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Mitchell, S. Weir (Silas Weir), 1829-1914

"Westways"

"
"Don't you notice, Leila, how she has kind of softened? Me and Joe was
talking of it yesterday. She always was good, but folks did use to say
she was sort of hard and--positive. Now, she's kind of gentled--noticed
that?"
"Yes, I have noticed it; but I must go. Give me the papers. You love a
talk."
"There's no news of John?"
"None of late. He is with General Grant--but where we do not know."
"It's right pleasant to have Josiah back. Lord! but he's strong on war
stories--ought to hear him. He was always good at stories."
"Yes, I suppose so. Good-bye."
James Penhallow sat on the back porch in the after luncheon hour to get
with the freshness of October what sunshine the westerning sun was
sifting through the red and gold of the maples beyond the garden walls.
He was in the undress uniform of the artillery, and still wore the
trefoil of the Second Corps. An effort by Ann to remove his soiled army
garb and substitute his lay dress caused an outbreak of anger which left
him speechless and feeble, and her in an agony of regretful penitence.
Josiah, wiser than she, ventured to tell her what had happened once
before when his badge of the glorious Second Corps had been missing.
"After all, what does it matter?" she said to herself, and made no effort
to repair the ragged bullet tear South Mountain left in his jacket, and
in which he had at his worst times such childlike pride as in another and
well-known general had once amused him.


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