“Catto mourned. “Choke up, and hate the English; one year I went three months without telling a lie or swearing. All the churches cooked up beans or meatballs, and the band wore three-cornered hats. One time Stephen Douglas stopped by and made a speech. A lot of us went fishing or thieving but I always stayed to hear the band, and the volley. I saw my first soldier at one of those, a captain with a blond beard, a courtly man, bowing, saluting. I would have sold my soul to be him.” “And now you a...re.” “And now I am, and fought a war, and what the hell for. No, I don’t mean that. What for wasn’t so important. It was a great country and if a war had to be fought it was not for me to ask questions. I believed. How could you not believe in Mister Lincoln? And when the war is over we will all join hands again—that was a promise. If I had to go around shooting people, at least I knew that there would be an end to it, and we could get on with more important things. Not that I’ve put much stock lately in all the pretty sentiment.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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