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Updated: July 17, 2025
On this side of the by-path the dividing-line between the meadow and the woods extended due north about a quarter of a mile to a point beyond which the stream and the low ground reached nearly to the main road. "I want to see the enemy," said Butters. "I can't station my men till I can see what they are to fire at."
"Keepin' company with him, p'raps?" "No, oh, no! will you tell me at once, please, and plainly, what has happened?" Vesta spoke quietly; in her normal condition she was always quieter when moved; but the colour seemed to fall from her cheeks as her eyes followed those of the old man to something that lay long and still in the cart behind him. "Fact is," said Mr. Butters, "I've got him here.
"This town is about fifteen miles from Mill Springs; and I consayt that there will be a bigger battle than we have had in these parts, or anywhere in the State, before long. General Thomas is sent down here to clean out Old Zolly, and I reckon he'll do it," replied Butters. "I wish I could have a hand in it." "So you kin if you are so minded. You don't seem to have nothin' to do here now.
The teacher was Ithamar Butters, called Dr. Butters from the circumstance that he had studied medicine for a time with Dr. Aaron Bard, a physician in the village. Of Dr. Butters as a teacher I remember little. He became a disbeliever in the Bible an agnostic of those days.
And then, a sudden wave of emotion surging unbidden within him, he caught the child sharply to him. He turned away quickly to hide this unwonted demonstration, but Aunt Clara saw. "Very pretty! But sentiment butters no bread." "Sometimes," he returned gravely, "it makes dry bread palatable." "Humph!" remarked Aunt Clara.
It was then more clearly than ever before that I understood the patriotic significance of Mr. Washington's work. It is this conception of it and of him that I have ever since carried with me. It is on this that his claim to our gratitude rests. To teach the Negro to read, whether English, or Greek, or Hebrew, butters no parsnips.
The sharpshooters then dismounted, and secured their horses in the woods. They were again formed in line. The platoon of cavalrymen were at rest, and Life was ordered to dismount them, while Deck marched with Butters and his command in single file into the woods on the left of the road.
They are mean stock, and though I am sorry to do so, I must order you to shoot the horses; for your compassion for the poor beasts has brought the action to a standstill, and we are doing nothing." "I don't know but you are right, Lieutenant Lyon; at any rate, I obey your orders," replied Butters, mollified by the compliment to his men and himself, to say nothing of the praise of Kentucky horses.
He has no more disarmed the Irish than he has resigned a shilling of his own public emoluments. An Irish peasant fills the barrel of his gun full of tow dipped in oil, butters the lock, buries it in a bog, and allows the Orange bloodhound to ransack his cottage at pleasure.
W. Brodie H.J. King A. Bailey Sir Drummond Dunbar H.E. Becher F. Mosenthal H.A. Rogers C. Butters Walter D. Davies H. Bettelheim F.R. Lingham A.L. Lawley W.B. Head V.M. Clement W. Goddard J.J. Lace C.A. Tremeer R.G. Fricker J.M. Buckland J. Donaldson F.H. Hamilton P. du Bois H.B. Marshall S.B. Joel A.R. Goldring J.A. Roger Thomas Mein J.S. Curtis
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