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Updated: May 7, 2025
There was also a camp in Lindell's Grove, at the end of Olive, Street, under command of General D. M. Frost, a Northern man, a graduate of West Point, in open sympathy with the Southern leaders.
Now are the prisoners of that regiment all in place between the two files of it. The regiment with its freight moves on to make place for a battalion of regulars, amid imprecations and cries of "Hurrah for Jeff Davis!" and "Damn the Dutch! Kill the Hessians!" Stephen Brice stood among the people in Lindell's Grove, looking up at the troops on the road, which was on an embankment.
There was also a camp in Lindell's Grove, at the end of Olive, Street, under command of General D. M. Frost, a Northern man, a graduate of West Point, in open sympathy with the Southern leaders.
He took a walk that afternoon, as far out as a place called Lindell's Grove, which afterward became historic. And when he returned to the house, his mother handed him a, little white envelope. "It came while you were out," she said.
He took a walk that afternoon, as far out as a place called Lindell's Grove, which afterward became historic. And when he returned to the house, his mother handed him a little white envelope. "It came while you were out," she said.
At the head of Olive Street, abreast of Lindell's Grove, I found Frank Blair's regiment in the street, with ranks opened, and the Camp Jackson prisoners inside. A crowd of people was gathered around, calling to the prisoners by name, some hurrahing for Jeff Davis, and others encouraging the troops. Men, women, and children, were in the crowd.
Now are the prisoners of that regiment all in place between the two files of it. The regiment with its freight moves on to make place for a battalion of regulars, amid imprecations and cries of "Hurrah for Jeff Davis!" and "Damn the Dutch! Kill the Hessians!" Stephen Brice stood among the people in Lindell's Grove, looking up at the troops on the road, which was on an embankment.
Now are the prisoners of that regiment all in place between the two files of it. The regiment with its freight moves on to make place for a battalion of regulars, amid imprecations and cries of "Hurrah for Jeff Davis!" and "Damn the Dutch! Kill the Hessians!" Stephen Brice stood among the people in Lindell's Grove, looking up at the troops on the road, which was on an embankment.
There was also a camp in Lindell's Grove, at the end of Olive, Street, under command of General D. M. Frost, a Northern man, a graduate of West Point, in open sympathy with the Southern leaders.
He took a walk that afternoon, as far out as a place called Lindell's Grove, which afterward became historic. And when he returned to the house, his mother handed him a, little white envelope. "It came while you were out," she said.
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