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Screensize: 640 x 480 800 x 600 1024 x 768 1280 x 1024 UserName: Password: Format Mode: Basic  Help  Prompt  Format: Videos: Font Andale Mono Arial Arial Black Book Antiqua Century Gothic Comic Sans MS Courier New Georgia Impact Lucida Console Script MT Bold Stencil Tahoma Times New Roman Trebuchet MS Verdana   Size 1 2 3 4 5 6   Color Black Red Yellow Pink Green Orange Purple Blue Beige Brown Teal Navy Maroon LimeGreen Message Icon:                             Message: Smilies [quote][i]Originally posted by Seamus[/i] [br] The old man sat under the shading branches of the huge chestnut, watching the deer trail 30 yards to his front, his flintlock rifle was lying across his lap, primed and ready, his ice-blue eyes as sharp and watchful now in the twilight of his years as they were in his youth. His body, while still lithe and strong as a man half his age, showed the telltale effects of many years of the hard life before. The scars on his face, alone, told a story of a Warrior, for that was all one would see as they looked at him. One terrible scar dominated his forehead. Under his blue-checked linen shirt and his brain-tanned deerskin breeches, however, were many more marks and scars.....scars from healed knife wounds, and hollow places where chunks of flesh were torn away by bullets which grazed him in battle, a slightly misshapen leg...broken and not properly reset...which now ached terribly when the weather was about to get cold and wet. The old narrow-brimmed beaver round hat, cut down from a tricorn, with its signature grouse tail feathers and a fluffy, iridescent turkey breast feather tucked into the left side of the narrow leather hat band, sat on his head. His hair, once dark blonde, but now streaked with gray, was neatly tied in a queue. He was keenly aware that he did not have many more years left, and thanked his God that he had been allowed to live this long. The years before had been hard, for certain, but also had been very good to him. He had a home, a wife...Nancy, the dark-haired lass of his youth, who now wore locks of silver...a son, Caleb, grown into a strapping young man who would make any man proud. “Caleb,” he thought. “My goodness how I see myself in that lad at his age!” His cousins in the Allemaengel: Many Flags and Three Tales...his cousins in Scotland, Malcolm MacWilliam and Davey Gunn, now many years retired from the 77th Highlanders, Montgomery’s, Grenadier Company. Lord! What a time they all had! Then there were Uncle Angus, his sheep, and his father, Quasi. He shook his head and chuckled aloud at the thought of them! “Quasi........My father.......,” he said to himself, and his mind began to wander back to Ireland, his mother, and how Quasi had left her alone after learning she was pregnant, to let her give birth to him and raise him alone. Her meager wages as a tavern wench often did not meet their expenses, and as he grew he was forced to forage, beg and steal enough at times to be able to eat. How he had hated Quasi! Then came the sickness that invaded his mother; the sickness which kept her from working at all. He watched her cough and get weaker each day, her color fading to a gray pall, unable to help her. A tear slipped from his eye as he recalled coming home to silence....... After burying her in the Potter’s Field, he decided to go to the American Colonies, to seek out some relatives she had told him about....Germans who had gone to the Colonies a few years before. They lived in a place in Penn’s Woods called “Allemaengel”. He had no idea where that was, but he would find it............. [/quote]    Upload an Image File From Your PC For Insertion in Your Post    -  HTML is OFF | Forum Code is ON   Check here to include your profile signature. Check here to subscribe to this topic.