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Updated: May 16, 2025
We forgot all about feuds and partings, death and hard times. All we remembered was that God is good and the world is wide and beautiful. We plodded along all day. Next morning there was a blue haze that Zebbie said meant there would be a high wind, so we hurried to reach his home that evening.
In the excitement of the moment the Colonel hurried from the spot. Horror possessed him; he felt no less than a murderer. Again he walked and walked. Retribution had overtaken him. The accursed habit that had disgraced him for twenty years had wrought its punishment. Plunged into despair he plodded along the streets, till at length, out of his stupefaction, came the question what would Amanda say?
Following the track with untiring vigour, the party found that it led them out of the lower country into a region high up amongst the hills. "Wapaw must have worked hard, for we should have overhauled him by this time," said Walter to his uncle on the evening of the next day, as they plodded steadily along through the snow.
A storm was gathering above the lovely valley of the Clyde one June evening as two strangers a man and a woman plodded wearily towards Bothwell Castle. The woman became wholly exhausted; the man laid her gently down in shelter among the ruins of Blantyre Priory, and went on his errand alone.
Polly, the Doctor's old white mare, plodded slowly along the snowy country road by the picket fence, and turned in at the snow-capped posts.
But nothing could break that stubborn infantry: animated by their leader, the Prussians and Russians plodded steadily eastwards, until, as darkness drew on, they found Grouchy's horse barring the road before Etoges.
She had to go on. She had to take the chance. She plodded southwestward doggedly, for perhaps a mile, then halted at something like a distant sound, and peered towards the shadows of the sunset. There was nothing to be seen. A hope which had risen for a moment in her breast, at thought of possible deliverance, sank down in collapse, and left her more faint than before.
So, while supper was cooking, Little Jim slipped into his bedroom and busied himself packing his own scant belongings. Presently his father called him. Little Jim plodded out bearing his few spare clothes corded in a neat bundle, with an old piece of canvas for the covering. His father had taught him to pack. Big Jim stared. Then a peculiar expression flitted across his face.
The old man mounted to his seat, and again they plodded on. "Peter," said the mistress, he was always frightened when she spoke, "Peter, we must hurry. I was late in starting. I have a great deal to do. Urge the horses." "Yas, mis', yas, mis'," and Peter laughed aloud nervously, and brandished his sassafras switch, while the steer hastened a little. They had come almost to the gates.
He plodded ardently and earnestly, the consumptive young instructor following his studies with the wistful eyes of one who sees another striving where he has striven and failed. The students met him with tolerant hilarity, and Tom Bassett, who would have kicked the Declaration of Independence across the campus in lieu of a ball, watched him with secret mirth and open championship.
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