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Cooke, John Esten, 1830-1886

"Mohun, or, the Last Days of Lee"

It was an inspiring sight to see that child
in his little braided jacket, with his jaunty cap balanced gallantly on
his auburn curls--to see his rosy cheeks, his smiling lips, and his
small hand flourishing that tremendous sabre, as he galloped gaily amid
the fire.
"And yet," I said, "there are those who will not believe in _blood_--or
race!"
Fill the space which that dash occupies, my dear reader, with an abrupt
"duck" of the head, as a bullet went through my hat!
The charge was repulsed in twenty minutes; but the firing continued
throughout the night. When it ceased, toward daybreak, and I rode back
with General Davenant and Charley, who was as gay as a lark, and
entertained me with reminiscences of Gettysburg, I was completely
broken down with fatigue. Throwing myself upon a bed, in General
Davenant's tent, I fell asleep.
When I opened my eyes the sun was high in the heavens. I looked around
for the general, he was invisible.
I rose, and at the door of the tent met Charley, with bright eyes, and
cheeks like roses.
"The general has gone to corps head-quarters, colonel, and told me to
present you his compliments, and beg that you will remain to
breakfast."
After which formal and somewhat pompous sentence the youthful Charley
drew near, slapped me in a friendly way upon the back, and exclaimed,
with dancing eyes:--
"I say, colonel! wasn't that a jolly old he-fight we had last night?"
My reply was a laugh, and a glance of admiration at the gay boy.


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