((This is a true story. It takes place Memorial day. Let's see if Ты can figure out the mystery before I do.))
Red Bank Battlefield, in National Park, is a very peaceful place to be. Especially when you're waiting for West Deptford's annual Memorial день parade to come marching up Hessian Avenue.
Hessian Avenue dead ends at the Whitall house, which faces away from the river. According to local legend, Anne Whitall, when the war came to Fort Mercer, refused toleave the house, even when part of the roof caved in. At that point, she took her spinning down to the cellar and kept going. After the battle, the house was used as a field hospital to treat American, British, and Hessian soldiers wounded in the fighting.
Along Hessian Avenue sits a low building. It's hard to tell if anything is inside, but that's beside the point. The things that really caught my attention were right in front of the building. The things were weathered, some еще so than others. It was clear they were nearly as old as the house. They resembled headstones. Perhaps some soldiers had been buried on this side.
I stepped up to the first one. It was badly weathered. I could only make out a few things.
"To Coop.'s Fry., Camden. Salem. 1773," I read. It didn't make any sense. I moved on to the Далее one. This one was much clearer.
"20 mi to Coop.'s Fry., Camden. Salem. 1773." Odd. It was still hard to understand. I decided to puzzle it out one bit at a time.
"20 mi. That has to mean twenty miles. So, twenty miles from this stone to…where?" I moved down to the Далее line of text.
"To Coop.'s Fry., Camden. Fry. has to stand for 'ferry.' So, it's twenty miles to Coop.'s Ferry, which must be in Camden." Now I had most of it figured out. I still didn't understand Coop.'s Ferry, but there was probably еще information elsewhere in the park.
"Salem. 1773." Between the first part and Salem was a fancy line. Another fancy line separated 1773 from Salem. "Salem. That must be where this thing was closest to. And 1773 had to be the дата it was put up." All that was left was to figure out Coop.'s Ferry.
In all honesty, it didn't take as long as I thought it would. Across the road was a sign that provided a sort of introduction to the history of the place. I read it carefully.
As it turned out. Coop. stood for Cooper. Cooper's Ferry was a ferry from Camden to Philadelphia. The ferry was the fastest way to the navy yards in the city. It all made sense now.
In 1773, a road had been built from Saalem to Cooper's Ferry in Camden. The builders had had the mile markers carved and placed them every mile along the road. There had probably been similar markers up and down the East Coast.
Over the years, the markers slowly eroded, having been exposed to the elements. That was why the first one hhad been so hard to read. It looked like the mystery of the mile markers was finally solved.
Red Bank Battlefield, in National Park, is a very peaceful place to be. Especially when you're waiting for West Deptford's annual Memorial день parade to come marching up Hessian Avenue.
Hessian Avenue dead ends at the Whitall house, which faces away from the river. According to local legend, Anne Whitall, when the war came to Fort Mercer, refused toleave the house, even when part of the roof caved in. At that point, she took her spinning down to the cellar and kept going. After the battle, the house was used as a field hospital to treat American, British, and Hessian soldiers wounded in the fighting.
Along Hessian Avenue sits a low building. It's hard to tell if anything is inside, but that's beside the point. The things that really caught my attention were right in front of the building. The things were weathered, some еще so than others. It was clear they were nearly as old as the house. They resembled headstones. Perhaps some soldiers had been buried on this side.
I stepped up to the first one. It was badly weathered. I could only make out a few things.
"To Coop.'s Fry., Camden. Salem. 1773," I read. It didn't make any sense. I moved on to the Далее one. This one was much clearer.
"20 mi to Coop.'s Fry., Camden. Salem. 1773." Odd. It was still hard to understand. I decided to puzzle it out one bit at a time.
"20 mi. That has to mean twenty miles. So, twenty miles from this stone to…where?" I moved down to the Далее line of text.
"To Coop.'s Fry., Camden. Fry. has to stand for 'ferry.' So, it's twenty miles to Coop.'s Ferry, which must be in Camden." Now I had most of it figured out. I still didn't understand Coop.'s Ferry, but there was probably еще information elsewhere in the park.
