Evans, and gives as her reason for this romantic undertaking, the fact that her father was uncompromising in his hostility to her marriage with Mr. Owens, threatening violence in case she disobeyed his commands; whereupon having been secretly married, she donned the United States uniform, enlisted in the same company with her husband, endured all the hardships of the camp, the dangers of the battlefield, saw her husband fall dead by her side, and is now wounded and a widow. Mrs. Owens looks young, is rather pretty, and is the heroine of the neighborhood. She is of Welsh parentage.

On The Choice Of A Wife
(Column 4)

Summary: A homily on the importance of choosing a good wife.

Full Text of Article:

Go my son, said the Eastern sage to Talmore, go forth to the world, be wise in the pursuit of knowledge--be wise in the accumulation of riches--be wise in the choice of friends; yet little will avail thee, if thou choosest not wisely the wife of thy bosom.

A wife! what a sacred name--what a responsible office? She must be the unspotted sanctuary to which wearied man may flee from the crimes or the world, and feel that no sin dare enter there. A wife? She must be the guardian angel of his footsteps, on earth, and guide them to Heaven; so firm in virtue that should he for a moment waver, she can yield him support, and replace him upon his firm foundation: so happy in conscious innocence, that when from the perplexities of the world he turns to his home, he may never find a frown where he sought a smile. Such, my son, thou seekest in a wife--and reflect well ere thou choosest.

Open not thy bosom to the trifler; repose not thy head on the breast that nurseth envy and folly and vanity. Hope not for obedience where the passions are untamed; and expect not honor from her who honoreth not the God who made her.

Though thy place be next to the throne of princes and the countenance of loyalty, beam upon thee--though thy riches be as the pearls of Omar, and thy name honored from the East to the West, little will avail thee if darkness and disappointment, and strife be in thine own habitation. There must be passed thine hours in solitude and sickness--and there must thou die. Reflect then, my son, ere thou choosest, and look well to her ways whom thou wouldst love; for though thou be wise in other things--little will it avail thee if thou choosest not wisely the wife of thy bosom.

Returned
(Column 1)

Summary: After a furlough of several weeks in Waynesboro, Capt. W. W. Walker returned to his regiment yesterday.
(Names in announcement: Capt. W. W. Walker)

[No Title]
(Column 1)

Summary: Last Friday, Lieut. Ford, of the Provost Battalion, died at McConnelsburg from injuries he suffered several weeks earlier while pursuing a deserter named John Forney.
(Names in announcement: Lieut. Ford, John Forney)

[No Title]
(Column 1)

Summary: It is reported that the controversy involving the Anderson Troops has been rectified. One regiment has been released from confinement and has returned to duty. An agreement was reached with the soldiers, granting them the right to select their own officers. Additionally, they have been given new assignments: body guards for General Rosecrans.

Letter From The 158th
(Column 2)

Summary: A letter from a soldier in the 158th Regiment detailing his experiences in the first weeks following his arrival in Virginia. Included in his account is a description of and anecdote about a black man hired to cook for the officers.

Full Text of Article:

Camp [illeg] Newbern
January [?]th, 1863.

[illeg] [illeg]--In [illeg] letter I informed you that on our arrival at Suffolk, Va., December 17th we were marched about 9 o'clock, P. M., 14 miles from town, into a dense thicket of dwarfed jack-oaks, young pines, vines, thorn bushes, &c. The following day, we policed the ground, cleared about 5 acres, burned the brush, uprooted the stumps and smoothed over the ground. Expecting to remain here, the men, during leisure hours betook themselves to building cabins, carrying suitable timber about 1 1/2 miles, dressing it, and thus performing no small amount of labor. Scarcely had they rendered themselves comfortable, when marching orders were received, tents struck, and the line of march taken up, for North Carolina. On arriving here, we were encamped in the neighborhood of a cypress swamp, in a thicket like the one that greeted us at Suffolk. Presuming this time that we would not be again moved for some time, the men underwent the same labors as in their late camp. Not a week elapsed before marching orders again reached us, when we flitted to a more healthy location on the banks of the Neuse and encamped in a clearing, dense with stumps of green pine; and while I write the ring of five hundred axes, intermingled with the curses not loud but deep, of the men, breaks the morning stillness. Our Regiment has performed more and severer labor than any other of the late draft, and we are wearying of it.

My servant Hanabal Napoleon Jackson and his fate.

