Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 8, 2025
From the Terror of France I had got a peasant's dress, and by rubbing my hands and face with the stain of butternut, cutting again my new-grown beard, and wearing a wig, I was well guarded against discovery. How to get into the city was the question. By the St. Charles River and the Palace Gate, and by the St. Louis Gate, not far from the citadel, were the only ways, and both were difficult.
Behind was a kitchen garden sloping to the south; and behind that a pasture with a brook in it, and butternut trees, and four cows two red ones, a yellow one with sharp horns tipped with tin, and a dear little white one named Daisy. There were six of the Carr children four girls and two boys.
He noticed presently a half-dozen other sharpshooters in the Confederate butternut, prowling among the bushes, and through an opening he saw his own people to the west, but too far away to be reached by anything but artillery. The slow, deep music of the Northern guns came steadily to his ear, but their fire was always turned toward Vicksburg. Dick knew that his position was extremely critical.
"I suppose that water is all right, captain?" inquired Leader Rob, with a true officer's regard for his troops. "Sweet as a butternut, son," rejoined the old man. "Makes the sick strong and the strong stronger, as the medicine advertisements say."
The planter was dressed in a suit of butternut, which had become very much shrunken, from exposure to all kinds of weather. His coat sleeves did not reach far below his elbows, and there was a considerable space between the bottom of his breeches and the top of his shoes. He was as "thin as a rail," and if he stood upright would have been very tall, but he was bent nearly double.
His widowed mother, with her seven young children, her little farm, and two or three slaves, could do no more for him. Next, we see him a tall, awkward, slender stripling of thirteen, still barefoot, clad in homespun butternut of his mother's making, tilling her fields, and going to mill with his bag of corn strapped upon the family pony.
"I ain't goin'," he said. "Yes, you are, too. Why not?" said Nance, inconsequently. "Aw, it ain't no use." "Ain't you been to school?" "Yep, but I ain't goin' to that lady's house. I ain't fit." "You got to go to take me," said Nance, diplomatically. "I don't know where Butternut Lane's at." "You could find it, couldn't you?" Nance didn't think she could.
He was beaming with delight when he returned them to our squad, and said, with a chuckle: "Brisoners, I pring you pack two of dem tam Yankees wat got away yesterday, unt I run de oder raskal into a mill-pont and trowntet him." What was our astonishment, about three weeks later, to see Tom, fat and healthy, and dressed in a full suit of butternut, come stalking into the pen.
Twelve good men and true, attired in butternut trousers stuffed into muddy boots, settled themselves in the jury box, which was a log bench set at right angles to the other benches, a little apart from the table and chair of the judge, and nine of them took out their knives and bits of cedar and began to follow the lead of the judge in making fine pink curls fall upon the floor.
Now we go into line just as we raise the hill, and as my four comes around, I catch a hurried glimpse through a rift in the smoke of a line of butternut and gray clad men a hundred yards or so away. Their guns are at their faces, and I see the smoke and fire spurt from the muzzles. At the same instant our sabers and revolvers are drawn.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking