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Continental Monthly, Vol. II. July, 1862. No. 1. by Various
page 89 of 312 (28%)
'Wal, it's due half arter 'leven, but 'taint gin'rally 'long till nigh
one.'

The Colonel was turning to join me at the door, when a well-dressed
young man of very unsteady movements, who was filling a glass at the
counter, and staring at him with a sort of dreamy amazement, stammered
out: 'Moye--run--run a--way, zir! that--k--kant be--by G--d. I
know--him, zir--he's a--a friend of mine, and--I'm--I'm d--d if he an't
hon--honest.'

'About as honest as the Yankees run,' replied the Colonel: 'he's a d--d
thief, sir!'

'Look here--here, zir--don't--don't you--you zay any--thing 'gainst--the
Yankees. D--d if--if I an't--one of 'em mezelf--zir,' said the fellow
staggering toward the Colonel.

'_I_ don't care _what_, you are; you're drunk.'

'You lie--you--you d--d 'ris--'ristocrat--take that,' was the reply, and
the inebriated gentleman aimed a blow, with all his unsteady might, at
the Colonel's face.

The South-Carolinian stepped quickly aside, and dexterously threw his
foot before the other, who--his blow not meeting the expected
resistance--was unable to recover himself, and fell headlong to the
floor. The Colonel turned on his heel, and was walking quietly away,
when the sharp report of a pistol sounded through the apartment, and a
ball tore through the top of his boot, and lodged in the wall within
two feet of where I was standing. With a spring, quick and sure as the
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