A stop for lunch and then a drive over the biggest bridge Carmen had ever seen - and then they were in Galveston.
Cynthia pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with an index finger and cleared her throat of that nauseating lump.
It read, 'Croft's Feed, Alder's Bridge, West Virginia!
Betsy was frustrated; anxious to learn if the town of Alder's Bridge existed.
When Betsy and I snuggled in bed, she admitted her profound disappointment in not finding Alder's Bridge a reality.
I promised to keep looking for a reference to Alder's Bridge for him.
Alder's Bridge was re-named Brockville, after the first soldier fatality of World War Two!
I guess you're both excited about finding Alder's Bridge actual exists.
If Brockville is the Alder's Bridge I saw I'll probably faint.
"I guess that was Alder's Bridge's bridge," I said, breaking the silence.
I wanted it to be your Alder's Bridge too.
"My friend called the town Alder's Bridge," Betsy said.
We bid Mayor Wilkie good day, content Alder's Bridge as we continued to call it, was in good hands.
But Howie nagged me to start bridge building.
On the Westport Village Road we passed through the first covered bridge thrilling Molly to no end.
The 1862 bridge burned and was painstakingly replaced in 2001.
The next bridge was on Carlton Road and originally dated back to 1789.
To contain the, uh, coaching being done, the Original Beings are ordaining a new god to act as a sort of referee here on earth who will have the ability to bridge the physical and divine worlds.
After a switchback, they crossed the bridge over a deep gorge, the location of Ouray's now-melted ice climbing park where David Dean had almost lost his life the prior winter.
The couple strolled down Seventh Street to the bridge that crossed the Uncompahgre River as it spilled its way down from the mountains.
Deidre would trust him in time, and he didn't want to break the thin bridge of trust they'd established last night.
With that thought came the realization that she had crossed another bridge in their marriage.
Thus far, he didn't know what it was he was supposed to need from the nun in front of him, and he was too cautious to set this bridge on fire.
He'd helped build the bridge between the two who were sworn together as mates after they barely learned each other's' names.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Wynn's voice carried a note of sorrow.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said in a husky tone.
"We.ve crossed this bridge before," she assured her.
She wore eyeglasses, taped together on the bridge, and Dean had never seen her in more than two or three different outfits: Alice in Wonderland with a far inferior tailor.
The couple drove over the narrow wooden bridge that spanned Red Mountain Creek, and joined two other cars in the small parking area.
At this spot, a bridge spanning the Uncompahgre River bisected the two main climbing sections that extended almost a mile.
While the others moved cautiously to the bridge, enthralled by the scene in both directions, Edith refused to budge any further.
The view downstream and directly below the bridge was awesome.
At Ryland's urging they crossed the bridge past the area where the main activities of the ice festival were being assembled for the weekend.
The largest group was assembled below the bridge where some activity was taking place.
After the trail bent toward the cliff, Dean could see down the gorge, all the way to the roadway bridge where ghost-like spectators continued to mill about in the whirl of falling snow.
As he came out of the trees and crossed the bridge, he passed the sheriff 's car and emergency vehicles, their bubble gum lights still turning red or blue in the thickening snow.
I was downstream, on the other side of the bridge, watching Penny and by the time I noticed the crowd and got there, they were getting ready to haul Shipton out.
As Dean and his stepfather neared the bridge, they looked up to see a uniformed City of Ouray police man pointing at him.
From what he could see from the roadway bridge the upper path was empty.
He hesitated, wondering if they had chosen a lower climbing spot, below the bridge that spanned the gorge.
Connor pinched the bridge of his nose.
Why burn that bridge when she might get desperate enough to cross it?
Three stories tall, the old mill stood picturesquely at the edge of the river, an old metal one-lane bridge at one side beckoned travelers to visit the lush pastures on the other side.
They found a place on the side of the bridge and stared down at the water as it roared over the spillway.
A car crossed the bridge behind them, leaving a wake of squeaking and groaning metal and wood.
Well, that bridge was burned to a crisp.
"Yeah. Well, I guess we can cross that bridge when we come to it," he answered curtly.
They were close to her condo; she drove the massive Sky Bridge every day to get to work.
Lana looked up at the bridge, trying to determine which way it was to shore.
With one last look at the river, she turned away and climbed the bank clumsily before heading towards the road leading from the bridge to her home.
However, she needed to get to the emerops facility in the town and then cross the bridge across the Mississippi.
