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Cunningham tells Miss Lloyd." "Let us go over to the Crawford house, and tell Miss Lloyd about it." "Not this morning; I've another engagement. And besides, the little lady won't get around so soon." "Why a little lady?" I asked, smiling. "Oh, the whole tone of the letter seems to imply a little yellow-haired butterfly of a woman." "Just the reverse of Florence Lloyd," I said musingly.
The son listened intently. "I bought that string of glass beads in good faith of a Chinaman Ling Foo. I consider them mine that is, if they are still in my possession. Between the hour I met you last night and the moment of Captain Dennison's entrance to my room considerable time had elapsed." "Sufficient for a rogue like Cunningham to make good use of," supplemented the prisoner in Cabin Two.
Politically, they hated Sir Michael Cunningham, but in society they were pleased enough to meet him, and in Greyshot, naturally enough, his son was a "lion." Greyshot made much of him during his stay at Blachingbury, and he found it very convenient just then to be made much of. Hardly a day of that week passed in which he did not in some way meet Erica.
Tannahill, like Cunningham in humble circumstances originally, never became more than a weaver. His verse has not the gusto of Allan or of Hogg, but is sweet and tender enough. He was a Conservative journalist, an antiquary of some mark, and a useful editor of Minstrelsy.
The body of the patriot had been deposited in this tomb of his father-in-law, the Nathaniel Cunningham just referred to, and had there reposed until the searching fibres of another order of life had found it out, and lifted and dispensed its sublimer part into the viewless air.
"I had it figured out so. If the woman hadn't come at him with that acid tongue of hers he'd intended to buy Hull off cheap. But she got his gorge up. He wouldn't stand for her line of talk." "What took place then?" the cattleman questioned. "Still without rising from the chair, Cunningham ordered them to get out. Hull was standin' kinda close to him. He had his back to me.
A reporter had interviewed Mr. and Mrs. Cass Hull, who occupied the apartment just below that of the murdered man. They had told him that a young man, a stranger to them, powerfully built and dressed like a prosperous ranchman, had knocked on their door about 9.20 to ask the way to the apartment of Cunningham.
The second convention for 1917 met in the Wayne county Court House, Goldsboro, Oct. 30, 31, Mrs. Cunningham presiding and speaking. Colonel Joseph E. Robinson and J. F. Barrett made addresses. The principal speaker was Mrs. Jacobs, then auditor of the National Association. A fine collection of suffrage literature was presented from Chief Justice Clark. During the year Mrs.
"Poetry, Painting, and Sculpture," says Cunningham, "are of the same high order of genius; but, as words provide at once shape and color to our thoughts, Poetry has ever led the way in the march of intellect: as material forms are ready made, and require but to be skillfully copied, Sculpture succeeded; and as lights and shadows demand science and experience to work them into shape, and endow them with sentiment, Painting was the last to rise into elegance and sublimity.
The funeral on the 25th was conducted by the Brotherhood of Free and Accepted Masons to which Mr. Otis belonged. The sepulture was made, as narrated in the first pages of this monograph, in the Cunningham tomb in the Old Granary Burying Ground. In that tomb, also was laid six years afterwards, the body of Ruth Cunningham Otis, his wife.
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