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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Yes; eight of the most trusted Moro workmen. But, Captain, you never can tell when you can trust any of these natives." "I know," murmured Cortland, nodding his head. At this moment the hospital steward arrived on the run, carrying a case of instruments, bottles and bandages.
I fear that at the moment I was too much absorbed in my own feelings; for certainly at any other time. I should have yielded myself without stint to the sympathy which this meeting might well call forth. "You remember my son, Cortland Saunders, whom I brought to see you once in Boston?" "I do remember him well." "He was killed on Monday, at Shepherdstown.
There was no surgeon-officer at Fort Franklin, the post commander being compelled to rely, at need, on a German physician in Bantoc. "Get right to work, steward," ordered Captain Cortland. "And I must question this man while you work over him. Edwards, are there any American women at Seaforth's?" "Three." "Good heavens!" uttered the captain, paling. "Mrs.
"It may be only a shooting affray, but we must soon know," replied Captain Cortland. All of the officers save Ray were now out on the veranda of the building. Two more shots sounded, close together. Then came a light volley, sounding lighter still. "It may be that Sergeant Terry is having trouble in town," muttered Captain Cortland, wholly alert in a second.
I fear that at the moment I was too much absorbed in my own feelings; for certainly at any other time I should have yielded myself without stint to the sympathy which this meeting might well call forth. "You remember my son, Cortland Saunders, whom I brought to see you once in Boston?" "I do remember him well." "He was killed on Monday, at Shepherdstown.
"What are we going to do?" asked Cortland, his face becoming even graver. "We have a very small command here, but there's only one thing we can do. Hakkut has defied us, and, unless he is punished for it, the native respect for American authority in these islands will soon be less than nothing. What are we going to do?
For years a considerable body of thoughtful men throughout the State, more especially of the medical profession, had sought to remedy a great evil in the treatment of the insane. As far back as the middle of the century, Senator Bradford of Cortland had taken the lead in an investigation of the system then existing, and his report was a frightful ex- posure.
Edwards's voice was becoming much weaker. He paused frequently between words. The hospital steward, standing behind the wounded man, glanced up at Captain Cortland, shaking his head. "Was the road infested with roving parties of guerillas?" inquired Captain Cortland. "No, sir," replied the bookkeeper. "I didn't run into any trouble until I reached Bantoc.
The subjoined letter from the historian Macaulay to Henry S. Randall, of Cortland, N.Y., is taken from an old file of The Cortland Standard. It was published originally in Harper's Magazine. Holly Lodge, Kensington, London, May 23, 1857. Dear Sir: The four volumes of the Colonial History of New York reached me safely. I assure you that I shall value them highly.
Nathan Graves accompanied Frank to his room, where his scanty wardrobe was soon packed. A hack was called, and they were speedily on their way to the Cortland Street ferry. They crossed the ferry, and Mr. Graves purchased two tickets to Elizabeth. He bought a paper, and occupied himself in reading. Frank felt that fortune had begun to shine upon him once more.
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