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In reviewing the history of this ill-fated expedition, I am convinced that had we been furnished at Nashville with 800 good horses, instead of poor, young mules, we would have been successful, in spite of all other drawbacks; or if General Dodge had succeeded in detaining Forrest one day longer, we would have been successful even with our poor outfit.
The Princess pushed up an easy-chair and went herself to the sideboard. "Give me a little brandy," he said, "or rather a good deal of brandy. I need it." The Princess felt her own hand shake. She brought him a tumbler and sat down by his side. "You had to kill him?" she asked, in a whisper. "Is it that?" Forrest set down his glass empty. "No!" he answered.
Ralph glanced behind him with the instinct to carry his love away to a place of safety. But he saw the face of Meg Kissock, with slow Jock Forrest behind her carrying a lantern. Meg ran to the side of her mistress. "Wha's dune this?" she demanded, turning fiercely to Ralph. "Gin ye " "I know nothing about it. Bring the lantern here quickly," he said, leaving Winsome in the hands of Meg.
"In position at Jackson, and engaged in the fighting around that place from 10th to 16th of July, losing several men killed and wounded. "After the evacuation of Jackson, retreated with Johnston's army to Forrest and Morton. Thence to Enterprise, and from there to Mobile, and remained there till November 21, 1863, when ordered to the Army of Tennessee.
Couldn't Forrest spend a day or two? They would take him to Chillon and up to the Rochers de Naye. There was a view worth seeing! "I can stand on that point up yonder," said Cary, "a mile and a quarter high, and fire a stone down the chimney of the hotel at Territet." And they did take him, for Forrest remained four days. Mr.
It seemed to be saucily tweaking the ear of that insufferably solemn Things-as-They-Are goddess. There was in her eyes the light of battle when Nora finally came to tell her that Miss Forrest was awake. But it changed to another light at sight of the girl sitting up in bed so bewilderedly, turning upon her eyes which seemed to say "And what are you going to do with me now?"
Sometimes she did it yet when the spring gloamings were gathering fast, but no one knew this except Jock Forrest, the ploughman, who never told any more than he could help. Silence deep as that of yesterday wrapped about the farmhouse of Craig Ronald.
He was as a dog that had been terribly scorched, and nothing should again induce him to go near the fire. "Was not that the man from the bank?" said Fanny, coming into the room when the sound of the wheels had died away. "Yes; Mr. Forrest." "Well, dearest?" "We must prepare ourselves for the worst." "You will not sign any more papers, eh, Mark?" "No; I have just now positively refused to do so."
"Send him down the hill," Forrest repeated, as he tickled his champing mount with the slightest of spur-tickles and shot her out along the road, sidling, head-tossing, and attempting to rear. Much he saw that pleased him. Once, he murmured aloud, "A fat land, a fat land." Divers things he saw that did not please him and that won a note in his scribble pad.
Forrest was then a young man, but a most skilful and sagacious traveller. Lightly equipped, and accompanied by only one or two companions, he has on several occasions performed long journeys through the most formidable country with a celerity and success that are indeed surprising.
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