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Updated: May 16, 2025
He who could not relate and impersonate an anecdote to illustrate and clinch his argument, nor "make the welkin ring" with the clarion tones of his voice, was politically good for nothing. James K. Polk and James C. Jones led the van of stump orators in Tennessee, Ben Hardin, John J. Crittenden and John C. Breckenridge in Kentucky.
For his Calhoun attracted much attention and secured him other commissions among them, one for the busts of Webster and Crittenden. To get these, he was forced to go to Washington, and there he met the Hon. Cave Johnson, President of the Jackson Monument Commission, which had got together the funds for an equestrian statue of that old hero.
The speeches of Seward, of Douglas, of Crittenden, of Andrew Johnson, of Baker, and others, in behalf of the Union, and those of Benjamin, Davis, Wigfall, Lane, and others, in behalf of Secession, did much toward fixing the responsibility for the approaching bloody conflict where it belonged.
That almost broke the Sergeant's heart, but the hope of a fight, now, was fast healing it. "I'm from Kentucky, too," said Crittenden. The old soldier turned quickly. "I knew you were, sir." This was too much for Grafton. "Now-how-on-earth " and then he checked himself it was not his business. "You're a Crittenden." "That's right," laughed the Kentuckian. The Sergeant turned.
And Crittenden, too, was silent, and, as always, asked no questions. It was her secret; she did not wish him to know, and his trust was unfaltering. Besides, he had his secrets as well. He meant to tell her all some day, and she meant to tell him; but the hours were so full of sweet companionship that both forbore to throw the semblance of a shadow on the sunny days they spent together.
There was a day when he was near it; when he turned the same fresh, frank face fearlessly to the world, when his nature was as unspoiled and as clean, his hopes as high, and his faith as child-like; and once when he ran across a passage in Stevenson in which that gentle student spoke of his earlier and better self as his "little brother" whom he loved and longed for and sought persistently, but who dropped farther and farther behind at times, until, in moments of darkness, he sometimes feared that he might lose him forever Crittenden had clung to the phrase, and he had let his fancy lead him to regard this boy as his early and better self better far than he had ever been his little brother, in a double sense, who drew from him, besides the love of brother for brother and father for son, a tenderness that was almost maternal.
We're expecting a battle in a few days with Crittenden and Zollicoffer." "Not much to say," remarked Dick to Warner, as they went away. "That's true," said Warner, thoughtfully, "but didn't you get an impression of strength from his very silence? I should say that in his make-up he is five per cent talk, twenty-five per cent patience and seventy per cent action; total, one hundred per cent."
"State your name and occupation, please," said the State's attorney, advancing a few paces toward the witness stand. "My name is Crittenden Yollop. I am in the millinery business." The State: "Where do you reside?" Yollop: "418 Sagamore Terrace." The State: "In an apartment?" Yollop: "A little louder, if you please." The State, raising its voice: "Repeat the question, Mr. Stenographer."
"The 'Governor' told me," he said, "you couldn't do anything in this regiment that would do you more good with officers and men. That fellow has caused us more trouble than any other ten men in the regiment, and you are the first man yet to get the best of him. If the men could elect you, you'd be a lieutenant before to-morrow night." Crittenden laughed.
The enemy had sullenly resisted the progress of Crittenden and McCook throughout the preceding three days, and as it was thought probable that he might offer battle at Stewart's Creek, Thomas, in pursuance of his original instructions looking to just such a contingency, had now fallen into the centre by way of the Nolensville crossroads.
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