The humming of the gnats that danced above the eddies of the stream, the beating of the dragon flies' wings, the strokes of the water spiders' legs, like oars which had lifted their boat - all these made audible music. He felt his head emerge; his eyes were blinded by the sunlight; his chest expanded convulsively, and with a supreme and crowning agony his lungs engulfed a great draught of air, which instantly he expelled in a shriek! That opportunity, he felt, would come, as it comes to all in wartime. How slowly it appeared to move! The power of thought was restored; he knew that the rope had broken and he had fallen into the stream. He stands at the gate of his own home. The other bank of the stream was open ground - a gentle slope topped with a stockade of vertical tree trunks, loopholed for rifles, with a single embrasure through which protruded the muzzle of a brass cannon commanding the bridge. The liberal military code makes provision for hanging many kinds of persons, and gentlemen are not excluded.
Ah, how beautiful she is! He was a Federal scout. There was no additional strangulation; the noose about his neck was already suffocating him and kept the water from his lungs. Excepting the group of four at the center of the bridge, not a man moved. A fish slid along beneath his eyes and he heard the rush of its body parting the water. He was sure they were arranged in some order which had a secret and malign significance.
He felt the ripples upon his face and heard their separate sounds as they struck. Eventually, he gets to the bank of the stream and runs into the forest. Just as he is about to wrap his arms around her, he feels a sudden pain and everything blacks out. Farquhar mentions his plan of escape in part 1, a completely absurd plan that occurs in part 3. Halfway between the bridge and the fort stand a line of soldiers, all armed. He had not wish to perfect his escape - he was content to remain in that enchanting spot until retaken.
He had come to the surface facing down the stream; in a moment the visible world seemed to wheel slowly round, himself the pivotal point, and he saw the bridge, the fort, the soldiers upon the bridge, the captain, the sergeant, the two privates, his executioners. The first section contains the exposition. Overhead, as he looked up through this rift in the wood, shone great golden stars looking unfamiliar and grouped in strange constellations. Students have 10-15 minutes to write everything they know about the Civil War. The end upon which the civilian stood almost, but not quite, reached a fourth. This section contains 806 words approx.
Peyton is a private citizen who works the fields and lives with his wife and children on his plantation farm. As he pushes open the gate and passes up the wide white walk, he sees a flutter of female garments; his wife, looking fresh and cool and sweet, steps down from the veranda to meet him. Its recurrence was regular, but as slow as the tolling of a death knell. They were, indeed, preternaturally keen and alert. .
No; I will not be shot; that is not fair. The preparations being complete, the two private soldiers stepped aside and each drew away the plank upon which he had been standing. He travels all night and eventually arrives home to his wife. The third section contains the suspenseful escape and shocking conclusion. They beat the water vigorously with quick, downward strokes, forcing him to the surface. Peyton Farquhar thinks of many things as he stands on this bridge, with hands behind his back, wrists bound with cords, as he stares at the water 20 feet below, with a noose around his neck. His tongue was swollen with thirst; he relieved its fever by thrusting it forward from between his teeth into the cold air.
Suddenly he heard a sharp report and something struck the water smartly within a few inches of his head, spattering his face with spray. His neck ached horribly; his brain was on fire, his heart, which had been fluttering faintly, gave a great leap, trying to force itself out at his mouth. Beyond one of the sentinels nobody was in sight; the railroad ran straight away into a forest for a hundred yards, then, curving, was lost to view. Their movements were grotesque and horrible, their forms gigantic. Circumstances of an imperious nature, which it is unnecessary to relate here, had prevented him from taking service with that gallant army which 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.
When the soldiers finish their preparations, they move off of the bridge. Something in the awful disturbance of his organic system had so exalted and refined them that they made record of things never before perceived. A lieutenant stood at the right of the line, the point of his sword upon the ground, his left hand resting upon his right. Transcript: This is a story about a man named Peyton Fahrquhar, a Southerner who is being hanged in Alabama by Union soldiers during the Civil War. He was a civilian, if one might judge from his habit, which was that of a planter. The sudden arrest of his motion, the abrasion of one of his hands on the gravel, restored him, and he wept with delight.
He does so and surfaces for a deep gulp while being shot at. Fahrquhar was only too happy to serve him with her own white hands. They hurt his ear like the trust of a knife; he feared he would shriek. Facebook Page - Paper by Fifty Three was used to make this video. Doubtless, despite his suffering, he had fallen asleep while walking, for now he sees another scene - perhaps he has merely recovered from a delirium. He watched them with a new interest as first one and then the other pounced upon the noose at his neck. He observed that it was a gray eye and remembered having read that gray eyes were keenest, and that all famous marksmen had them.