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Updated: June 20, 2025
This was the Battle of Morhange, or of Metz as the Germans name it and it was over by August 22, 1914. Allies. A, Belgians; B, British; C, Lanrezac; D, Langle de Cary; E, Ruffey; F, Castelnau; G, Dubail; H, Pau. Germans.
"Ay," says Yeo, "in Satan's livery, and I've no doubt his works are according, trust him for it." "Don't be frightened, Jack," says Cary, backing up Brimblecombe from behind. "It's your business to tackle him, you know. At him boldly, and he'll run." Whereat all the men laughed; and the Piache, who had intended to produce a very solemn impression, hung fire a little.
"That friend of yours, Cary, is quite a distinguished-looking girl," said my Aunt Dorothea, in a low voice. "Really presentable, for the country, you know." I said Annas came of a high Scots family, and was related to Sir James De Lannoy, of the Isle of Wight. I saw that Annas went up directly in my Aunt Dorothea's thermometer. "De Lannoy!" said she. "A fine old Norman line.
You can't study a thing that changes by day and by night, and is so uncertain you never know what it is going to do. Now, here is Mary Cary, mostly Martha, who would rather get on a train or a boat and go somewhere she don't care where than to do any other thing on earth.
"So do I," answered Cary, bluntly enough, and the four walked back to the house, Lady Grenville taking everything for granted with the most charming good humor, and chatting to her three silent companions till they gained the terrace once more, and found four or five of the gentlemen, with Sir Richard at their head, proceeding to the bowling-green.
He's going to the bad very fast now, but he was the crack puppy of that year's entry; good-looking, long minority, careful guardians, leases falling in, mother one of the best Christians in England, and all that sort of thing. Well, Tom Cary took him in hand, and brought him out in great form before long.
He had a strange look out of his eyes; and I heard him mutter something to himself." "Yes," said another, "I heard him say he was going to kill somebody, 'one or the other's got to die, what does the paper say?" "The old story," said Anderson, looking somewhat relieved, "A woman's at the bottom of it." "And liquor," said Tom Cary, "is at the top of it."
"So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to treat which there I found, Speak will I of the other things I saw there"; which is thus rendered by Mr. Cary, "Which to remember only, my dismay Renews, in bitterness not far from death. Yet to discourse of what there good befell, All else will I relate discovered there"; and by Dr. Parsons,
"She gave me Amanda's basket to bring home yesterday," said Amos; "'tis in the shed." "Yes, she ran off with it yesterday, and ate all the lunch herself," explained Mrs. Cary, "and slapped Amanda. Your sister came running home crying as if her heart would break." "Anne didn't eat the luncheon. 'Twas all in the basket, and I ate it," said Amos. "I don't believe she slapped Amanda, anyway.
Cary and I were both restless as peas on a hot girdle, and could not settle down to talk or to read or to write. In spite of my interest in the subject my soul revolted at the forbidding pile of manuscript. I promised to read the proofs and criticise them with severity, but as for the M.S. no, thanks. Poor Cary needed all his sweet patience to put up with me.
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