United States or Martinique ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


"Do you think then sir, that pork is no good agin the sickness? Mickey, that's my husband, sir, says it's the only thing in life for it, av it's toasted." "Not the least use, I assure you." "Nor sperits and wather?" "Worse and worse, ma'am." "Oh, thin, maybe oaten mail tay would do? it's a beautiful thing for the stomick, any how." "Rank poison on the present occasion, believe me."

The presence of a trail in that part of the world implied that it was one made and traveled by Indians, who were likely to be encountered at any moment, and Mickey was not insensible to the peril. But, in the present instance, there seemed to be no other means of getting along, and thus, in one sense, they were forced into it.

From the very depths of despair, Mickey O'Rooney and Fred Munson were lifted to the most buoyant heights of hope. "I always took yer for a hoodlum," growled the scout; "but you've just showed yerself a bigger one than I s'posed. Yer orter fetched a lantern with yer, so as to use nights in walking round the country, and looking for folks."

Sure, it's my father's son ought to hate the sight of you." "I hope, Mike, your father never trusted his property in such hands?" "I don't suspect he did, your honor. He never put much belief in the banks; but the house cost him dear enough without that." As I could not help feeling some curiosity in this matter, I pressed Mickey for an explanation.

I stopped to listen, and soon detected in one of the speakers my friend Mickey Free; of the other I was not long in ignorance. "Love you, is it, bathershin? It's worship you, adore you, my darling, that's the word! There, acushla, don't cry; dry your eyes Oh, murther, it's a cruel thing to tear one's self away from the best of living, with the run of the house in drink and kissing!

The trapper peering cautiously down the gulch, caught sight of several red-skins crouching near the cave, and, directing young Brainerd to discharge his piece at a certain one, the two fired nearly together. Scarce five seconds had elapsed, when both Ethan and Mickey did the same.

Time was when I didn't care for a canter of ten or fifteen miles in the morning no more than yourself; and that's no small boast; God forgive me, but I never see that clover-field where you pounded the Englishman, without swearing there never was a leap made before or since. Is this Mickey, Captain? Faith, and it's a fine, brown, hearty-looking chap you're grown, Mickey.

Fred applied his ear as before. Yes; some one was climbing up the rope again. It is proper, at this point, to introduce some history of the movements of Mickey O'Rooney, after the separation between himself and his young friend.

If we didn't pay any attention to it, they would think that neither of us was on the look-out, and they would send some others down to scalp us." "Be the powers, me laddy, I b'lave ye are right!" exclaimed Mickey, admiringly. "That's just the plan of the spalpeens, by which towken, I'll tip him a shot." With this he raised his rifle, and, sighting rather carelessly, fired.

Not many years ago there lived at Glena, the loveliest spot in all Killarney, a small farmer, by the name of Mickey, or Michael More, his wife, and one daughter. Though Mickey was a poor, hard-working man, he boasted that he was descended from a regular Irish chieftain, the great MacCarty-Mor, and held his head up accordingly.