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Updated: June 5, 2025
She's back somewhere with little Christian Lowry and young Coppinger." "What sort of a lad is that?" asked Mr. Hallinan. "Is he as big a pup as them young Lowrys?" "Ah, they're not so bad altogether," said Dr. Mangan, indulgently. "Young sprigs like them are none the worse for a little tashpy, as the people say!"
Blaine's Eulogy on the Deceased President Attacks on the Administration Daily Life of the President The Star-Route Trials. Mary Walker Senator Hoar's Welcome Dinner to Mr. Justice Gray President Arthur's Dinner in Honor of General and Mrs. Grant The Guests and what the Ladies Wore Mr. Blaine's New Home Marriage of Colonel Coppinger to Miss Blaine.
Bill's just about mad enough for the asylum by this time!" he thought "If we could only catch this lad!" But this particular "lad" was not to gratify young Mr. Coppinger by dying, classically, in the open, "on the top of the ground."
Meeking said little. The prisoners, he observed, addressing the bench in quiet, conversational tones, were charged, Krevin Crood with the actual murder of the late Mayor, John Wallingford; Simon, with being accessory to the fact, and, if they had not absconded during the previous twenty-four hours, two other well-known residents of the borough, Stephen Mallett and James Coppinger, would have stood in the dock with Simon Crood, similarly charged.
"Then, if Wallingford's reforms had been carried out, Krevin Crood would have lost £150 a year?" "He would have lost £300 a year. Wallingford's scheme included the utter abolition of all these Town Trustee-created pensions and doles. Lock, stock and barrel, they were all to go." "And the Town Trustees Crood, Mallett, Coppinger were fully acquainted with his intentions and those of his party?"
"Master Larry's coming home from Cluhir tomorrow, Mary," Miss Coppinger announced, with satisfaction, to the peculiar confection of grey hair and black chenille net that represented the back of Mrs. Twomey's head, her forehead being pressed against the side of the cow that she was milking. "Thang-aade!" replied Mrs.
Coppinger," Father David began, the kindly little blue eyes twinkling deep in his red face, confirming the assurance imparted by his extensive smile, that his friendship was still unshaken, "You've been missing some nice hunts." "I've been too hard worked to get out, Father," apologised Larry. "Ah, otherwise engaged, maybe?" said Father David, with a facetious stress on the word engaged.
He rang the bell, and learnt that the hour was nearly eleven. "I have slept well," he said in his Anglo-French. "I am hungry. Bring me hot water. And find out, if you can, where lives Mrs. Coppinger. I couldn't remember the name last night Mrs. Coppinger." In half an hour he was downstairs. The English lady for whom he inquired lived, they told him, outside St.
Dick was of the happy temperament that believes in the exclusive immortality of his own charms, and he was now enjoying his conversation with his cousin none the less for the discovery that Miss Coppinger, who was younger than he, had preserved her youth very much less successfully than he had done.
Now Coppinger was only an hotel acquaintance, and as I was up to the eyes in work when I got back to England, I'm afraid I didn't think very much more about him at the time. One doesn't with people one just meets casually abroad like that.
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