Bio: William H. Davis :Pittsfield, Merrimack Co, New Hampshire **************************************************************************** USGENWEB NOTICE: In keeping with our policy of providing free genealogical information on the Internet, data may be freely used for personal research and by non-commercial entities as long as this message remains on all copied material. These electronic pages may not be reproduced in any format or presentation by other organizations or persons. Persons or organizations desiring to use this material for profit or any form of presentation, must obtain the written consent of the file submitter, or his legal representative and then contact the listed USGENWEB archivist with proof of this consent. The submitter has given permission to the USGenWeb Archives to store the file permanently for free access. http://www.usgwarchives.net. Submitted by: Rick Giirtman rickman@worldpath.net Date: March 15, 2001 **************************************************************************** From the Book 'History of Pittsfield, N. H. in the Rebellion' by H. L. Robinson, published 1893 W. H. DAVIS. In a small house standing at the corner of Depot and Bank streets in Pittsfield, William H. Davis was born. He was a son of William and Shuah (Evans) Davis, and lived with his parents, attending school and working in his father's shop as a boot-maker, until he enlisted in Company H, Fourth New Hampshire volunteers. He was mustered into service, September 18, 1861, and served with his regiment until November 3, 1862, when he was transferred to the First U. S. artillery. Here he served the remainder of his term. It would be needless to say that he was a good soldier, for none but the very best could be transferred from volunteer infantry to the regular artillery. He was killed in a railroad accident in 1866. One day while in Florida, I think, Davis went to a public house to get dinner. The wash basin was on a shelf in the porch, beside it was a bucket of water with a gourd dipper, over the shelf hung a dirty rag for a towel. Davis called out, "Here, landlord, can't you give us a clean towel?" "I reckon so," said that individual, as he arose from the bench on which he was reclining, and shuffled across the house floor. He got the desired article, and as he handed it to Davis, remarked, "Yuse 'un is the most mighty particular man I ever seed. I reckon that ar towel has hung there three months, and more than five hundred men have wiped on it, and you are the fust one to find fault with it."