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Tom Cringle's Log by Michael Scott
page 43 of 773 (05%)
welcome, however; and surely, if they do come, they will respect our
sufferings and helplessness."

The eldest sister, to whom he spoke, shook her head mournfully; but,
nevertheless, betook herself to her task of making coffee.

"What rumbling and rattling is that?" said to an old servant who had just
entered the room.

"Two wagons with wounded men, sir, have passed onwards towards the town."

"Ah!" said mine host, in great bitterness of spirit.

But allons, we proceeded to make the best use of our time--ham, good--fish,
excellent eggs, fresh--coffee, superb--when we again heard the fieldpieces
above us open their fire, and in the intervals we could distinguish the
distant rattle of musketry. Presently this rolling fire slackened, and,
after a few scattering shots here and there, ceased altogether; but the
cannon on the hill still continued to play.

We were by this time all standing in a cluster in the porch of the villa,
before which stood the tubs with the finny spoil of the fish--pond, on a
small paddock of velvet grass, about forty yards square, separated from
the high--road by a low ornamental fence of green basket--work, as already
mentioned. The firing from the great guns increased, and every now and
then I thought I heard a distant sound, as if the reports of the guns
above us had been reflected from some precipitous bank."

"I did not know that there was any echo here," said the youngest girl.

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