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Thomas Buchanan Read

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The terrible rumble, grumble and roar
Telling the battle was on once more—
And Sheridan twenty miles away!
--
Sheridan’s Ride.

 
Thomas Buchanan Read

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We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive..." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?"

 
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My heart is broken by the terrible loss I have sustained in my old friends and companions and my poor soldiers. Believe me, nothing except a battle lost can be half so melancholy as a battle won.

 
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The crowd upon the cross gives anguished roar;
A moment terrible to hear.

 
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In about ten days' drive we passed the southernmost settlements of New Mexico, and twenty or thirty miles further down the river we came to the ruins of Valverde [The precinct of Valverde, on the east bank of the Rio Grande, a few miles below Socorro, has now a population of three hundred. Although of considerable importance in the early nineteenth century, the town has never been rebuilt since Gregg's time. The site was, however, the rendezvous for Doniphan's troops (1846) preparatory to his march into Chihuahua. It was also the field for a battle in the War of Secession (1862), wherein the Texans won a victory over the Federal troops.—Book Editor]. This village was founded about twenty years ago, in one of the most fertile valleys of the Rio del Norte. It increased rapidly in population, until it was invaded by the Navajoes, when the inhabitants were obliged to abandon the place after considerable loss, and it has never since been repeopled. The bottoms of the valley, many of which are of rich alluvial loam, have lain fallow, ever since, and will perhaps continue to be neglected until the genius of civilization shall have spread its beneficent influences over the land. This soil is the more valuable for cultivation on account of the facilities for irrigation which the river affords; as it too frequently happens that the best lands of the settlements remain unfruitful for want of water.

 
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“Mustn’t grumble” was the most English of expressions. English patience was mingled inertia and despair. What was the use? But Americans did nothing but grumble! Americans also boasted. "I do some pretty incredible things” was not an English expression. "I’m fairly keen" was not American. Americans were showoffs — it was part of our innocence — we often fell on our faces; the English seldom showed off, so they seldom looked like fools.

 
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