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Updated: June 15, 2025
C, singing that song at night in our quarters at old Camp Carrollton. He was a big, strong six-footer, about twenty-one years of age, with a deep bass voice that sounded when singing like the roll of distant thunder. And he was an all-around good fellow. Poor Nelse! He was mortally wounded by a musket ball in the neck early in the morning of the first day at Shiloh, and died a few days thereafter.
"You'll have to be punished if you do that sort of thing." "What sort of sing?" "What you did just now; it's very naughty indeed." "What nelse?" Little Fay stood with her head on one side like an inquisitive sparrow. One of the things she had not dropped was the tin trumpet. She raised it to her lips now, and blew a blast that went through Hugo's head like a knife. He snatched it from her.
"There's no reason in the world that is, no sensible reason why Lulie and Nelson shouldn't be engaged to be married. Of course he isn't doin' very well in a business way just now, but that's partly from choice on Lulie's account. Nelse was a telegraph operator up in Brockton before the war.
"Yes, I think she did," Alexandra assented, "but I suppose she was too much afraid of Nelse to marry any one else. Now that I think of it, most of my girls have married men they were afraid of. I believe there is a good deal of the cow in most Swedish girls. You high-strung Bohemian can't understand us. We're a terribly practical people, and I guess we think a cross man makes a good manager."
"Yes yes, it looked so. I should scarcely conceive of the Almighty's wishing to remain there long." "Eh?" "Oh, it's not material. Pardon me. I inquired of the young man in charge of the ah station." "Nelse Howard? Yes, sure." "You know him, then?" Mr. Pulcifer laughed. "Say," he observed, patronizingly, "there's mighty few folks in this neighborhood I don't know. You bet that's right!"
Had Peter seen this morning's "Times?" A perfectly unmistakable incitement to mobs to gather and lynch the Reds! Section 50 From Miriam's, Peter went back to Room 427. It was Nell's idea that Nelse Ackerman would not lose a minute next morning; and sure enough, Peter found a note on the dressing-table: "Wait for me, I want to see you."
Nelse is now a better man than his father, and we shut up "Ghosts" with impatience that Ibsen should have selected that story to tell out of all the tales there must have been in the village where he lived. Now imagine if you can ... for I cannot even faintly indicate to you ... our excitement when Nelse begins to look about him for a wife.
Macadam ain't so bad, but if you step off it you're liable to go under for the third time." "Dear me! Dear me!" "Dear me's right, I cal'late. But what do you want to go to the Centre for? Hall don't live there. He lives on ahead here at East Wellmouth." "Yes that's true, that's true. So you said. But the South Wellmouth station man " "Oh, never mind Nelse Howard.
"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered. "I like to look at it," said Tony. "Oh, London may be very gay, but it's nothing to the countryside," sang Meg. "What nelse?" inquired little Fay, who could never be content with a mere snatch of song. "Oh, there's heaps and heaps of nelse," Jan answered. "Come along, chicks, we'll go and see everything.
I tell you what you done, Mister; you walked right past that crossroad Nelse told you to turn in at. THAT would have fetched you to the Centre. Instead of doin' it you kept on as you was goin' and here you be 'way out in the fag-end of nothin'. The Centre's three mile astern and East Wellmouth's about two and a ha'f ahead. Haw, haw! that's a good one, ain't it!"
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