There was a desolate village in a wood, Whose bloom-inwoven leaves now scattering fed The hungry storm; it was a place of blood, A heap of hearthless walls;—the flames were dead Within those dwellings now,—the life had fled From all those corpses now,— […]

A fine man, that Dunwody, yonder, commented the young captain, as they parted, and as he turned to his prisoner. We'll see him on in Washington some day.[…]A strong man—a strong one; and a heedless. ¶ Of what party is he? she inquired, as though casually.

The incoming signals were broken down into digital code—ones and zeroes—by a relatively simple computer and downlinked to Fort Huachuca, where another computer of vastly greater power examined the bits of raw information and tried to make sense of them.

Lew, a thatched hurdle, supported by sticks, and set up in a field to screen lambs, etc. from the wind.