“I pity him from my soul!” The poor King had a heart to feel. This is the most beautiful anecdote of King George that we have ever found.
CHAPTER XIII
THE BUGLES BLOW
A high sound of bugles rang out in the still summer air.
It stopped all feet in the country of the cedars—it seemed as though the world stopped to listen.
Again the tone filled the summer air—nearer.
The ospreys and crows were flying high in air, down the odorous way where the bugles were blowing.
Again, and nearer.
Were the bugles those of Rochambeau, who had landed at Newport, or of a troop of the enemy coming to surprise the town?