field-brush

Updated: May 1, 2025

When the echo of the horse's hoofs had ceased, a lean gangling figure came from out of the field-brush, and met him. "Why, David boy! whar were ye to-night?" Scofield's voice had grown strangely tender in the last hour. Gaunt hesitated. He had not the moral courage to tell the old man he had enlisted. "I waited. I must air the church, it is polluted with foul smells."

Various - The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, No. 60, October, 1862