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I was mistaken about Jeff. Davis being in Richmond on Thursday last. He was then on his way to Macon. U. S. GRANT, Lieutenant-General. Forrest having already made his appearance in Middle Tennessee, and Hood evidently edging off in that direction, satisfied me that the general movement against our roads had begun.
Then his troubled eyes sought the charred remains of the splendid pines once more. "Why the post." Then he pointed amongst the charred skeletons. "Get a peek right in ther'. See, Jeff. Them walls; them fallen logs. Burnt. Burnt right through to the heart of 'em. That's all that's left of the home that sheltered me for the first sixteen years of my life. Say, I'm sick sick to death."
When the flames began crawling up the windward side of the tree and the heat became unbearable, Jeff said: "Jess, which would you rather take chances on, Grizzly or fire?" "Dad, I think I'll chance the bear," replied Jess, covering his face with his arm. "All right. When I say go, jump and run as though you were scooting through hell with a keg of powder under your arm."
In revolutions the men who win are those who are in earnest. Jeff and Stonewall and the other Devil-worshippers are in earnest, but it was not written in the book of fate that the slaveholders' rebellion should be vanquished by a pro-slavery general. History is never so illogical.
"I won't answer that, Jeffrey. But I feel bound to say you are ungenerous. You've an old grudge against Weedon Moore. You all have, all you boys who were brought up with him. So you break up the meeting." "Now, see here, Amabel," said Jeff, "we haven't a grudge against him. Anyhow, leave me out. Take a fellow like Alston Choate. If he's got a grudge against Moore, doesn't it mean something?"
He did not see at once how very pale she looked, nor did he notice how her lips trembled. "You will not send me away from you, mother. Oh, I will be good. I will never be naughty or troublesome any more if you will come to England with me. Mother, I promise. I cannot go without you; oh no, I cannot!" Jeff was sobbing loudly now. The silence oppressed him.
In fact, I am sure he was awkward or he would have caught up with her when she tried to run away, and she with one shoe off and one shoe on like 'Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John!" "Let me help you out, Mrs. Buck." It was Jeff Bucknor, leaning over the little blue car.
To offer tobacco to anyone was absolutely a borderman's guarantee of friendliness toward that person. Jeff expectorated half a dozen times, each time coming a little nearer the stone he was aiming at, some five yards distant. Possibly this was the borderman's way of oiling up his conversational machinery. At all events, he commenced to talk. "Yer brother's goin' to preach out here, ain't he?
He has nice eyes and the most correct spectacles, and he is polite to his mother at breakfast, and his name is Jeff, and he will undoubtedly be worth five or six hundred thousand dollars, some day, and his opinions on George Moore and commercial paper are equally sound and unoriginal Oh, I ought not to speak of him, and I certainly ought not to be spiteful.
For an instant he imagined her deriding him and revenging herself. "It's the only one I can give you. She's never tried to make you do what was right, and you'll never be tempted to hurt her." "You're pretty rough on me, Cynthy," Jeff protested, almost plaintively. He asked, more in character: "Ain't you afraid of making me do right, now?" "I'm not making you.
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