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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 89, March, 1865, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 89, March, 1865 Author: Various Release Date: October 16, 2009 [EBook #30265] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY, MARCH 1865 *** Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This file was produced from images generously made available by Cornell University Digital Collections.) THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. _A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics._ VOL. XV.--MARCH, 1865.--NO. LXXXIX. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by TICKNOR AND FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. THE STORY OF A YEAR. I. My story begins as a great many stories have begun within the last three years, and indeed as a great many have ended; for, when the hero is despatched, does not the romance come to a stop? * * * * * In early May, two years ago, a young couple I wot of strolled homeward from an evening walk, a long ramble among the peaceful hills which inclosed their rustic home. Into these peaceful hills the young man had brought, not the rumor, (which was an old inhabitant,) but some of the reality of war,--a little whiff of gunpowder, the clanking of a sword; for, although Mr. John Ford had his campaign still before him, he wore a certain comely air of camp-life which stamped him a very Hector to the steady-going villagers, and a very pretty fellow to Miss Elizabeth Crowe, his companion in this sentimental stroll. And was he not attired in the great brightness of blue and gold which befits a freshly made lieutenant? This was a strange sight for these happy Northern glades; for, although the first Revolution had boomed awhile in their midst, the honest yeomen who defended them were clad in sober homespun, and it is well known that His Majesty's troops wore red. These young people, I say, had been roaming. It was plain that they had wandered into spots w
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