By the time the man had finished, his night vision was better and he could make out the tiny necklace of lights in the distance, the Chesapeake Bridge-Tunnel that ran 17 miles to the Eastern shore.
"Water under the bridge," he answered.
The bake lights came on briefly as he slowed down for the bridge and then the truck disappeared into a cloud of tawny dust.
By the time they got back to the house, the creek was substantially lower – enough so that the bridge was emerging.
Within two hours, the bridge was passable.
As Rob crossed the foot bridge across the creek, Alex and Gerald emerged from the barn and started for the house.
"Well, that's all water under the bridge now," Carmen said.
The map indicated a bridge and a town not far ahead.
In front of her stood a rusty old one lane bridge with ancient wooden slats.
Hesitantly she urged the car forward, catching her breath as the bridge creaked and groaned under the weight of the tiny car.
Only when she reached the other side of the bridge did she permit herself to breathe.
She was remembering the view of the creek from the bridge - and the brush choking its banks.
The vamp army I created is gathering at the bridge on the western edge of the city.
She used it against him one time too many and burned any bridge he might consider passable.
Tostig's banishment led to the invasion of Harold Hardrada, king of Norway, and the battle of Stamford Bridge, in which both perished.
But soon the fore part of him slowly rose from the water; for an instant his whole marbleized body formed a high arch, like Virginia's Natural Bridge, and warningly waving his bannered flukes in the air, the grand god revealed himself, sounded, and went out of sight.
In reading this letter about Niagara one should remember that Miss Keller knows distance and shape, and that the size of Niagara is within her experience after she has explored it, crossed the bridge and gone down in the elevator.
If it is necessary, omit one bridge over the river, go round a little there, and throw one arch at least over the darker gulf of ignorance which surrounds us.
On the 29th of April, as I was fishing from the bank of the river near the Nine-Acre-Corner bridge, standing on the quaking grass and willow roots, where the muskrats lurk, I heard a singular rattling sound, somewhat like that of the sticks which boys play with their fingers, when, looking up, I observed a very slight and graceful hawk, like a nighthawk, alternately soaring like a ripple and tumbling a rod or two over and over, showing the under side of its wings, which gleamed like a satin ribbon in the sun, or like the pearly inside of a shell.
"One must admit," continued Prince Andrew, "that Napoleon as a man was great on the bridge of Arcola, and in the hospital at Jaffa where he gave his hand to the plague-stricken; but... but there are other acts which it is difficult to justify."
The wide expanse that opened out before the heights on which the Russian batteries stood guarding the bridge was at times veiled by a diaphanous curtain of slanting rain, and then, suddenly spread out in the sunlight, far-distant objects could be clearly seen glittering as though freshly varnished.
Down below, the little town could be seen with its white, red-roofed houses, its cathedral, and its bridge, on both sides of which streamed jostling masses of Russian troops.
"Yes, please do," answered the general, and he repeated the order that had already once been given in detail: "and tell the hussars that they are to cross last and to fire the bridge as I ordered; and the inflammable material on the bridge must be reinspected."
Two of the enemy's shots had already flown across the bridge, where there was a crush.
But the soldiers, crowded together shoulder to shoulder, their bayonets interlocking, moved over the bridge in a dense mass.
Looking down over the rails Prince Nesvitski saw the rapid, noisy little waves of the Enns, which rippling and eddying round the piles of the bridge chased each other along.
Looking on the bridge he saw equally uniform living waves of soldiers, shoulder straps, covered shakos, knapsacks, bayonets, long muskets, and, under the shakos, faces with broad cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and listless tired expressions, and feet that moved through the sticky mud that covered the planks of the bridge.
"If he" (he meant the enemy) "begins popping at the bridge now," said the old soldier dismally to a comrade, "you'll forget to scratch yourself."
Nesvitski like the rest of the men on the bridge did not take his eyes off the women till they had passed.
As often happens, the horses of a convoy wagon became restive at the end of the bridge, and the whole crowd had to wait.
Looking down at the waters of the Enns under the bridge, Nesvitski suddenly heard a sound new to him, of something swiftly approaching... something big, that splashed into the water.
"The squadwon can't pass," shouted Vaska Denisov, showing his white teeth fiercely and spurring his black thoroughbred Arab, which twitched its ears as the bayonets touched it, and snorted, spurting white foam from his bit, tramping the planks of the bridge with his hoofs, and apparently ready to jump over the railings had his rider let him.
