a hundred times a day

since the war began, Atlanta could hear the sound of battle. In the early morning hours before the noises of the town awoke, the cannon at Kennesaw Mountain could be heard faintly, far away, a low dim booming that might have passed for summer thunder nu skin hk. Occasionally it was loud enough to be heard even above the rattle of traffic at noon. People tried not to listen to it, tried to talk, to laugh, to carry on their business, just as though the Yankees were not there, twenty-two miles away, but always ears were strained for the sound. The town wore a preoccupied look, for no matter what occupied their hands, all were listening, listening, their hearts leaping suddenly a hundred times a day. Was the booming louder? Or did they only think it was louder? Would General Johnston hold them this time? Would he HKUE ENG?
 Panic lay just beneath the surface. Nerves which had been stretched tighter and tighter each day of the retreat began to reach the breaking point. No one spoke of fears. That subject was taboo, but strained nerves found expression in loud criticism of the General. Public feeling was at fever heat. Sherman was at the very doors of Atlanta. Another retreat might bring the Confederates into the town.
 Give us a general who won’t retreat! Give us a man who will stand and fight !
 With the far-off rumbling of cannon in their ears, the state militia, “Joe Brown’s Pets,” and the Home Guard marched out of Atlanta, to defend the bridges and ferries of the Chattahoochee River at Johnston’s back. It was a gray, overcast day and, as they marched through Five Points and out the Marietta road, a fine rain began to fall. The whole town had turned out to see them off and they stood, close packed, under the wooden awnings of the stores on Peachtree Street and tried to cheer.
 Scarlett and Maybelle Merriwether Picard had been given permission to leave the hospital and watch the men go out, because Uncle Henry Hamilton and Grandpa Merriwether were in the Home Guard, and they stood with Mrs. Meade, pressed in the crowd, tiptoeing to get a better view. Scarlett, though filled with the universal Southern desire to believe only the pleasantest and most reassuring things about the progress of the fighting, felt cold as she watched the motley ranks go by. Surely, things must be in a desperate pass if this rabble of bombproofers, old men and little boys were being called out! To be sure there were young and able-bodied men in the passing lines, tricked out in the bright uniforms of socially select militia units, plumes waving, sashes dancing. But there were so many old men and young boys, and the sight of them made her heart contract with pity and with fear. There were graybeards older than her father trying to step jauntily along in the needle-fine rain to the rhythm of the fife and dram corps. Grandpa Merriwether, with Mrs. Merriwether’s best plaid shawl laid across his shoulders to keep out the rain, was in the first rank and he saluted the girls with a grin. They waved their handkerchiefs and cried gay good-bys to him; but Maybelle, gripping Scarlett’s arm, whispered: “Oh, the poor old darling! A real good rainstorm will just about finish him! His lumbago—”

Posted by hdfgh at 16:18Comments(0)sheruini


gradually and irretrievably

One has the leisure of July for perceiving all the differences of the green of leaves. It is no longer a difference in degrees of maturity1 Veda Salon, for all the trees have darkened to their final tone, and stand in their differences of character and not of mere2 date. Almost all the green is grave, not sad and not dull. It has a darkened and a daily color, in majestic3 but not obvious harmony with dark grey skies,and might look, to inconstant eyes, as prosaic4 after spring as eleven o'clock looks after the dawn.

Gravity is the world--not solemnity as towards evening,nor menace as at night. The daylight trees of July are signs of common beauty , common freshness,and a mystery familiar and abiding5 as night and day. In childhood we all have a more exalted6 sense of dawn and summer sunrise than we ever fully7 retain or quite recover; and also a far higher sensibility for April and April evenings--a heartache for them, which in riper years is gradually and irretrievably consoled.

But, on the other hand,childhood has so quickly learned to find daily things tedious, and familiar things importunate,that it has no great delight in the mere middle of the day,and feels weariness of the summer that has ceased to change visibly Health Cabin Coupon.

The poetry of mere day and of late summer becomes perceptive8 to mature eyes that have long ceased to be sated, have taken leave of weariness, and cannot now find anything in nature too familiar; eyes which have, indeed, lost sight of the further awe9 of midsummer day break, and no longer see so much of the past in April twilight10 as they saw when they had no past; but which look freshly at the dailiness of green summer, of early afternoon, of every sky of any form that comes to pass, and of the darkened elms.

Posted by hdfgh at 14:41Comments(0)sheruini


pumpernickel bread

There is no more perfect grilled cheese for St. Patrick’s Day than Corned Beef Grilled Cheese. A stack of salty corned beef, topped with sweet caramelized onions, and gooey melted cheese- Yum! This is perhaps the best way to eat corned beef. Can you disagree?
I didn’t even mention the crispy pumpernickel bread.
What is it about pumpernickel bread that makes such a great hot sandwich?
The onions are cooked in beer You Find and flavored with a little Worcestershire sauce, mustard, and a few caraway seeds.
You can use either leftover YouFind corned beef that you’ve cooked yourself, or a deli-sliced corned beef.
It reminds me a little of my all time favorite sandwich – the Reuben.
If you really wanted to go with the Metro Ethernet Irish theme, you could always add some sautéed cabbage to this Corned Beef Grilled Cheese.
Sharing this recipe with The Weekend Potluck!  

Posted by hdfgh at 11:12Comments(0)sheruini