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Updated: June 27, 2025
He may not think he hears it, but he does, only instead of being distracting it is stimulating. It's all a part of the mechanism of the shop, helping him along unconsciously to speed and efficiency. I've often thought that, when I was handling a good, bloody murder story, say, it would tone up my style to have a phonograph about ten feet away grinding out The Last Ravings of John McCullough.
Hardy, carefully hanging up his spotless, glossy equipment at the head of his cot, turned to the farrier who was likewise engaged in arranging a bridle and a pipe-clayed headrope. "Wot abaht it, Mac?" he queried briskly. McCullough, in turn looked at Redmond. "All right!" responded that young gentleman with a boyish shrug and grin, "come on then, you bloomin' old sponges! let's wet my transfer.
Then, as their eyes met, those two worthies seemed to experience a difficulty of articulation. Dumfounded himself, George looked from one to the other, "What the devil's wrong with you fools?" he queried irritably. Thereupon, McCullough, still holding the eyes of the Cockney, gasped out one magical word "Yorkey!" The spell was broken.
"I don't think!" he concluded sotto voce to Davis, as that individual, sitting down on the next cot began preparing his wounded arm for the ministrations of Sister Marthe who had just entered the ward. "No use!" McCullough rambled on. "I tell yu' th' man's as good as 'gone up. Harry. . . . Well! I'll have old Kissiwasti when he pegs out anyway. I won't half smoke-dry th' old beggar then!
"Since freedum I'se hired out, washed en cooked fer diff'ent peeple. De only song I member: 'Hark Fum de Ground dis Mournful Sound." INTERVIEW JULIA CASEY 811 9th Avenue, So. Nashville, Tennessee I wuz bawn in West Tennessee en wuz six y'ars ole w'en war broke out. Mah Missis wuz Miss Jennie McCullough en she ma'ried Eldridge Casey.
By the grate, Dennis McCullough held the baby in his arms with all the care one uses towards a treasure long withheld. His drawn white face was close to the dimpled cheeks. The rank and file of the Belfastians, then, are joining the priests, co-operationists, labor unionists and Sinn Feiners in their fight for self-determination.
And then he had told of the last time: before his last arrest he had taken great care not to provoke the authorities because Mrs. McCullough was about to give birth to her first child; but one evening when the couple and friends were seated about a quiet Sunday evening tea table, six constables entered and hurried him off to jail without even presenting a warrant. It was at this point that Mrs.
Mary Saffard, Jane Addams, Katharine Waugh McCullough, Ella Stewart, Mrs. Mary Wood Swift, Mrs. Mary S. Sperry, Mary Cogshall, Florence Kelly, Mrs. Ogden Mills Reid and Mrs. Clara B. Arthur, Rev. Caroline Bartlett Crane, Mrs. James Lees Laidlaw, Mrs. Raymond Brown, the splendidly executive president of our New York State Suffrage Association, and my benefactress, Mrs.
In four hours at the Pea Ridge battle, where he lay behind a log, on a hill commanding the flat where the Confederates were formed, he is said to have killed thirty-five men, one of them the Confederate General McCullough. It was like shooting buffalo for him. He was charged by a company of the enemy, but was rescued by his own men.
Cass, President of the Fort Wayne Railroad, and J. N. McCullough, of the same and of the Cleveland and Pittsburgh Railroad, are heavily interested in the road connections adverted to above. At Fulton, three miles below Clinton, is another coal company in which Mr. Rhodes is interested.
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