The imposing figure of Nesvitski followed by his Cossack, and the determination of Denisov who flourished his sword and shouted frantically, had such an effect that they managed to squeeze through to the farther side of the bridge and stopped the infantry.
Beside the bridge Nesvitski found the colonel to whom he had to deliver the order, and having done this he rode back.
Then the clang of hoofs, as of several horses galloping, resounded on the planks of the bridge, and the squadron, officers in front and men four abreast, spread across the bridge and began to emerge on his side of it.
The infantry who had been stopped crowded near the bridge in the trampled mud and gazed with that particular feeling of ill-will, estrangement, and ridicule with which troops of different arms usually encounter one another at the clean, smart hussars who moved past them in regular order.
The last of the infantry hurriedly crossed the bridge, squeezing together as they approached it as if passing through a funnel.
Only Denisov's squadron of hussars remained on the farther side of the bridge facing the enemy, who could be seen from the hill on the opposite bank but was not yet visible from the bridge, for the horizon as seen from the valley through which the river flowed was formed by the rising ground only half a mile away.
The squadron crossed the bridge and drew out of range of fire without having lost a single man.
The two Pavlograd squadrons, having crossed the bridge, retired up the hill one after the other.
I told you to fire the bridge, and now someone has gone and blundered; they are all beside themselves over there and one can't make anything out.
"But, my dear sir," said Nesvitski as he drew up, taking off his cap and smoothing his hair wet with perspiration with his plump hand, "wasn't I telling you to fire the bridge, when inflammable material had been put in position?"
You said the bridge would be burned, but who would it burn, I could not know by the holy spirit!
"I will the bridge fire," he said in a solemn tone as if to announce that in spite of all the unpleasantness he had to endure he would still do the right thing.
Rostov did not think what this call for stretchers meant; he ran on, trying only to be ahead of the others; but just at the bridge, not looking at the ground, he came on some sticky, trodden mud, stumbled, and fell on his hands.
"At boss zides, Captain," he heard the voice of the colonel, who, having ridden ahead, had pulled up his horse near the bridge, with a triumphant, cheerful face.
Meanwhile Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer of the suite were standing together out of range of the shots, watching, now the small group of men with yellow shakos, dark-green jackets braided with cord, and blue riding breeches, who were swarming near the bridge, and then at what was approaching in the distance from the opposite side--the blue uniforms and groups with horses, easily recognizable as artillery.
Will they burn the bridge or not?
Will they get there and fire the bridge or will the French get within grapeshot range and wipe them out?
These were the questions each man of the troops on the high ground above the bridge involuntarily asked himself with a sinking heart--watching the bridge and the hussars in the bright evening light and the blue tunics advancing from the other side with their bayonets and guns.
The infantry in their blue uniforms advanced toward the bridge at a run.
Rostov, absorbed by his relations with Bogdanich, had paused on the bridge not knowing what to do.
There was no one to hew down (as he had always imagined battles to himself), nor could he help to fire the bridge because he had not brought any burning straw with him like the other soldiers.
He stood looking about him, when suddenly he heard a rattle on the bridge as if nuts were being spilt, and the hussar nearest to him fell against the rails with a groan.
"Inform the prince that I the bridge fired!" said the colonel triumphantly and gaily.
What of the bridge and its celebrated bridgehead and Prince Auersperg?
No, the bridge has not yet been taken and I hope it will not be, for it is mined and orders have been given to blow it up.
This affair of the Thabor Bridge, at Vienna....
Why, the French have crossed the bridge that Auersperg was defending, and the bridge was not blown up: so Murat is now rushing along the road to Brunn and will be here in a day or two.
But why did they not blow up the bridge, if it was mined?
But if the bridge is crossed it means that the army too is lost?
(Observe that all three are Gascons.) 'Gentlemen,' says one of them, 'you know the Thabor Bridge is mined and doubly mined and that there are menacing fortifications at its head and an army of fifteen thousand men has been ordered to blow up the bridge and not let us cross?
But it will please our sovereign the Emperor Napoleon if we take this bridge, so let us three go and take it!' 'Yes, let's!' say the others.
And off they go and take the bridge, cross it, and now with their whole army are on this side of the Danube, marching on us, you, and your lines of communication.
These gentlemen ride onto the bridge alone and wave white handkerchiefs; they assure the officer on duty that they, the marshals, are on their way to negotiate with Prince Auersperg.
The officer sends for Auersperg; these gentlemen embrace the officers, crack jokes, sit on the cannon, and meanwhile a French battalion gets to the bridge unobserved, flings the bags of incendiary material into the water, and approaches the tÃªte-de-pont.
