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Updated: May 22, 2025
When I first heard of your coming to Ballymoy, I didn't know that you were Miss King's uncle. I only found that out yesterday." "That makes things worse than ever," said the judge. "I was beginning dimly to understand some of your actions before you told me that. Now I'm utterly and completely at sea.
"Is he the sort of man who'd put himself about a great deal and take a lot of trouble for the sake of doing a good turn to a friend? Do you think, for instance, that he'd indulge in all sorts of elaborate practical jokes with a view to frightening me out of Ballymoy, if he thought my presence here was likely to interfere with any plan that his friend Major Kent might have very much at heart?"
All public meetings were advertised there. Doyle himself made nothing out of these advertisements; but Thady Gallagher did. He printed the posters, and it was admitted by everyone that he did it very well. Two days after his arrival in Ballymoy, Mr. Billing strolled down to the harbour. He was a man of restless and energetic disposition, but the visits which he received from Dr.
You'd say it yourself, Thady Gallagher if so be you'd heard the way he was talking. 'Is there a live man in the place at all? says he, meaning Ballymoy. 'It's waking up you want. says he." "Did he? The devil take him," said Gallagher. "'And I've a good mind to try and wake you up myself, said he. 'I'm reckoned middling good at waking people up where I come from, says he."
I don't think I mentioned to you that the judge's obstinacy was by no means the worst part of it." "Oh! So you attacked some one else besides the judge." "I don't know whether attacking is quite the right word to use. I called in on my way home at the gate lodge of Ballymoy House. That fellow Callaghan lives there, you know." "Yes. Did you urge him to lie in wait for the judge and shoot at him?"
She flashed before him, an Apocalyptic angel, splended and terrible, trumpet-calling him to the last great fight. He forgot in an instant the Quinns and their trouble. The years of quietness in Ballymoy, the daily intercourse with gentle people, the atmosphere of the religion in which he had lived, fell away from him suddenly.
O'Grady, "for I've had a man looking up all that's known about General John Regan in the National Library in Dublin." At the very bottom of the main street of Ballymoy, close to the little harbour where the fishing boats nestled together in stormy weather, there is a disused mill. Corn was ground in it long ago.
It's a wretched hole of a place. I don't advise you to stop there long." "I'm not staying there at all. I'm driving straight on to Ballymoy." "If you're at all familiar with Ballymoy, I expect you've heard of me. My name's Meldon, the Reverend J. J. Meldon, B.A. I was curate of Ballymoy once, and everybody who was there in my time will be talking about me still.
"You couldn't possibly have come to a better place." Dr. O'Grady was not a literary man, but he had an idea that people who write books seek out quiet places in which they are not likely to be over excited while engaged in their trying work. Ballymoy seemed to him a suitable place for anyone engaged in writing a biography. "It surprises me some," said Mr.
He hinted that the people of Ballymoy would be quite satisfied if the statue stood for twenty-four hours. The weather was exceptionally fine and calm. There was no reason if the unveiling were carefully done why Doyle's cement should be subjected to any strain whatever. At nine o'clock on the morning of the Lord-Lieutenant's visit, Dr.
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