Charles Jackson, alias Hanabal Napoleon Jackson, was born, and doubtless, bred, in Orange county, New York. His early history is wrapped up in the archives of the Harpies; for he is entirely oblivious of parents or relatives, and thinks, like Tobsy, that he never was born, but growed. He stoutly avers that he was keeper and groom of the celebrated thorough-bred, Tom Crib, prior to the rebellion; and his knowledge of the use of ginger-root, and such other medical herbs, as the learned Farriers brings into requisition on certain peculiar occasions inclines me to believe this part of his autobiography. Hanabal was in "the war on the Peninsula." "When morning come, in dem days, and dem d--m hissing acorns come whissin' roun' dis nigger cut off his train, and down he went behind de sand hills; till some ball would dash into de sand and cover dis chile; when out he creeps, and gives de double-shuffle, till de balls come, too thick agin; den he dodges down agin. Dis nigger don't like dem balls nohow. Ah, Lord, Lord, dem were hot times. I tell you de niggers had no tar on dare heels den; dey handled dem as if they were treaden on a galvanie mushine; one time dey run dis way, till de d--d Rebels fotched up fore dem, den dey turns round and runs tuder way, and den de Rebels was too, and so dare woolly heads were popin up and down all over de plain, every day. Oh! Lord, what a flusterfication dare was den, Kunels yelling, Captins shouting, hosses jumping, and niggers blowin' scared to def, and de rat--at, bomb, bomb, hiss, hiss, I golly dis nigger tout he'd quit soldierin', if he ever got alive out of dat scrape. In this strain the Dark continues for hours, rolling his chalky eyes, and his quid, grinning like an ape, and some times maneuvering in illustration, thus making many an hour pass by lightly and jollily. His strong military name, I gave him, on account of his knowledge of tactics. He goes through the manual like a regular. He performs the part of orderly, well; every beat or call is familiar to him; his chief peculiarity is hatred of "conklabands!" if he sees one approach, he cries out: "dont cum near me, you d--d nigger;" reason, the contrabands work cheap, are polite and respectful, and more idling. As cook, Hanabal does not excel: but he has profound respect unto his stomache; he is ever fearful that Captain or Lieut. will eat too much, is sure to have a meal ready, just a few moments before the hour for drill, etc, is particularly careful to retain a large portion for himself; and has a thousand excuses for burning or otherwise spoiling a dish. A few days ago a catastrophe occurred that dissolved Hanabal's connection with us. He was standing over the store busily cooking and chattering, when Lieut. M. happening to pass close by him, beheld one of those "varmints," that usually haunt a soldier's dream, leisurely napping on the young man's shirt collar. Consternation filled the tent. Hanabal was marched to the woods, to undergo an examination. It was highly amusing to hear the many apologies and excuses he had to make against undergoing the scrutiny of his eben form. After many threats and a little rough handling he slowly shed his shirt, when horror of horrors! Hanabal was alive, the aptera charging over him in battalions, or building cities, or settling down to undisturbed rural life! Alas poor Hanabal! I fear he will be doomed to habitate with the "d--d Conklabands!

How Now? Why we are cooking ourselves. Now, wouldn't you wish to see your very humble servant hanging, breathlessly, over--a pot! or broiling a steak, or frying oysters! or my second Lieut. stirring the meal into the water, boiling mush! him who had rejoiced for years over the viands so deliciously gotten up, by that Princess of cateras Mrs. B?--It's an ill wind that blows no one any good; we imagine that we eat 60 pr. ct. less dirt; we are sure that our meals are concocted in better style, etc., besides, we'll hire another cook as soon as we can obtain one, minus the aptors. Nothing new. We get your paper, the only one we see. Won't some of our friends send us the 'Press occasionally.' In my next of sundry matters relating to soldiering, Adio. W. T. B.

Trailer: W. T. B.

The Tomb
(Column 4)

Summary: On Feb. 5th, Granvil E. Funk, son of Henry M. and Emily Funk, died near Leitersburg. He was 20 months old.
(Names in announcement: Granvil E. Funk, Henry M. Funk, Emily Funk)

The Tomb
(Column 4)

Summary: On Feb. 5th, Ann Garver, 83, died at the residence of F. Harbaugh near Hagerstown.
(Names in announcement: Ann Garver, F. Harbaugh)

The Tomb
(Column 4)

Summary: On Feb. 5th and 6th, John and Susan Philips lost their two daughters, Myrtle and Minnie. The two girls were victims of scarlet fever.
(Names in announcement: John Philips, Susan Philips, Myrtle Philips, Minnie Philips)