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Updated: May 10, 2025
I hope they are all where they kin look down and see how we got it on the secesh hell-hounds. We'll do 'em up worse yit before we're through with 'em." "Our batteries are improvin' wonderfully," commented the more practical Si, studying the field. "They seem to've socked every shell in just where it'd do the most good.
Now I am well pardon me, lovely Creature, If I betray a Passion, I'm too young To've learnt the Art of hiding; I cannot hear you say that he was kind. Dia. Kind! yes, as Blasts to Flow'rs, or early Fruit; All gay I met him full of youthful Heat: But like a Damp, he dasht my kindled Flame, And all his Reason was he lov'd another, A Maid he call'd Celinda. Cel. Oh blessed Man! Dia. How, Sir? Cel.
Well, I talked along to him till I worked 'round to shamin' him a little for havin' to be christened settin' up on top a bean-arbor, same ez a crow-bird, which I told him the parson he wouldn't 'a' done ef he'd 'a' felt free to've left it undone. 'Twasn't to indulge him he done it, but to bless him an' to comfort our hearts.
"O, father," she said, growing very white, "Harry's killed." "No; not killed." The old man's lip curled with scorn. "It's worse. He seems to've suddenly discovered he wasn't prepared to die; he didn't want to rush all at once into the presence of his Maker. Mebbe he didn't think it'd be good manners. You know he was always stronger on etikwet than anything else.
Their attitude and their silence were, however, sufficient to quicken her apprehensions. "My dear child," she reproached Genevieve, "you should know that this damp mouldy air is not wholesome for you." "She's right, Miss Jenny," agreed Blake. "It's too much like Mozambique gets your thoughts muddled. You've failed to do as you said you would. I ought to've gone sooner. Good-day, Mrs. Gantry.
She took no part in the conversation, but listened, aglow with the pride of triumph, until old Ben chose to observe: "He seems to've taken a right smart set for Josie." Then she rose, blushing, and tossed her pretty, pert head. "How you all do talk!" she cried. "I'm not thinking about Mr. Duncan that way." And she left the gathering.
"We salted one of 'em, anyway," chuckled Shorty, as he raised on his knee to reload his gun. "Gosh all Chrismus," said Si, using his most formidable swear-word, for he was very angry. "What was you brats shootin' at? Squirrels or angels? A rebel'd had to be 80 cubits high, like old Haman, for one o' you to've hit him.
She can't work at the Mills any more, an' last night when we was all at the Sosherble, she seems to've had a spasm o' some kind; she can't get out o' bed this mornin' and lies there lookin' like death an' moanin'. I can't 'tend to her, I've got work o' my own to do. Lansy! how she was moanin' when I passed her door! Seemed like she'd kill herself!"
He had been helping the Virginian move his belongings from the bunk house over to the foreman's cabin. He himself was to occupy the Virginian's old bed here. "And I hope sleepin' in it will bring me some of his luck," said Scipio. "Yu'd ought to've seen us when he told us in his quiet way. Well," Scipio sighed a little, "it must feel good to have your friends glad about you."
Early one morning I overheard a conversation between two of these youthful guards: "Say, Bill, I heerd that you shot a Yank last night?" "Now, you just bet I did. God! you jest ought to've heerd him holler." Evidently the juvenile murderer had no more conception that he had committed crime than if he had killed a rattlesnake.
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