"Salem. 1773." Between the first part and Salem was a fancy line. Another fancy line separated 1773 from Salem. "Salem. That must be where this thing was closest to. And 1773 had to be the дата it was put up." All that was left was to figure out Coop.'s Ferry.
In all honesty, it didn't take as long as I thought it would. Across the road was a sign that provided a sort of introduction to the history of the place. I read it carefully.
As it turned out. Coop. stood for Cooper. Cooper's Ferry was a ferry from Camden to Philadelphia. The ferry was the fastest way to the navy yards in the city. It all made sense now.
In 1773, a road had been built from Saalem to Cooper's Ferry in Camden. The builders had had the mile markers carved and placed them every mile along the road. There had probably been similar markers up and down the East Coast.
Over the years, the markers slowly eroded, having been exposed to the elements. That was why the first one hhad been so hard to read. It looked like the mystery of the mile markers was finally solved.
This is for all the kids who are bullied by words. My teachers always say be bleacher people. Lift others up. I hope this poem gives that message to others.
Ты yell at me
mean words.
They
pierce my heart.
I say its ok.
I Переместить on.
But the words
still have power.
They still hurt
me.
My friends
tell me
its a big deal,
and that I
need to tell
a teacher.
But I say im fine.
Im really not.
I want to
believe
that im fine,
I want to
believe that
it was
nothing.
But it was
something.
Words always
have power.
Enough power to
strike me
down,
или lift
me up.
Why must
Ты hurt
me?
Ты yell at me
mean words.
They
pierce my heart.
I say its ok.
I Переместить on.
But the words
still have power.
They still hurt
me.
My friends
tell me
its a big deal,
and that I
need to tell
a teacher.
But I say im fine.
Im really not.
I want to
believe
that im fine,
I want to
believe that
it was
nothing.
But it was
something.
Words always
have power.
Enough power to
strike me
down,
или lift
me up.
Why must
Ты hurt
me?
Why should I live,what's with life?He gave me 5 Книги I know them so well I know everyone page I could read it with out actually Чтение it!!!One день i awoke with a holy bble on my bed.It was from one of the demon's junior demon wives.It had a tag and a note saying"srry for ur troubles hope u havnt read this before lol".The oldest thing is i knew who she was because she was a human like me before the demon turned her into one of his own.Then i thought wait why havnt i been turnd in to a demon yet?Then it hit me! maybe he needs fresh to keep him alive!
By AuthorForPooh
The bare moment when no one's
there to guide her
feet down the worn path.
She's traveled this path times before,
but Ты are always there
in her way.
Ты scare her with your
harsh words and strong hands,
she runs back every time.
Ты laugh.
What she doesn't realize, is that
we too are on that path.
Her friends.
We pull her to her feet
and push past you.
Because she's never alone.
Im tried of bullying. Its mean. As a friend i will stick by my friends. Help stop bullying!
Para todos aquellos que hablen español o lo entiendan, aquí les dejo un poema que escribi hace mucho tiempo ya
Nunca había visto caer la lluvia así
Sólo cae
Mientras tú vuelves a casa
La lluvia cae
Pasaron tres horas sin tu regreso
Aún te espero en la puerta
No busco la lluvia
Espero tu vuelta
Pasaron айва años
Te sigo esperando afuera
Aun contengo tu sonrisa
Esperando que llueva
Pero ahora es muy tarde
La lluvia ha cesado
Y aun espero tu llegada
Sigo esperando tu mirada
Nunca había visto caer la lluvia así
Sólo cae
Mientras tú vuelves a casa
La lluvia cae
Pasaron tres horas sin tu regreso
Aún te espero en la puerta
No busco la lluvia
Espero tu vuelta
Pasaron айва años
Te sigo esperando afuera
Aun contengo tu sonrisa
Esperando que llueva
Pero ahora es muy tarde
La lluvia ha cesado
Y aun espero tu llegada
Sigo esperando tu mirada