The Wild Pigeon
Sat Secure Above Our Heads, High On The Dead Limbs Of Naval
Pines, Reduced To A Robin's Size.
The very yards of our
hostelries inclined upon the skirts of mountains, and, as we
passed, we looked up at a steep angle at the stems of maples
waving in the clouds.
Far up in the country, - for we would be faithful to our
experience, - in Thornton, perhaps, we met a soldier lad in the
woods, going to muster in full regimentals, and holding the
middle of the road; deep in the forest, with shouldered musket
and military step, and thoughts of war and glory all to himself.
It was a sore trial to the youth, tougher than many a battle, to
get by us creditably and with soldierlike bearing. Poor man! He
actually shivered like a reed in his thin military pants, and by
the time we had got up with him, all the sternness that becomes
the soldier had forsaken his face, and he skulked past as if he
were driving his father's sheep under a sword-proof helmet. It
was too much for him to carry any extra armor then, who could not
easily dispose of his natural arms. And for his legs, they were
like heavy artillery in boggy places; better to cut the traces
and forsake them. His greaves chafed and wrestled one with
another for want of other foes. But he did get by and get off
with all his munitions, and lived to fight another day; and I do
not record this as casting any suspicion on his honor and real
bravery in the field.
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