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Updated: May 24, 2025
It is understood that this gentleman was born about 1823, and died in 1892. On coming into property, as I have heard, in the west of England, he took the name of Cory, So that he is doubly concealed as a poet, the anonymous-pseudonymous. As Mr. William Cory he wrote history, but there is but slight trace there of the author of Ionica.
A child will often resist the latter lest it should make him uncomfortable or appeal to his personal sense of responsibility: it is often not in his power to resist the former, because it has taken possession of him before he is aware of it. As a concrete example, I offer three verses from a poem entitled, "A Ballad for a Boy," written some twelve years ago by W. Cory, an Eton master.
Then I got him in a corner and told him that you hadn't meant any harm which is always true of you, poor woman! and I didn't leave him till he had promised me to forgive you if you would come and ask him. And you must keep him out of Cory's way until I can arrange to have him Cory, I mean sent out of town. Will you?" "Why, cert'nly," she answered, smiling.
There, too, was the venerable Giles Cory, who had been pressed to death, not for pleading guilty, nor yet for pleading not guilty, but for declining to plead at all.
It was some days later that we learned that Alexander and Cory and a devoted few had held on to the trenches at the northeast angle of the village, although surrounded all that night and part of the next day, Sunday. On Sunday morning the British troops about daylight launched an attack to recover St. Julien.
Again she bent over and kissed him: "How are things to-day, dear? any better?" she inquired in a quavering voice. "Some of them are better and some are worse, Cory; but there's nothing for you to worry about. That's what I've been telling Jack. How's baby? Anybody been here from the board? Any letters?" "Baby's all right," the words came slowly, as if all utterance gave her pain.
The Boarder had received a "raise"; Lily Rose was spending her leisure time in fashioning tiny garments which she told Cory were for a doll baby; Iry was wearing his first trousers cut over from a pair discarded by Bud; and Amarilly was acquiring book lore with an ease and rapidity which delighted Miss Varley and Derry. Through the medium of Mr.
For this purpose provisions for twenty-one days were sent ashore, the prisoners, after being paroled, following. The remainder of the day was spent in transferring provisions, &c., for ship's use. The next evening the prizes, the Louisa Hatch and Kate Cory, slipped cables, and stood seaward. When about five miles from land both vessels were set fire to; Mr.
Why, it ain't my birthday, it's Granny's." Nevertheless, she had her arms full of them and was clutching them so tightly with her work-worn little hands that we couldn't get them. She sobbed so deeply that Grandma heard her and became alarmed. She hobbled to the door and pounded with her poor twisted hands, calling all the while, "Cory, Cory Belle, what ails you?"
"Listen that's baby crying! Better go to her, Cory." Garry waited until his wife had left the room, then he rose from, his chair, crossed to the sideboard, poured out three-quarters of a glass of raw whiskey and drank it without drawing a breath. "That's the first to-day, Jack. I dare not touch it when I'm on a strain like this. Can't think clearly, and I want my head, all of it.
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