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Updated: May 9, 2025
If he is wise, he will surely be able to unite all Ireland under him; save of course the fanatics of the north, who, however, can do nothing against the whole strength of the country, since Hamilton's little force, alone, has been sufficient to put down all opposition, save where they remain shut up behind the walls of Derry and Enniskillen.
He stumbled back, his mouth agape with fear. The long barrel of Hamilton's revolver rested coldly on his bare stomach. "We will have a fire," said Hamilton, and spoke to his sergeant in Arabic. "Here in the centre of the city we will make a fire of proud shields and unlawful spears."
"For anything else?" and he looked at Eric's dejected face. "Nothing else," I put in hastily, fearing one of Hamilton's outbreaks. "We've been completely off the track, might better have stayed in the north " "No, you mightn't, not by any means," was his sharp retort. "I've been in the Sioux lodges for three weeks." With an inarticulate cry, Hamilton sprang to his feet.
If you still prefer your mother's home, never, never shall you go from me. Be comforted, my Emmeline, do not weep thus. Will you not trust me? If you cannot love, you shall not marry." "But, my father oh, mamma, will he too promise me this?" "Yes, love; doubt him not," and a smile so cheering, so happy, was round Mrs. Hamilton's lips as she spoke, that Emmeline unconsciously felt relieved.
Wetenhall: she was visibly pining away, when, through fear of dying either with solitude or of want, she had recourse to Miss Hamilton's commiseration. Their first acquaintance was formed at Paris, whither Mr.
It seemed fitting that Duncan Polite should have found a harbour in the shelter of his Zion, the place that had been the centre of all his hopes. They covered the quiet, peaceful face and carried him very tenderly, Peter McNabb and Andrew Johnstone and some of his other lifelong friends, into John Hamilton's house. They laid him in the darkened sitting-room, and Mrs.
He says he's lookin' for an openin'. An' I reckons he is, for at the end of a week he slaps up a joint outen tent-cloth an' fence-boards, an' opens a dance-hall squar' ag'inst Jim Hamilton's which is already thar.
But always they were full of the hero-worship of the little child for the big, strong, American fighting-man; and in every letter, sometimes in the beginning, sometimes at the end, occasionally in both places, as the enthusiasm of the writer waxed, was the satisfying assurance, "I am your boy." Hamilton's eyes raced over the little pages till he found that line, and there rested contentedly.
"'Tis no news to me," said Terence, stamping his feet on the flinty ground; "wasn't it Davy that pointed him out to us and the hair liftin' from his head six months since?" "Und you like schwimmin', yes?" said Swein Poulsson, his face like the rising sun with the cold. "Swimmin', is it?" said Terence, "sure, the divil made worse things than wather. And Hamilton's beyant."
It commenced with Hamilton's visit to Keswick; and on the first evening, when the poet met the young mathematician, an incident occurred which showed the mutual interest that was aroused. Hamilton thus describes it in a letter to his sister Eliza: Harrison good-night, I offered to walk back with him while my party proceeded to the hotel.
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