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Updated: June 2, 2025
"I don't see what business it is of yours, Mr. Gildersleeve," he murmured, in a somewhat apologetic voice. "I may surely be allowed to hunt up questions of pedigree, of service in the end to myself and my friends, without YOUR interference." Gilbert Gildersleeve glared at him, and flared up all at once with righteous indignation.
W.C. GILDERSLEEVE, Esq., a native of Georgia, an elder of the Presbyterian Church at Wilkes-barre, Pa. says: "The corn is ground in a handmill by the slave after his task is done generally there is but one mill on the plantation, and as but one can grind at a time, the mill is going sometimes very late at night."
But don't commence your attack under half an hour." Next he filed the Fifth into the thickets, saying to Colburn, "I want you to halt a hundred yards to the left and rear of Gildersleeve. Cover his flank if he is attacked; but otherwise lie quiet. As soon as he charges, move forward to the edge of the wood, and be ready to support him. But make no assault yourself until further orders."
But don't commence your attack under half an hour." Next he filed the Fifth into the thickets, saying to Colburn, "I want you to halt a hundred yards to the left and rear of Gildersleeve. Cover his flank if he is attacked; but otherwise lie quiet. As soon as he charges, move forward to the edge of the wood, and be ready to support him. But make no assault yourself until further orders."
"Is he really ill, do you think, papa?" she asked, somewhat anxiously; "or is he only well only frightened?" Mr. Clifford stared at her with a blank leathery face of self-satisfied incomprehension. "Frightened!" he repeated solemnly; "Sir Gilbert Gildersleeve frightened! And of Granville Kelmscott, too! That's true wit, Elma; the juxtaposition of the incongruous.
Down in the drawing-room, however, Mrs. Gildersleeve found the famous Q.C. absorbed in the perusal of that day's paper. She came across towards him, pale as a ghost, and with ashen lips.
Then he saw, an indefinite distance beyond him, burning like red-hot iron through the darkness, a little scarlet or crimson gleam, as of a lighted cigar. "That's Old Grumps, of the Bloody Fourteenth," he thought. "I've raided into his happy sleeping-grounds. I'll draw on him." But Old Grumps, otherwise Colonel Lafayette Gildersleeve, had no rations that is, no whiskey.
"Is the Colonel hit?" he asked, shocked and grieved, incredible as the emotion may seem. "Don't go near him," called Gildersleeve, who, it will be remembered, knew or guessed his errand in camp. "The chaplain and surgeon are there. Let him alone." "He's going to render his account," added Gahogan. "An' whativer he's done wrong, he's made it square to-day. Let um lave it to his brigade."
On the way he sent a staff officer to the Seventh with renewed orders to attack as soon as possible after Gildersleeve. Then another staff officer was hurried forward to Taylor with directions to push his feint strongly, and drive his skirmishers as far up the slope as they could get. A third staff officer set the Parrotts in rear of Taylor to firing with all their might.
"Is the Colonel hit?" he asked, shocked and grieved, incredible as the emotion may seem. "Don't go near him," called Gildersleeve, who, it will be remembered, knew or guessed his errand in camp. "The chaplain and surgeon are there. Let him alone." "He's going to render his account," added Ga-hogan. "An' whativer he's done wrong, he's made it square to-day. Let um lave it to his brigade."
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