Like all plantations, during Americas slave period, the Big A had its share of secrets. And as Mr. Arnold went on believing old Mae (his oldest and best picker) was oblivious to his little secret old Mae had a few secrets of her own, which left the wealthy plantation owner clueless to what would be his own undoing yet old Mae couldnt hold a candle to Pleasant, who stayed royally humble, as he went about helping everyone around him. But not even Ella knew what Duval took to the battle field with him. And while Clora Lee and Cowayne held more secrets than anyone could count, Sistah often kept the two young adventure seekers off balance, with her double life. Yet the secret, the Arnolds oldest daughter held close to her chest, was sure to come to light one day. And as the Big A slowly fell into ruins, it collapsed on one last secret, the old plan-tation hoped to keep hidden for all eternity...
CHAPTER I Monday Jeazel Pete is at it again. The investigation into the death of a local undercover agent continues. Wildfires are ravaging the west. The Vice Presidents ahead in the latest polls. And it looks like its going to be clear for the weekend, the TV announcer said although nobody was really listening as the sound softly filled the almost empty hotel lobby. Well be back in two minutes with the details here on WKYT-27, he continued. I glanced down from the TV perched on the wall as the commercial began. What channel is that in the room I asked the receptionist as I glanced at her name tag adding Debbie? Thats channel eight, sir. OK. I want to catch the weather. $52.25 is your change and heres your key. Have you ever stayed here before, sir, she asked with a smile. I nodded in the affirmative and she continued. Well good, youre in room 315, which is in the first building on the right when you come into the parking lot, its the one next to the indoor pool. Check out is 12 noon. Enjoy your stay at the Cumberland Inn. I counted out my change like a miser and then picked up the key-card from the counter top. Thanks I said as I turned and walked out to the parking lot. As I glanced around I thought, man, this is a nice place, much nicer than I remembered. Double spiral staircase, baby granddont touch the keys, an elegant portrait of the founders, looking stately in their golden years, hung over the fireplace which had a mantle that mustve been over a hundred and fifty years old. Upon the tables, strategically placed around the lobby, were books which had equally elegant, multi-colored bindings, all with a look of age that said, Ive been here a while. I dont know how I missed all this stuff the other times I had been here. But that was work and I was always in a hurry to check in and get to my room. As I walked through the double set of glass doors I saw a grounds keeper standing by my 85 Nissan pick up. He turned and looked at me and said, Good Afternoon. Afternoonuh, Doug, I returned, glancing at his nametag. I was just admiring your bumper stickers, youre sure getting around, he said motioning to the tailgate of my truck with his eyes and a slight movement of his head. They look kinda new. On my tailgate were 11 bumper stickers indicating that I was a tourist. Some placed horizontally, some vertically and others at angles. The stickers appear to be placed haphazardly, but there is a grand plan to this madness. Yeah, I chuckled. Im doing some sightseeing and I want to see if I can cover the whole tailgate before I head back home. That wasnt quite the truth, but he would never know. He chuckled like he understood why I was doing it, but I could tell he didnt share my enthusiasm for my effort. Weve got some in the lobby, do you want me to get you one? Sure, I didnt even see em in there, I said. I was too taken in by the setting. Man, this is a pretty nice place, especially for being so far in the middle of nowhere. Whats the scoop here anyway? Well, its actually owned by the college, Cumberland College that is, and one of the main focuses of the college is accommodation and comfort management. Hotel/motel management, you know, he said like I was having trouble understanding his meaning. Most of the people working here are students working through the summer and getting some extra credits to boot. Thats pretty cool. I said as I nodded my head and looked him in the eye. Let me get that sticker for you. He turned to walk into the lobby. I glanced at my watch and I thought about how badly I just wanted to get to my room. After what seemed like an hour Doug came struggling through the heavy glass doors. That door is tough, he mumbled as he came through and walked up to the back of my truck where I waited for him. Weve got two of them, take your pick. Gimme the one the says CUMBERLAND INN KENTUCKY As he peeled the back off he asked, Any place particular? Yeah, right under the one for Niagara, up and down I replied. I knew that he had no idea what pattern I was trying to achieve, but the way he said it, I sensed that he knew there was an underlying plan to this random disorder. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wad of change from Debbie. From the crumpled bills I fished out the two one dollar bills and tried to iron out the wrinkles with my hand by pulling the bills, one at a time, through my first two fingers. After three or four swipes of each bill I handed then to Doug saying, Thanks. No, thanks, Doug said with a tone of genuine wholesomeness. I just had a feeling he was a country boy. But, I also sensed that he was a little embarrassed to take my gratuity. Hey man, if you are going to make your career in the accommodation and comfort management business youd better get use to accepting tips. Thats part of the fringe benefits of the profession, the perks, you know, I said as I looked at him trying to get him to take the money from my extended hand. I didnt want to make the kid feel bad, but I did want him to accept this tip. Thanks, he said as he finally relented and accepted my money. It seemed like this was a big step for him. I could just imagine him being raised as a Boy Scout doing a good deed every day, running to the mailbox for his grandmother, helping a neighbor with farm chores, or shoveling the sidewalk and driveway for some unfortunate who could not do for themselves and getting the good feeling that comes from helping others in need. And here I was trying to force him to surrender that instilled kindness for a few measly bucks. Im Doug Chaster. If you need anything just let me know. He took the bills and stuffed them into his pocket without even counting them, or even looking at them. OK, Doug, I said as I opened the truck door and sat behind the wheel. Through the opened window I said, Ill be here for a few days, so Ill see you around. As I pulled out of the loading zone I heard a faint Have a nice day, coming from Doug. I glanced at him and waved briefly saying, Thanks! Thats one expression I hate. Half the time the sentiment seems false and, frankly, I dont know what to say in response. I dont feel right saying, Have a nice day, because I dont know most of the people who say it to me, and frankly, I dont care if they have a nice day or not. The people that I know dont say that to each other. Usually the best I can get out in response is a feeble, You, too. I slowly pulled through the parking lot looking at the rooms listed on the plaques located above each buildings entryway. That was easy, but considering there are only two buildings it shouldnt have been that hard. I pulled into a parking spot that was isolated from the other four cars parked at that end of the parking lot. I glanced at my watch as I opened the truck door. That little encounter with Doug may have caused me to miss the weather on TV. I grabbed the straps to the two duffel bags in the king cab area of the truck. Pulling and tugging on them I struggled to squeeze them through the gap between the drivers seat and the door opening. They popped through and hit the blacktop with a small thud. I positioned the straps so that I could pick them up, sling them over my shoulder and have a free hand to pick up the zippered canvas bag I had in the bed of the truck.