The French battalion rushes to the bridgehead, spikes the guns, and the bridge is taken!
But what is best of all," he went on, his excitement subsiding under the delightful interest of his own story, "is that the sergeant in charge of the cannon which was to give the signal to fire the mines and blow up the bridge, this sergeant, seeing that the French troops were running onto the bridge, was about to fire, but Lannes stayed his hand.
Come, you must own that this affair of the Thabor Bridge is delightful!
The spy reported that the French, after crossing the bridge at Vienna, were advancing in immense force upon Kutuzov's line of communication with the troops that were arriving from Russia.
If Kutuzov decided to retreat along the road from Krems to Olmutz, to unite with the troops arriving from Russia, he risked being forestalled on that road by the French who had crossed the Vienna bridge, and encumbered by his baggage and transport, having to accept battle on the march against an enemy three times as strong, who would hem him in from two sides.
The French, the spy reported, having crossed the Vienna bridge, were advancing by forced marches toward Znaim, which lay sixty-six miles off on the line of Kutuzov's retreat.
The success of the trick that had placed the Vienna bridge in the hands of the French without a fight led Murat to try to deceive Kutuzov in a similar way.
The Austrians let themselves be tricked at the crossing of the Vienna bridge, you are letting yourself be tricked by an aide-de-camp of the Emperor.
Again, as at the Enns bridge, there was nothing between the squadron and the enemy, and again that terrible dividing line of uncertainty and fear--resembling the line separating the living from the dead--lay between them.
He did not now run with the feeling of doubt and conflict with which he had trodden the Enns bridge, but with the feeling of a hare fleeing from the hounds.
The regimental commander and Major Ekonomov had stopped beside a bridge, letting the retreating companies pass by them, when a soldier came up and took hold of the commander's stirrup, almost leaning against him.
He was firmly convinced that this was the day of his Toulon, or his bridge of Arcola.
He was silent all through dinner and looked about, blinking and scowling, or, with fixed eyes and a look of complete absent-mindedness, kept rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Nicholas submitted to him, and at one moment prayed to God as he had done on the battlefield at the bridge over the Enns, and then guessed that the card that came first to hand from the crumpled heap under the table would save him, now counted the cords on his coat and took a card with that number and tried staking the total of his losses on it, then he looked round for aid from the other players, or peered at the now cold face of Dolokhov and tried to read what was passing in his mind.
They went through the muddy village, past threshing floors and green fields of winter rye, downhill where snow still lodged near the bridge, uphill where the clay had been liquefied by the rain, past strips of stubble land and bushes touched with green here and there, and into a birch forest growing on both sides of the road.
He accompanied them on foot as far as the bridge that could not be crossed, so that they had to go round by the ford, and he sent huntsmen to ride in front with lanterns.
During all these discussions Pfuel and his interpreter, Wolzogen (his "bridge" in court relations), were silent.
Below the village the road crossed the river by a bridge and, winding down and up, rose higher and higher to the village of Valuevo visible about four miles away, where Napoleon was then stationed.
From Gorki, Bennigsen descended the highroad to the bridge which, when they had looked at it from the hill, the officer had pointed out as being the center of our position and where rows of fragrant new-mown hay lay by the riverside.
They rode across that bridge into the village of Borodino and thence turned to the left, passing an enormous number of troops and guns, and came to a high knoll where militiamen were digging.
There was a bridge ahead of him, where other soldiers stood firing.
Without being aware of it he had come to the bridge across the Kolocha between Gorki and Borodino, which the French (having occupied Borodino) were attacking in the first phase of the battle.
Pierre saw that there was a bridge in front of him and that soldiers were doing something on both sides of it and in the meadow, among the rows of new-mown hay which he had taken no notice of amid the smoke of the campfires the day before; but despite the incessant firing going on there he had no idea that this was the field of battle.
Thus an adjutant galloped up from Murat with tidings that Borodino had been occupied and the bridge over the Kolocha was in the hands of the French.
But before that order was given--almost as soon in fact as the adjutant had left Borodino--the bridge had been retaken by the Russians and burned, in the very skirmish at which Pierre had been present at the beginning of the battle.
His father keeps a cookshop here by the Stone Bridge, and you know there was a large icon of God Almighty painted with a scepter in one hand and an orb in the other.
