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Dixon, Thomas, 1864-1946

"The Southerner A Romance of the Real Lincoln"

Lee, still lying on the crescent hills behind
Fredericksburg, had sixty-two thousand men and one hundred and seventy
guns. He had detached Longstreet's corps for service in Tennessee.
The Federal Commander was absolutely sure that he could throw the flower
of this magnificent army across the river seven miles above
Fredericksburg, get into Lee's rear, hurl the remainder of his forces
across the river as Burnside had done, and crush the grey army like an
egg shell. It was well planned, but in war the unexpected often happens.
Again the unexpected thing turned up in the shape of the strange, dusty
figure on his little sorrel horse.
The night before Hooker moved, Julius met with an accident which
delayed John's supper. He was just approaching the camp after a
successful stroll over the surrounding territory, carrying on his back a
sheep he meant to cook for the coming march. A rude and unsympathetic
guard arrested him. Julius was greatly grieved at his unkind remarks.
"Lordy, man, you ought not ter say things lak dat ter me! I nebber steal
nutting in my life. I wasn't even foragin' dis time----"
"The hell you weren't!"
"Na, sah. I wasn't even foragin'. I know dat de General done issue dem
orders agin hit, an' I quit long ergo----"
"This sheep looks like it----"
"Dat sheep?"
"That's what I said, you black thief!"
"Say, man, don't talk lak dat ter me--you sho hurts my feelin's.


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