"On one side here, were the
dragoons; their horses were picketed here; on the other side was the
infantry. It was awful weather. What them men and their horses stood of
hardships and misery no tongue could tell. The dragoons marched down
here, looking fine and bowld, their horses were sleek and fat and
shining, when they marched away they wor staggering with the wakeness
and the men wor purty wilted looking. He made them believe he needed
protection." This with a growl that had depths of meaning in it.
"He's coming back here again. Out among nagurs or anywhere else he could
not find them to put up with him like ourselves." Of course I omit the
strong words that were used as garnishing. I must own that this was the
first time that any carman had used profane language before me--and it
wasn't himself was in it at all at all but the whiskey. "The soldiers,
whin they wor here," continued the old man, "cut down the trees of the
plantation for firing. That went to his heart, it did. How could they
help themselves, I'd like to know? Sure they would have perished with
the cowld and the wet among the pelting of the snow and the sleet.
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