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Updated: May 28, 2025
The Ottawas of Blanchard's Fork and Roche de Boeuf number, at the present time, 150. They were originally located in Western Ohio and Southern Michigan, and were removed, in accordance with the terms of the treaty concluded with them in 1831, to a reservation within the present limits of Kansas.
Both Le Boeuf and Lebrun approved of the alteration, and this would seem to indicate that there were already misgivings on the French side in regard to the inferior strength of their effectives. The army was divided into eight sections, that is, seven army corps, and the Imperial Guard.
These, in the interval that elapsed, had been advanced to the junction of the Cocodrie and the Boeuf. After driving them in Dwight returned the next morning to Washington. The advance of the column from Franklin to Opelousas had been disfigured by the twin evils of straggling and marauding.
From Opelousas Bean, with the 4th Wisconsin, a section of Duryea's battery, and a squadron of the 2d Rhode Island cavalry, went a day's march toward the southwest, to the crossing of the Plaquemine Brulé, and discovered that Mouton was retreating beyond the Mermentau. From Washington, Dwight moved out twenty miles along the Bayou Boeuf to Satcham's plantation without finding the enemy in force.
Robert Falconer was watching that table, too.... Perhaps she would not return till late; perhaps he would have only a tiny time with her that evening.... And he had not been able to buy out that man's berth upon the steamer.... Consommé and whitebait, boeuf rôti and haricots vert and crême de cérises succeeded one another in deepening gloom. The whole dinner over, and she had not appeared!
Pierre, daughter of the commandant of Fort Le Boeuf, now Waterford, Pennsylvania, that the French had setup on the Ohio River, was Parisian by birth and training, but American by choice, for she had enjoyed on this lonesome frontier a freedom equal to that of the big-handed, red-faced half-breeds, and she was as wild as an Indian in her sports.
But we never deserted the dear old Boeuf a la Mode, which we lived to see one of the most flourishing and popular places in Paris. In the old days there was a little hotel on the Rue Dannou, midway between the Rue de la Paix and what later along became the Avenue de l'Opera, called the Hotel d'Orient.
Marshals of the Empire, Ministers of the Crown, Dukes and Marquesses, whose ancestors lounged in the Oeil de Boeuf; diplomatists of all countries, eminent foreigners of all nations, deputies who led sections, members of learned and scientific academies, occasionally a stray poet; a sea of sparkling tiaras, brilliant bouquets, glittering stars, and glowing ribbons, many beautiful faces, many famous ones: unquestionably the general air of a firstrate Parisian saloon, on a great occasion, is not easily equalled.
"Take your places, Messieurs et Mesdames take your places!" cried Monsieur Dorinet, who had by this time resumed his wig, singed as it was, and shorn of its fair proportions. "What game shall we play at?" "Pied de Boeuf" "Colin Maillard" and other games were successively proposed and rejected. "We have a game in Alsace called 'My Aunt's Flower Garden'" said Müller. "Does any one know it?"
"Your press was groaning all night, monsieur," said Porthos, "and you prevented my sleeping, corne de boeuf!" "Monsieur " objected Jupenet, timidly. "You have nothing yet to print: therefore you have no occasion to set your press going. What did you print last night?" "Monsieur, a light poem of my own composition." "Light! no, no, monsieur; the press groaned pitifully beneath it.
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