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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"A Story of the Western Crisis"


Why, Uncle Charles, everybody knows that you'd annihilate 'em if you
could, and that you were making good progress with the task until you got
that wound."
Colonel Woodville drew his great, white eyebrows together in his
characteristic way.
"I admit, Victor, that I'm the prince of Yankee haters," he said.
"They've ruined me, and if they succeed they'll ruin our state and the
whole South, too. We've fled for refuge to a hole in the ground, and yet
they come thundering at the door of so poor an abode. Listen!"
They heard plainly the far rumble of the cannon. The intensity of the
fire increased with the growing day. Shells and bombs were falling
rapidly on Vicksburg. The face of Colonel Woodville darkened and the
eyes under the white thatch burned.
"Nevertheless, Victor," he said, "hate the Yankees as I do, and I hate
them with all my heart and soul, there are some things a gentleman cannot
do."
"What for instance, Uncle?"
"He cannot break faith. He cannot do evil to those who have done good to
him. He must repay benefits with benefits.


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