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"The accident happened in Dover Street. Rory had strayed into the gutter after some tempting morsel she had espied there, and a dashing hansom had bowled her over. She lay yelping and howling and pitying herself intensely. My companion and I succeeded in dragging her into a baker's shop, where she was shown every kindness and consideration, and then we drove home in a four-wheeler.
Give me your bridle, and take Mary on your back." As we went on, I related how I had seen the man reclining under the tree; and Rory nodded forgivingly when I explained the scruple which had withheld me from making my presence known.
Well, 'earth' manes 'land'; an' it's all as wan as if He said, 'shed on the land. An' what land? Why, the Holy Land. An' the praphets lived there when the Fall was quite racent; an' hear what they say: " "Rory, you're a marvel," I remarked with sincerity.
You know, I have settled with you. Fins. Yes, my lord yes. Many thanks: and I have left your lordship's dress here, and everybody's dress, I believe, as bespoke. Burs. Here, Finsbury, is the money for Wheeler, who, between you and me, is as poor as a rat. Well, I hope I shall be as rich as a Jew to-morrow. Fins. A thousand thanks for all favours. Rory. You will be kind enough to LAVE Mr.
In the energy of his pursuit, he had overcome even the Highland obstinacy of Rory Bean, and compelled that self-willed palfrey to canter the way his rider chose; which Rory, however, performed with all the symptoms of reluctance, turning his head, and accompanying every bound he made in advance with a sidelong motion, which indicated his extreme wish to turn round, a manoeuvre which nothing but the constant exercise of the Laird's heels and cudgel could possibly have counteracted.
He was especially opposed to the introduction of those "new-fangled ranting" tunes which were being taught the young people by John "Alec" Fraser in the weekly singing-school in the Nineteenth, and which were sung at Mrs. Murray's Sabbath evening Bible class in the Little Church. Straight Rory had been educated for a teacher in Scotland, and was something of a scholar.
If you enjoyed her confidence, as Aunt Mary did, she would tell you of her own accord who gave their servants enough to eat, and who didn't. Anne Rory was a sort of inquisition all by herself, and would have made a valuable chief of police.
"And there was one old blackcock." "That blackcock! There are serious doubts whether it is a phantom bird, or whether Rory keeps it tame as a decoy. You didn't kill it?" "No." "If you had, you might have boasted of an achievement," said Allen. "The spell would have been destroyed," added Jock. "But you did not let him finish. Did you say you saw the blackcock?"
For some reason or other he was thrown into one of the dungeons of the old fort at St. Augustine, where he was confined for five years. When released, his health was broken, and it was with great difficulty that he managed to return to Sumter District, in South Carolina, where his wife lived. A very queer and eccentric character in the Revolution was Captain Rory Mcintosh, of Mallow.
"Black Rory" was as lively as ever, and seemed determined to run away and dash everything to pieces as they started out from his stable, but calmed down again after a mile or two, as usual, and trotted along amiably enough the rest of his distance.
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