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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"Ramsey Milholland"

Well, let him holler! I guess we can attend
to him when we get back from over yonder. By George, old Ram, I'm
gettin' kind of floppy in the gills!" He administered a resounding slap
to his comrade's shoulder. "It certainly looks as if our big days were
walking toward us!"

He was right. The portentous days came on apace, and each one brought a
new and greater portent. The faces of men lost a driven look besetting
them in the days of badgered waiting, and instead of that heavy
apprehension one saw the look men's faces must have worn in 1776 and
1861, and the history of the old days grew clearer in the new. The
President went to the Congress, and the true indictment he made there
reached scoffing Potsdam with an unspoken prophecy somewhat chilling even
to Potsdam, one guesses--and then through an April night went almost
quietly the steady work: we were at war with Germany.
The bugles sounded across the continent; drums and fifes played up and
down the city streets and in town and village squares and through the
countrysides.


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