The Drummer's Coat

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Page 27 - For seven hours to all men's view This fight endured sore, Until our men so feeble grew That they could fight no more ; And then upon dead horses Full savourly they eat, And drank the puddle water — They could no better get.
Page 2 - B and fainter, till at last they end in a little patch of purple heather, which seems to be the end of all things. But when you look down the water, you find that the woods no longer cover the sunny side of the valley so thickly, but that there is open ground like a park. There is a gate by...
Page 1 - IN a deep wooded valley in the north of Devon stands the village of Ashacombe. It is but a little village, of some twenty or thirty cottages with white cob walls and low thatched roofs, running along the sunny side of the valley for a little way, and then curving...
Page 1 - Devonshire valleys; and as you look up the water from the bridge you can see it winding and sparkling through its margin of meadow, while the great oak woods hang still and solemn above it, till some bold green headland slopes down and shuts it from your sight; and you raise your eyes, and count fresh headlands crossing each other right and left beyond it, fainter...
Page 119 - Then he squared his shoulders and threw out his chest, and bringing up his elbows in a line with his chin he beat two taps loudly with each stick, slowly at first and gradually faster and faster till the taps blended together in a long, loud roll.
Page 38 - ... a dark handsome face, which already (probably from the effects of climate, as he could not have been more than three or four and thirty) seemed rather worn, displaying lines about the eyes and mouth which could not have heen placed there by Time.
Page 141 - ... lifted her into the carriage ; and the tears running down her cheeks, she looked out of the window as long as the house was in sight, and her brothers continued' to stand at the gate till, the road to London turning into a contrary direction, they could no longer see each other. She then, with a melancholy countenance, watched the fields and lanes she passed by, till at last, quite fatigued, she sat down, and soon afier fell asleep.
Page 91 - Oh, a soldier's son, and a soldier's son, He must never go back, but always go on. Though it may be hard, he must always try, Though he may be hurt, he must never cry.
Page 120 - ... on to his back, and made off as fast as his legs would carry him.

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