At daybreak, however, those nearing the town at the Dorogomilov bridge saw ahead of them masses of soldiers crowding and hurrying across the bridge, ascending on the opposite side and blocking the streets and alleys, while endless masses of troops were bearing down on them from behind, and an unreasoning hurry and alarm overcame them.
They all rushed forward to the bridge, onto it, and to the fords and the boats.
They are stuck there, wedged on the bridge, and don't move.
The officer pounced on the soldiers who were in the shops, but at that moment fearful screams reached them from the huge crowd on the Moskva bridge and the officer ran out into the square.
When he reached the bridge he saw two unlimbered guns, the infantry crossing the bridge, several overturned carts, and frightened and laughing faces among the troops.
He was told by his fellow officers that the screams of the crowd and the shrieks of the woman were due to the fact that General Ermolov, coming up to the crowd and learning that soldiers were dispersing among the shops while crowds of civilians blocked the bridge, had ordered two guns to be unlimbered and made a show of firing at the bridge.
The crowd, crushing one another, upsetting carts, and shouting and squeezing desperately, had cleared off the bridge and the troops were now moving forward.
Swaying his head and smiling as if amused at himself, the officer ran almost at a trot through the deserted streets toward the Yauza bridge to overtake his regiment.
He was driving to the Yauza bridge where he had heard that Kutuzov was.
Kutuzov, dejected and frowning, sat on a bench by the bridge toying with his whip in the sand when a caleche dashed up noisily.
And strange to say, the Governor of Moscow, the proud Count Rostopchin, took up a Cossack whip and went to the bridge where he began with shouts to drive on the carts that blocked the way.
The buildings in Carriage Row, across the river, in the Bazaar and the Povarskoy, as well as the barges on the Moskva River and the timber yards by the Dorogomilov Bridge, were all ablaze.
He passed four days in the coach house near the Crimean bridge and during that time learned, from the talk of the French soldiers, that all those confined there were awaiting a decision which might come any day from the marshal.
At the bridge they all halted, waiting for those in front to get across.
From the bridge they had a view of endless lines of moving baggage trains before and behind them.
Behind, along the riverside and across the Stone Bridge, were Ney's troops and transport.
Davout's troops, in whose charge were the prisoners, were crossing the Crimean bridge and some were already debouching into the Kaluga road.
When they had crossed the Crimean bridge the prisoners moved a few steps forward, halted, and again moved on, and from all sides vehicles and men crowded closer and closer together.
They advanced the few hundred paces that separated the bridge from the Kaluga road, taking more than an hour to do so, and came out upon the square where the streets of the Transmoskva ward and the Kaluga road converge, and the prisoners jammed close together had to stand for some hours at that crossway.
But drawing from his aged wisdom what they could understand, he told them of the golden bridge, and they laughed at and slandered him, flinging themselves on, rending and exulting over the dying beast.
In the village, in the house, in the garden, by the well, by the pond, over all the rising ground, and all along the road uphill from the bridge leading to the village, not more than five hundred yards away, crowds of men could be seen through the shimmering mist.
When they had descended to the bridge Petya and Dolokhov rode past the sentinel, who without saying a word paced morosely up and down it, then they descended into the hollow where the Cossacks awaited them.
On the bridge he collided with a Cossack who had fallen behind, but he galloped on.
When Count Rostopchin at the Yauza bridge galloped up to Kutuzov with personal reproaches for having caused the destruction of Moscow, and said: "How was it you promised not to abandon Moscow without a battle?"
He alone during the retreat of the French said that all our maneuvers are useless, everything is being accomplished of itself better than we could desire; that the enemy must be offered "a golden bridge"; that neither the Tarutino, the Vyazma, nor the Krasnoe battles were necessary; that we must keep some force to reach the frontier with, and that he would not sacrifice a single Russian for ten Frenchmen.
If so much has been and still is written about the Berezina, on the French side this is only because at the broken bridge across that river the calamities their army had been previously enduring were suddenly concentrated at one moment into a tragic spectacle that remained in every memory, and on the Russian side merely because in Petersburg--far from the seat of war--a plan (again one of Pfuel's) had been devised to catch Napoleon in a strategic trap at the Berezina River.
Because they could not understand him all these people assumed that it was useless to talk to the old man; that he would never grasp the profundity of their plans, that he would answer with his phrases (which they thought were mere phrases) about a "golden bridge," about the impossibility of crossing the frontier with a crowd of tatterdemalions, and so forth.
To take us up to the lake, and planks to bridge its water channels,
The Flats Bridge, and the galley shot down the rapid like an arrow,