Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 23, 2025
Cranceford shook her head. "You wait and we shall see. No member of my family was ever disgraced. I may be distressed at her peculiarities, at times, but I shall never be afraid for her conduct." Early the next morning a negro brought a letter from Louise. Mrs. Cranceford hastened to the office to read it to the Major.
Jim Taylor, too humane to impose the burden of his weight upon a horse, always made his visits on foot, and this day while trudging homeward, he met Mrs. Cranceford. She had of late conceived so marked a sympathy for him, that her manner toward him was warmly gentle. Taylor stepped to the road-side and halted there as she drove up alone in a buggy.
Old man Parker, who kept the records, nudged his neighbor and said: "Inquietude is the word. I told my wife last night, says I, 'Nancy, whenever you want the right word, go to John Cranceford. That's what I said. Major; and I might have said go to your father if he was alive, for he stood 'way up among the pictures, I tell you; and I reckon I knowd him as well as any man in the county.
He went to work, not to re-establish his former condition of ease for that hope was beyond him but to make a living for his family. On a knoll overlooking the Arkansas River stood the Cranceford homestead. The site was settled in 1832, by Captain Luke Cranceford, who had distinguished himself in an Indian war.
"Read on, please," he repeated, and he moved from the window and stood with his hands resting on the back of a chair. Mrs. Cranceford read on: "There is one misfortune of mine that has always been apparent to you and that is my painful sensitiveness.
There came a tap at the door. Mrs. Cranceford had sent a negro boy with an umbrella and a lantern. The night was wild, and the slanting rain hit hard. Before he reached the house the wind puffed out his lantern, leaving him to stumble through the dark. As he stepped upon the porch there was a loud "halloa" at the gate, and just at that moment he heard his wife's voice.
"Did Tom ever tell me anything? Did Tom ever tell anybody anything? Did he ever know anything to tell?" "She has written another letter and in it she confesses I don't know how to say it, Uncle Gideon." "Well, tell me and I'll say it for you. Confesses that she can be happy with no one but you. Go on." "Who told you? Did Mrs. Cranceford?" "My dear boy, did Mrs.
Cranceford simply smiled as if with loathness she recognized that there was cause for merriment, but when she had quitted the room and gone to her own apartment, she sat down, and with the picture in her mind, laughed in mischievous delight. "Help yourself," said the Major. Gid had spread his hands over the whisky as if to warm them in this liquidized soul of the past. "Pour it out for me, John.
Let the fur fly, Jimmie." Jim laughed, raised his leg and clasped his hands over his knee. "Uncle Gideon, I reckon I'm the happiest man in Cranceford County." The old man sat leaning back against the wall. His coat was off and under his suspenders he had hooked his thumbs. "Go on, Jimmie; I'm listening." "She has written another letter Did Tom tell you anything?" he broke off.
And here, not long afterward, was born John Cranceford, who years later won applause as commander of one of the most stubborn batteries of the Confederate Army. The house was originally built of cypress logs, but as time passed additions of boards and brick were made, resulting in a formless but comfortable habitation, with broad passage ways and odd lolling places set to entrap cool breezes.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking