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Oregon and California together sent the Cranley in January, 1915, loaded with food and clothing, and several other similar state ships were sent at later dates. A gift from the Rockefeller Foundation of a million dollars was used to load wholly or in part five relief ships, and the "Millers' Belgian Relief" movement organized and carried through by the editor of the Northwestern Millers, Mr.
A very brief interview satisfied him that his patient was going on even better than he had hoped; also that she possessed very beautiful and melancholy eyes. She said little, but that little kindly, and asked whether Mr. Cranley had sent to inquire for her. Mrs. St. St. Cranley might be about whom the girl had spoken. "Well," replied Mrs. St. John Deloraine, "it was through Mr.
"Cheating is the simplest thing in the world, at Nice or in Paris," Cranley went on; "but to show you how it is done, in case you ever do play in foreign parts, I must explain the game. You see the men first put down their stakes within the thin white line on the edge of the tabla Then the Banker deals two cards to one of the men on his left, and all the fellows on that side stand by his luck.
I'll put these two infernal women off on her, and Alice will soon do for the girl, if she once gets at the drink. She's dangerous, by Jove, when she has been drinking. Then the Law will do for Alice, and all will be plain sailing in smooth waters." St. John Deloraine Mrs. St. John Deloraine, whose letter to Mr. Cranley we have been privileged to read, was no ordinary widow.
Cranley arrived, when the clock was pointing to half-past one, at Mrs. St. John Deloraine's house in Cheyne Walk. He had scarcely entered the drawing-room before that lady, in a costume which agreeably became her pleasant English style of beauty, rushed into the room, tumbling over a favorite Dandie Dinmont terrier, and holding out both her hands. The terrier howled, and Mrs. St.
"Oh, he just looked into the room, saw the man wearing them, and didn't wait to say good-night. He just went!" Here Cranley chuckled. "I remember another time, at Nice: I always laugh when I think of it! There was a little Frenchman who played nearly every night. He would take the bank for three or four turns, and he almost always won.
"No; but he's not a good man to introduce to these boys from Oxford," Barton was saying, when the subject of their conversation came up, surrounded by his little court of undergraduates. The Hon. Thomas Cranley was a good deal older than the company in which he found himself.
"No, no, master," he answered, shaking his head; "I've sworn that no power shall ever again turn me away from the port to which I am bound; and James Cranley is not a man you would ask to break his oath, I hope." "Well, sir, but the brig will hold her own better under closer canvas, you'll allow," urged the master.
Captain Cranley, I found, was somewhat of the old school very kind-hearted and simple-minded, and not less strict towards himself than towards others with a nice sense of honour, and very sensitive of rebuke. I was very glad to find that my old friend Jack Stretcher had volunteered, with the hope of one day becoming a warrant-officer.
Cranley was a local hero, with a hero's love for the brandy he smuggled so freely, and tradition declared of him that on one occasion he set light to some barns and hayricks in order to warn some of his smuggling companions who were "running a cargo" that a trap had been laid for them.
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