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Eddy, John Jackson


Age: 18, credited to Alburgh, VT
Unit(s): 11th VT INF
Service: enl 7/25/62, m/i 9/1/62, CPL, Co. K, 11th VT INF, red 11/29/62, pr CPL 8/16/63, pow, Weldon Railroad, 6/23/64, Andersonville, to Millen, 11/11/64, prld 2/22/65, m/o 5/24/65

See Legend for expansion of abbreviations


Birth: 09/14/1845, Alburgh, VT
Death: 10/15/1920

Burial: Alburgh Center Cemetery, Alburgh, VT
Marker/Plot: Not recorded
Gravestone researcher/photographer: Bob Hackett
Findagrave Memorial #: 24407420


Alias?: None noted
Pension?: Yes
Portrait?: Unknown
College?: Not Found
Veterans Home?: Not Found
(If there are state digraphs above, this soldier spent some time in a state or national soldiers' home in that state after the war)

Remarks: None

Webmaster's Note: The 11th Vermont Infantry was also known as the 1st Vermont Heavy Artillery; the names were used interchangably for most of its career


Great Grandfather of John Eddy, Venetia, PA

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Copyright notice



Alburg Center Cemetery, Alburgh, VT

Check the cemetery for location/directions and other veterans who may be buried there.



John Eddy shamed the laggard night, 
So early was his day begun.
He breakfasted by candle light, 
And toiled afield till set of sun.
Then by the glow a lantern shed
His cows were milked, his stock was fed, 
And all his evening chores were done, 
Before he tumbled into bed.

One autumn morning, on his way, 
The Parson stopped and urged him so
To come to church that Thanksgiving day.
That John at last resolved to go, 
But to the Parsons regret, 
He still denied Creations debt, 
 "What thanks" said John, "do farmers owe for working
  Hard for all they get?"

In church that day John Eddy dreamed, 
He saw the sun in splendor rise, 
Yet from a thankless world, it seemed, 
No welcome went to greet the skies;
No chirping insects voice was raised;
The birds in heedless silence gazed;
And there, before his wondering eyes;
A morning came unsung, unpraised.

The rolling thunder shook the land;
 "Ungrateful world!' it seemed to say.
And from above a mighty hand, 
Swept down and bore the sun away.
To late the field and forest vied, 
In pleading song, in vain they cried, 
For one sweet hour of blessed day, 
Which tardily they glorified.

John Eddy, waking, spoke as one, 
"How little man himself has done!
How much for him has Nature wrought!
What lavish gifts of sun and shower, 
Thanksgiving comes, or come it ought, 
To fructify the field and flowers, 
Not once a year, but every hour."

1920--Western Newspaper Union

Source: Morrisville News and Citizen, Nov. 24, 1920
Courtesy of Deanna French