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Updated: May 2, 2025
"Would yer like ter know how de fight is goin', Mars'?" "What matters it?" mumbled the old man. "Them things is triflin', after all, now, now." "Is dar anyting yer'd like me ter git, Mars' Joe?" said Bone, through his sobs. The thought of the dying man was darkening fast; he began to mutter about Dode, and George at Harper's Ferry, "Give Coly a warm mash to-night, Bone."
He could feel his nervousness mounting up his legs until it began to gallop through his body.... He felt frightfully dry, and when he tried to speak, he could not do anything but cough. The train had started now from Coly station. He could see the white smoke rising from the engine's funnel almost in a straight line, so little wind was there in the valley.... "Oh, Lord!" he said to himself....
Bags or purses are mentioned to have been carved on the manor-house of Coly Weston, in Northamptonshire, augmented by this Lord Cromwell; and there were also similar ornaments carved in wood, removed about a century ago from Wingfield Manor.
They stood at the end of the platform, watching the train driving quickly up the valley until it stopped at Coly. Then they heard the whistle of the engine, and saw the smoke curling up, and again the train moved on, and then they could see it no more. "We'll walk home," Mary whispered to Henry. "She'd much better go back by herself!"
She went into her chamber, and began to comb her hair back; it fell in rings down her pale cheeks, her lips were crimson, her brown eyes shone soft, expectant; she leaned her head down, smiling, thanking God for her beauty, with all her heart. Was that a step? hurrying back. Only Coly stamping in the stable. It was eight o'clock.
Mis' Browst sighed an assent, drinking her coffee with a resigned gulp, with the firm conviction that the civil war had been designed for her especial trial and enlargement in Christian grace. So Bone was called in from the cow-yard. His eyes were quite fiery, for the poor stupid fellow had been crying over the "warm mash" he was giving to Coly.
The very names of the Devonshire rivers were like homely music to him, and he would say the names over to himself for the pleasure of their sound: Taw and Tamar and Torridge, the Teign and the Dart and the Exe, and the rivers about Boveyhayne, the Sid and the Otter, the Coly, the Axe and the Yarty.... "I'm not de-nationalised," he insisted. "I love Ireland and England.
Ef yer go ter de Yankee meetin', Coly kern't tote yer." "Well, well, Uncle Bone, that's enough," said old Scofield testily, looking through the stall-window at the horse, with a face anxious enough to show that the dangers of foundering for Coly and for the Union were of about equal importance in his mind.
They could see the train coming into Coly station, and a sense of despair seized Henry when he thought that it would soon come into Whitcombe station and then go back again to the junction, carrying Ninian and him with it.
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