Then the Ar-my of the Po-to-mac un-der Grant and Meade made a move to-ward Rich-mond. It met Lee in dense woods known as “The Wil-der-ness,” and there, and in and a-bout Spott-syl-va-ni-a Court House, fought for 16 days. The Un-ion ar-my lost 37,000 men. Lee, who led the foe, lost vast hordes, still he would not give up. Grant saw that he must get near-er to Rich-mond and this he did in a qui-et way by send-ing off a part of his ar-my from his right and march-ing it a-round to the rear of his oth-er troops. Then he pushed it as far a-head as he could on his left. Though “out-flanked,” Lee would fall back in time to be a-gain twixt Grant’s troops and Rich-mond. With troops so well matched it was hard for ei-ther to win.
By O. M. Norton, V. M. D., Veterinarian Artillery Corps, U. S. A.
Once he came to, like a man who has been asleep, to realize that he was wondering whether the lights were still blinking behind the screens while he was making his move. Did the Machine really analyze at such times or were the lights just an empty trick? He forced his mind back to the problems of the game, decided on his move, checked the board twice for any violent move he might have missed, noted on his clock that he'd taken five minutes, checked the board again very rapidly and then put out his hand and made his move—with the fiercely suspicious air of a boss compelled to send an extremely unreliable underling on an all-important errand.
She stud up, looking at me surprysed and bewildyed.
“That is quite true,” said Lady Markham, gravely. “I enter into your feelings. You don’t think that the game is worth the candle? I have heard so many people say so—even among those who were very well able to push themselves, Captain Gaunt. I have heard them say that any little thing they might have gained was not worth the expenditure and trouble of a season in London—besides all the risks.”
What if a lonely and unsistered creature
"I've seen 'em. They camp in goat-skin tents, gallop around on animal-back, wear dresses down to their ankles—"
“Can’t,” said Markham. “They must have started by this time. They are to travel slowly—to husband his strength.”
“No one,” said he, “who was a gentleman, I mean no one who had ordinary feelings of chivalry, could meet Wagner without feeling that he was in the presence of one of the Kings of our world. Certain people, both in England and Germany, have written stupid things of him; they have pointed fingers at his faults, banged their fists upon his sins. I hate those people. Faults and sins? Who has not faults? Who has not committed sins? You English have a word ‘uncanny.’ Or is it you Scottish people? Wagner was uncanny. He dived into things. Yes, he dived. And every time he lost his body in the blue sea, he brought back a pearl. A pearl? No: pearls have no mystery. He brought back, each time, a hitherto undiscovered gem.... ‘Gem’! 218What silly sounds you have in English.... Jem.... Djem!”
“Oh, come on, boys, let’s go to supper.”
The irregulars, heads bowed, replied, "Namu Amida Butsu," Glory to the Amida Buddha! Hartford, though his training as an Axenite trooper had left him as untouched by religions as by microbes, joined the prayer, feeling that a degree of celestial interest in their stratagem would not be unwelcome.
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