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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Be quiet; you don't know what you are talking about." "Why, Carrie Wade said him an' Dixie Hart had 'loped away, an' " "Didn't I tell you to hush?" Mrs. Henley commanded, in a guarded tone. "You go set down and be quiet for once in your life. You've said enough about this thing."
Suddenly his glance fell on his valise still resting on the step where he had left it, and, rising, he clutched it as he might the hand of a friend. The next instant he was striding over the grass to the gate. To shun the village, the lights of which winked sardonically in the distance, he crossed the road, climbed the fence and was in the meadow which lay between his land and Dixie Hart's.
"I think it can be done," Dixie declared, her brow furrowed. "You see, since sixty must be two-thirds of some number, I'm picking different numbers and dividing by three and multiplying by two. The last trial I made was one hundred, and I got sixty-six and two-thirds for the answer. You see, that ain't so powerful far off." "I see, I see," Henley cried, eagerly.
Somerset, Ky., July 22, 1862. GEORGE D. PRENTICE, Louisville, Ky. Good morning, George D. I am quietly watching the complete destruction of all of Uncle Sam’s property in this little burg. I regret exceedingly that this is the last that comes under my supervision on this route. I expect in a short time to pay you a visit, and wish to know if you will be at home. All well in Dixie.
Last night I heard the 'Ode for the Daughters of Dixie. I had a bad time listening to that." "Do you presume to criticise it? Do we criticise your Grand Army reunions, and your 'Marching through Georgia, and your 'John Brown's Body, and your Arlington Museum? Can we not be allowed to celebrate our heroes and our glories and sing our songs?" She had helped me already!
Perhaps you had better go on to the station. I will follow you on Dixie. We can talk after we reach there." The carriage, closely followed by Madge on her pony, reached the little station at least ten minutes before the time for the Curtis's train. Madge could not leave Dixie to walk to the front of the station, so Mrs.
The eyes he fixed on Dixie, who was covertly watching him, fairly danced as he raised the paper and folded it carefully. "Now, you two have got the proposition down in fair legal shape, and nothing stands between you and a deal.
Her mistress called to her coaxingly as she ran toward the enclosure. But the pony was bent on a frolic. She heard Madge, saw her approaching, and, eager for a game, the pony kicked her heels together and trotted off across the field at a lively pace. Madge was in despair. Every moment was precious. Why should Dixie choose this time of all others to refuse to come when she called to her?
While that mock-drill was going on, and listening Unionists outside were laughing to think how those Rifles were going to be fooled next day, the guns of the company were moving in those wagons toward Dixie toward mocking-bird-haunted Bowling Green, where the underfed, unclothed, unarmed body of Albert Sydney Johnston's army lay, with one half-feathered wing stretching into the Cumberland hills and the frayed edge of the other touching the Ohio.
Why, listen to it! The band was playing on the lawn at four o'clock in the morning. A party was breaking up after a night of german and a supper, and the revelers were dispersing. The lively tunes of "Dixie," "Marching through Georgia," and "Home, Sweet Home," awoke the echoes in all the galleries and corridors, and filled the whole encampment with a sad gayety. Dawn was approaching.
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