Bowing low till his plume swept the horse's mane, Tarleton galloped away.
The wrath of Aunt Molly! "Here, Pompey, you just catch that drake. Ride as fast as you can, and present it to Colonel Tarleton with my compliments."
On flying steed, drake squawking and flouncing on his back, the darkey flew after the troopers.
"Well, Pompey, did you overtake Colonel Tarleton?" was Aunt Molly's wrathful inquiry.
"Yes'm."
"What did he say?"
"He put de drake in his wallet, and say he much obleeged!"
Little Meriwether, sitting on the gate-post, laughed at his aunt's discomfiture.
The roll of a drum broke the stillness of Sabbath in the Blue Ridge.
"Tarleton's troop!" By the bed of her sick husband sat a Spartan mother at Staunton. Her sons were in the army at the north, but three young lads, thirteen, fifteen, and seventeen were there.