The Coward: A Novel of Society and the Field in 1863Morford, Henry
History
The Coward: A Novel of Society and the Field in 1863
Morford, Henry
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
Rowan and Townsend had places assigned them near the middle of the line,
but as the cavalcade began to move, the human demon of unrest was missing
from his place. He was to be seen at the end of the piazza at that moment,
talking to Hartshorne, and no doubt making a few additional inquiries as to
the character of the amiable animal he bestrode. The lawyer called out to
him to "Come on!" but he answered with a wave of the hand and a shout:
"Go ahead! don't wait for me! I will be with you directly!"
Through the thick woods of Mount Clinton they swept up, over a bridle-path
so rough as to have made the most laborious if not the most dangerous
walking--over great boulders of stone lying in the very path, and
apparently impossible to get over or around--over patches of corduroy road
utterly defying description, except to the men who isolated Fort Donelson
and planted the Swamp Angels in the marshes of Charleston--over and through
gutters and gulches of slippery stone and more slippery mud--but ever
ascending at a painful acclivity. The horses breathed heavily; and their
riders, in the thick and foggy air, did little better. They caught
occasional glimpses through the trees, down the sudden slopes at the left,
of the thick mist rolling below, but could see nothing else to remind them
of the height they were attaining; and as the dense fog swept in their
faces, and the trees dripped moisture on them when they swept beneath their
branches, and the path grew more and more desolate and difficult, they grew
silent, the whole cavalcade, apparently by common consent. There are
aspects in which Nature looks and feels too solemn for the light word and
the flippant jest; and the man who cannot be awed beyond his ordinary mood
when standing under the edge of the sheet of Niagara, or beside the sea
when it is lashed into resistless fury, or in gale and mist on the bleak,
bare, desolate mountains of the North, should never insult the grand and
the terrible by going into their presence!
And yet all persons, who have true reverence in their hearts, are not
always awed beyond themselves, even in the most impressive of situations:
as witness, to some degree, the incidents following.
They had surmounted the first acclivity, perhaps a mile from the Crawford,
and were commencing a slight descent which made every rider look to the
horse's feet and ride with a slight tremor,--when the stillness was
suddenly broken in a manner which almost curdled the blood of the timid and
needed a second reassurance for even the boldest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account