Peyton Farquhar es un senior rica de un cultiveria grande, de un familia vea e alta respetada de Alabama. Con ce el es un proprior de sclavos, e como otra propriores de sclavos un politiciste, el es natural un separadiste orijinal, e ardente dedicada a la caso de la Sude. Situas de un natur comandante, sur cual lo no nesesa un raconta asi, ia preveni ce el ta servi en la armada brava cual ia combate en la campanias desastrosa cual ia fini con la cade de Corinth, e el es frustrada par la restrinje nongloriosa, anelante la relasa de sua enerjias, la vive plu grande de la soldato, la oportun per la distingui. La oportun, el senti, va veni, como lo veni a cadun en la tempo de gera. Entretempo el fa lo cual el pote. No servi es tan minor ce el no ta fa lo en la aida de la Sude, no aventura tan perilosa ce el no ta emprende, si lo ta es coerente con la carater de un sivil ci es a core un soldato, e ci aproba, en bon fida e sin tro multe constrinjes, un parte a la min de la diseda franca vil ce tota es justa en ama e gera.
Peyton Farquhar was a well-to-do planter, of an old and highly respected Alabama family. Being a slave owner and like other slave owners a politician he was naturally an original secessionist and ardently devoted to the Southern cause. Circumstances of an imperious nature, which it is unnecessary to relate here, had prevented him from taking service with the gallant army that had fought the disastrous campaigns ending with the fall of Corinth, and he chafed under the inglorious restraint, longing for the release of his energies, the larger life of the soldier, the opportunity for distinction. That opportunity, he felt, would come, as it comes to all in war time. Meanwhile he did what he could. No service was too humble for him to perform in aid of the South, no adventure too perilous for him to undertake if consistent with the character of a civilian who was at heart a soldier, and who in good faith and without too much qualification assented to at least a part of the frankly villainous dictum that all is fair in love and war.
A un sera en cuando Farquhar e su sposa senta sur un banca campanial cuasi a la entra de sua tera, un soldato vestida en la gris de la Sude veni montante a la porton e demanda per un bevi de acua. Sra Farquhar es plu ca felis sur servi el con sua propre manos blanca. En cuando el retrae la acua, sua sposo prosimi a la cavalor polvosa e demanda zelosa per novas de la fronte.
One evening while Farquhar and his wife were sitting on a rustic bench near the entrance to his grounds, a gray-clad soldier rode up to the gate and asked for a drink of water. Mrs. Farquhar was only too happy to serve him with her own white hands. While she was fetching the water her husband approached the dusty horseman and inquired eagerly for news from the front.
“La iancis repara la ferovias,” – la om dise – “e prepara per un otra avansa. Los ia ateni la ponte de la Rio Bu, ia repone lo a bon state, e ia construi un fortres sur la riva norde. La comandante ia proclama un comanda, cual es postada a cada loca, cual declara ce cualce sivil ci es caturada en disturba la ferova, sua pontes, tuneles or trenes va es pendeda sin retarda. Me ia vide la comanda.”
“The Yanks are repairing the railroads,” said the man, “and are getting ready for another advance. They have reached the Owl Creek bridge, put it in order and built a stockade on the north bank. The commandant has issued an order, which is posted everywhere, declaring that any civilian caught interfering with the railroad, its bridges, tunnels or trains will be summarily hanged. I saw the order.”
“Cuanto distante es la ponte de la Rio Bu?” – Farquhar demanda.
“How far is it to the Owl Creek bridge?” Farquhar asked.
“Sirca sincodes cilometres.”
“About thirty miles.”
“Esce on ave no fortia a esta lado de la rio?”
“Is there no force on this side the creek?”
“Sola un stasion de vijila a otosento metres distante, sur la ferovia, e un sola vijilor a esta fini de la ponte.”
“Only a picket post half a mile out, on the railroad, and a single sentinel at this end of the bridge.”
“Suposa ce un om – un sivil e studiante de la pende – ta evita la stasion de vijila e ta vinse cisa la vijilor,” – Farquhar dise suriente – “el ta pote reali cual?”
“Suppose a man – a civilian and student of hanging – should elude the picket post and perhaps get the better of the sentinel,” said Farquhar, smiling, “what could he accomplish?”
La soldato refleta. “Me ia es ala ante un mense.” – el responde. “Me ia oserva ce la deluvia de la inverno pasada ia fisa un cuantia grande de lenio flotante contra la colonas de lenio a esta fini de la ponte. Lo es aora seca e ta arde como fibres.”
The soldier reflected. “I was there a month ago,” he replied. “I observed that the flood of last winter had lodged a great quantity of driftwood against the wooden pier at this end of the bridge. It is now dry and would burn like tow.”
La seniora trae ja la acua, cual la soldato bevi. El grasia el formal, inclina a sua sposo, e parti. A un ora plu tarda, pos noti, el repasa la cultiveria, movente a norde en dirije de cual el ia veni. El es un esploror per la Norde.
The lady had now brought the water, which the soldier drank. He thanked her ceremoniously, bowed to her husband and rode away. An hour later, after nightfall, he repassed the plantation, going northward in the direction from which he had come. He was a Federal scout.
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Lo ia es automatada jenerada de la paje corespondente en la Vici de Elefen a 28 novembre 2024 (08:56 UTC).