William John Locke:The Rough Road
- new book ISBN: 9781458999801
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustra… More...
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1918 edition. Excerpt: ...are all in very great peril. My men are dying of thirst, and if you have any more of the wine, give it to them, and they will do their utmost to conduct your mother and yourself to a place of safety.'' Alas! there were only three bottles in our little panier of provisions. Naturally I gave it all--together with the food. He called a sergeant, who took the provisions and distributed them, while I was tending my mother. But I noticed that the two officers took neither bite nor sup. It was only afterwards, Monsieur Trevor, that I realised I had seen your great English gentlemen.... Then they dug a little grave, a pointe des baionnettes, for my father.... It was soon finished... the danger was grave... and some soldiers took a rope and pulled the hand cart, with my mother lying on top of our little possessions, and I walked with them, until the whole of my life was blotted out with fatigue. We got on to the Route Nationale again and mingled again with the Retreat. And in the night, as we were still marching, there was a halt. I went to my mother. She was cold, Monsieur, cold and stiff. She was dead. She paused tragically. After a few moments she continued: I fainted. I do not know what happened till I recovered consciousness at dawn. I found myself wrapped in one of our blankets lying under the handcart. It was the market square of a little town. And there were many--old men and women and children, refugees like me. I rose and found a paper--a leaf torn from a notebook--fixed to the handcart. It was from the officer, bidding me farewell. Military necessity forced him to go on with his men--but he had kept his word and brought me to a place of safety.... That is how I first met the English, Monsieur Trevor. They had carried me, I suppose, on the... William John Locke, Books, Fiction and Literature, The Rough Road Books>Fiction and Literature, General Books LLC<
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William John Locke:The Rough Road
- new book ISBN: 9781458999801
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustra… More...
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1918 edition. Excerpt: ...are all in very great peril. My men are dying of thirst, and if you have any more of the wine, give it to them, and they will do their utmost to conduct your mother and yourself to a place of safety.'' Alas! there were only three bottles in our little panier of provisions. Naturally I gave it all--together with the food. He called a sergeant, who took the provisions and distributed them, while I was tending my mother. But I noticed that the two officers took neither bite nor sup. It was only afterwards, Monsieur Trevor, that I realised I had seen your great English gentlemen.... Then they dug a little grave, a pointe des baionnettes, for my father.... It was soon finished... the danger was grave... and some soldiers took a rope and pulled the hand cart, with my mother lying on top of our little possessions, and I walked with them, until the whole of my life was blotted out with fatigue. We got on to the Route Nationale again and mingled again with the Retreat. And in the night, as we were still marching, there was a halt. I went to my mother. She was cold, Monsieur, cold and stiff. She was dead. She paused tragically. After a few moments she continued: I fainted. I do not know what happened till I recovered consciousness at dawn. I found myself wrapped in one of our blankets lying under the handcart. It was the market square of a little town. And there were many--old men and women and children, refugees like me. I rose and found a paper--a leaf torn from a notebook--fixed to the handcart. It was from the officer, bidding me farewell. Military necessity forced him to go on with his men--but he had kept his word and brought me to a place of safety.... That is how I first met the English, Monsieur Trevor. They had carried me, I suppose, on the... William John Locke, Books, Fiction and Literature, The Rough Road Books>Fiction and Literature <
(*) Book out-of-stock means that the book is currently not available at any of the associated platforms we search.