First Published in 1963 A Guide to the Plays of Bernard Shaw is a descriptive and critical account of Bernard Shaw’s work as a playwright. The leading ideas contained in the plays are discussed because they are relevant to the work of the dramatist, and the author has also commented on their original production as they were mostly done under Shaw’s direction. Author argues that if Shaw were to be reincarnated as a dramatic critic he would only too often be as scathing of the treatment of his plays upon the stage today as was G.B.S. when writing of the Shakespeare productions in the London theatre. This book is a must read for students of English literature.
A landmark illustrated history of rural church monuments - the forgotten national treasures of England and Wales Deep in the countryside, away from metropolitan abbeys and cathedrals, thousands of funerary monuments are hidden in parish churches. These artworks - medieval brasses and elegant marble effigies, stone tomb chests and grand mausoleums - are of great historical and cultural significance, but have, due to their relative inaccessibility, faded from accounts of our art history. Over twenty-five years, C. B. Newham FSA has visited and photographed more than eight thousand rural churches, cataloguing the monumental sculptures encountered on his quest. In Country Church Monuments, he presents 365 of the very best, each accompanied by detailed photographs, biographies of both the deceased and their sculptors and a wealth of contextual material. Many of these works commemorate famous historical figures, from scheming Tudor courtier Richard Rich to Victorian prime minister William Ewart Gladstone. But more moving are the countless others - minor aristocrats, small-time industrialists, much-loved mothers, fathers and children - who, if not for their memorials, would wholly be lost to time. As Newham blows the dust off these artworks and breathes life into the stories they tell, a new aesthetic history of rural England and Wales emerges. Country Church Monuments is a poignant record of the art we make at the borders of life and death, of our ceaseless human striving for eternity.
Carl Martin lived his entire life in the search for love after a tragedy forced him to leave his home and family at the young age of 17; hiding in the military for almost 30 years. Only on the day of his death does he realize that love had finally found him. The family he knew and loved had changed immensely as they, too, were forced to run from that terrible night. They ran from the family farm in Bourbon County, Kentucky, a former plantation, and they left the roots of their religion as they tried to assume a new name, career, and life in Boone County where they each lived their own tragic searches for love. Upon reuniting, Carl sacrifices his new wife and children in an attempt to reconcile his broken family. With great effort he tries to let go of this life and go to the next, the passage through the white light, and only the arrival of the helper, the purest and most love filled soul, can bring an end to his struggles.
Ghosts, specters, and spooksoh my! These scary, creepy, spine-chilling, and thrilling tales will turn Halloween into a real fright nightbut theyre also great any time a kid craves a little hair-raising amusement. With more than 350 pages, there are plenty of otherwordly shivers to please any daring and wide-eyed young reader.
The Old Catholic movement is the best kept secret in Christendom. The fact that there is a valid (if "illicit") form of catholicism that is independent of Rome and which values local control seems scandalous to some and a cause for delight or even relief in others. The Old Catholic churches have branches-both official and unofficial-all over the world. They constitute one of the most interesting and diverse movements in Christian history, a movement worthy of greater visibility and academic attention. Here is the story of this unlikely legacy, from its beginnings in the fourteenth century through 1977-now back in print after twenty-eight years from Apocryphile Press.
Volume Two of General Bell’s memoirs begins with his journey back to Britain from India, stopping on the way at St. Helena to pay his respects at the tomb of Napoleon. He is then posted to Canada, taking part in putting down a rebellion led by republican Canadians, and his further travels lead him back to Europe via the United States. His reminiscences form a travelogue with a military slant, capturing the environs and habits of the populations with a delicate piquancy. Frustrated by court intrigue and influence stunting his further advancement in the service, in peacetime circumstances he would have been stuck with dismal prospects for the future. Many years after his baptism of fire in the Napoleonic Wars, he is posted as part of the British expeditionary force under Lord Raglan to the Crimea. Despite horrific conditions, he leads his men in the battles of Alma and Inkerman. His commentary of the daily life in the trenches recalls the slough of despond of the First World War: the mud, blood, shelling and disease are recalled along with the scarcity of supplies. Infuriated by the blundering politicians, Bell writes a passionate letter to the Times, which (although truthful) does nothing to help his advancement. By a stroke of luck he is plucked from his pestilent surroundings by a staff posting offered by an old comrade. As he recovers his health, he travels once more to Canada and to the United States, just at the turn of the Civil War, meeting such luminaries as General McClellan and General Scott. He briefly meets with the great Lincoln who he describes as “thin and wiry...very kind and familiar in his manner to all, but a very commonplace-looking man”. As with his first volume, Bell maintains his narrative with wit and verve, not without a few passing shots at his particular gripes, the Army hierarchy and Roman Catholicism. Author – Major-General George Bell C.B. – (1794 - 1877)
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