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Updated: July 3, 2025
But at every pitched battle, at every skirmish, at every single-handed conflict the younger man gained little by little, the older man lost step by step. The experience of age was gradually but inevitably giving way to the strength and enthusiasm of youth. Then, one day, they met face to face and alone the old, war-scarred chief, the young battle-inspired brave.
Ingona, a war-scarred veteran of perhaps fifty years of age, tall, straight as a spear shaft, and of commanding presence, rose to his feet and answered in a clear, deep voice: "It is true, O Mighty One! true in every detail." "It is true," repeated the king, in a tone of deep sorrow; "yes, unhappily there is no room to doubt it; every word carried conviction of its truthfulness to my mind.
Never had there been such an onslaught upon gingerbread carts. And W 's fair daughters, who mounted the house-tops to see the surrender, had never looked fairer. The old folks came, too, and among them were several war-scarred heroes, who had fought gallantly at Monmouth and Yorktown.
In his war-scarred body his heart at forty remained unscratched. Entering with reserve into his sister's matrimonial plans, he had felt himself falling irremediably in love as one falls off a roof. He was too proud to be frightened. Indeed, the sensation was too delightful to be alarming.
Madame Frank translated, and in beautiful Russian drove home each point. Hers was a magnificent performance. As she repeated my word-picture of their untilled fields, destroyed homes, outraged women, and murdered children, not the ravages of an alien enemy, but the work of their own hands, Russian against Russian, tears trickled down their war-scarred faces.
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