There were a good many plain officers that talked about their "rigiment" and their "caounty" who knew very well how to say "Make ready!" "Take aim!" "Fire!"-- in the face of a line of grenadiers with bullets in their guns and bayonets on them.

And though a rustic uniform is not always unexceptionable in its cut and trimmings, yet there was many an ill-made coat in those old times that was good enough to be shown to the enemy's front rank too often to be left on the field with a round hole in its left lapel that matched another going right through the brave heart of the plain country captain or major or colonel who was buried in it under the crimson turf.
Mr.Silas Peckham said little or nothing.

His sensibilities were not acute, but he perceived that he had made a miscalculation.

He hoped that there was no offence,--thought it might have been mutooally agreeable, conclooded he would give up the idee of a colation, and backed himself out as if unwilling to expose the less guarded aspect of his person to the risk of accelerating impulses.
The Colonel shut the door,--cast his eye on the toe of his right boot, as if it had had a strong temptation,--looked at his watch, then round the room, and, going to a cupboard, swallowed a glass of deep-red brandy and water to compose his feelings..