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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Oh," cried Terry, "I've broken my pony's knees, and I can't ride him, and I couldn't see the way to Connolly's farm, and even if I did now I don't know how to get there with Jocko!" "Connolly's farm! Would it be Mike Connolly Mac you would be lookin' for?" "Oh, I suppose it is!" said Terry. "I only just heard it called Connolly's farm.
And I tried to get to Connolly's, and I didn't want Jocko to be hurt." "It isn't the least use talking to you," said Nancy; "but I've another punishment for you. I've been talking to Madam about your practising, and you've got to begin to it. I told her you'd be forgettin' all your music, and she said you'd betther go to it afther breakfast this very mornin'."
"What's to be done? They've come to rush the Flat again; but, by thunder! I'll be a stiff 'un afore a Chow fills another dish with wash-dirt on Connolly's Creek." "And me, too!"
The street was covered with grey ash that was still hot, and one had to walk warily lest one's feet should be burnt. The Post Office still stood, but the roof was gone and the inside of it was empty: a hulk, a disembowelled carcase.... "MacDonagh and Pearse and Connolly have been taken," said Lander. "They say Connolly's badly wounded...." "Have you heard anything of ... of John Marsh?" "Yes.
But in a moment the cloud lifted from his brow, a quick smile stirred under his yellow moustache, and his eyes brightened, for a waiter handed him a letter. It lay, address uppermost, on the salver, and bore the Ballydoon postmark, and the handwriting was the disjointed scrawl which he had often ridiculed, but now welcomed as Jack Connolly's.
There were also a fat house dog, and a brace of plump pussies, for the Connollys were a plump and comfortable couple who wanted everything about them comfortable, and who had had little to worry them until the coming of the war. Yet even the war could not shake Mrs. Connolly's faith in the rightness of things. "I was glad to have our country get into it, and to have my sons go.
Henry F. Taintor, the auditor employed by Andrew H. Green to investigate Controller Connolly's books, testified before the special Aldermanic Committee in 1877, that he had estimated the frauds during those three and a half years at from $45,000,000 to $50,000,000.
Doubtless they will give you much more than I can," I faltered. "There isn't any danger of your duplicating Doctor Connolly's information," said His Excellency sharply. "His Excellency desires to learn those odds and ends which wouldn't be included in an official report, but which may throw some light on the whole situation," added the colonel, his gaze resting on me very insistently.
Tweed, Sweeny, and Hall, now alarmed by the disclosures in the Times, decided to make Connolly the scapegoat, and asked the aldermen and supervisors to appoint a committee to examine his accounts. By the time the committee appeared for the examination its purpose had been well announced the vouchers for 1869 and 1870 had disappeared. Mayor Hall then asked for Connolly's resignation.
It was no heavier I think though of much different complexion than the list Captain Swope had planned. As for wounded God's truth, the Golden Bough was manned by a crew of cripples for weeks after. Lynch had wrought terribly, there on the main deck broken pates, broken fingers, a cracked wrist, a broken foot, and three men wounded, though not seriously, by Swope's and Connolly's shots.
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