Fables Of Field and Staff is a book of seven short fictional stories inspired by several strange and remarkable incidents in the history of an infantry regiment of volunteers during the time of peace. These tales are considered illustrative of the customs and traditions of the army. Written by American author James Albert Frye, this book contains easy-to-read and interesting stories of the soldiers of the infantry regiment. Contents include: The March of the Forty Thieves A Tale of Two Towers One from the Veteran Woodleigh, Q.M. The Kerwick Cup Officially Reported Special Orders, No. 49
Quarterly accession lists; beginning with Apr. 1893, the bulletin is limited to "subject lists, special bibliographies, and reprints or facsimiles of original documents, prints and manuscripts in the Library," the accessions being recorded in a separate classified list, Jan.-Apr. 1893, a weekly bulletin Apr. 1893-Apr. 1894, as well as a classified list of later accessions in the last number published of the bulletin itself (Jan. 1896)
Teach 15 parables in fun and fresh ways. There is 1 parable per chapter with multiple ideas such as drama, skits, and interactive activities for each age group. Enjoy this library of favorite Bible stories and storytelling techniques developed by award-winning author and professional storyteller Steven James. Each book includes creative storytelling techniques especially suited to help teachers tell God’s story and involve children in the Bible story.
From Headquarters is a collection of short engrossing stories focusing on the Nineteenth Army Corps during the Civil war. These tales were based on the strange and truthful experiences of the author during his volunteer service. Through these accounts, the author attempts to shed some light on the sufferings of a hard-working, unrewarded volunteer soldier. It is a beautifully written book that engages the readers with its unique stories. Contents include: The Pluck of Captain Pender, C.S.N. One Record on the Regimental Rolls Our Horse "Acme" From beyond the Pyramids The Hymn that helped The Seventh Major Concerning the Value of Sleep
The long, low room that we call The Battery seemed most depressingly quiet. Sam was there, to be sure, but his presence hardly counted, for he was sound-and-fast asleep in his own little box, partitioned off in the far corner. I foraged ’round for pipe and plug-cut, lighted up, and wandered over to the bookcase. There was nothing in it—nothing that I felt up to the bother of reading. I went over to the long oaken table and picked up a copy of theService Journal, but it proved to be a back number, so I tossed it down again upon the disorderly pile of periodicals, and then climbed upon the cushions of the wide dormer-window, just as the rattle of wheels upon the stone flagging in the court far below shattered the stillness of the July afternoon. A few words in a familiar voice came indistinctly up to me; the wheels clattered again, but more faintly, as the unseen vehicle was driven out through the archway to the street beyond; and steadily up the long stairs, flight after flight, sounded a quick, firm tread. And then the door swung wide upon its hinges, and Bones, our surgeon—Dr. Sawin, outside the service—broke into the room, with his favorite greeting: “Hello, inside! Never mind the guard!” “The countersign is correct. Advance friend,” said I, from number-one post on the cushions. “Likewise, the guard, being asleep, will not turn out. Come over here, and make less riot.” “Just been to see Ali Baba,” explained Bones, dropping upon a chair near the window. “He’ll be mended now in a week or ten days. Thought I’d run up here to glance through the papers. Sent my gig away because it’s too hot to leave the horse standing.” I slipped off my coat and tossed it to the other end of the window-seat, preparatory to elevating my feet for my greater comfort. Bones also reduced his apparel, and provided himself with smoking materials. Then, with his first few puffs, he said, reflectively, “It’s funny how that ‘Ali Baba’ title has been handed down from captain to captain in ‘L’ company. Why, it must be more than twenty years since the day of the first ‘Ali.’” A side glance at the surgeon confirmed the impression I had received from the peculiar intonation of his voice: his hands were clasped behind his head, his long legs were draped over the arm of his chair, his eyes were half closed, and he was on the point of being talkative. Now I, as the latest comer upon the staff, have to serve in the capacity of waste-basket, and all the older officers feel at liberty to use me at any time when they feel the need of freeing themselves of some mildewed old yarn. So I drew a long breath, gave a grunt by way of signifying that I would suffer uncomplainingly, and settled myself to stare vacantly out through the open casement, under the wide, striped awning, and across the broad expanse of roofs towards the green hills, far beyond the city’s limits.
