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Updated: June 24, 2025
"Don't you like being married, then?" "Ah, quit codding," said Willie. Whoever loved that loved not at first sight. "Love is a perfect fever of the mind. I question if any man has been more tormented with it than myself." JAMES BOSWELL, in a letter to the Rev. W. J. Temple. Mr. Cairnduff's friend, George Hinde, met John at Euston Station.
Dolly's dead set on playing an Irish girl, and of course, you being Irish and all that, you'd know the ropes!" "I'll think about it," said John. "Do. That's a good chap. And perhaps you can let me have the manuscript at the end of the week ... in the rough anyhow!" He finished his whiskey and soda. "Have another?" Hinde said. "No, thanks, no. You know. Mac, the stage is a funny place.
"What style of play do you want to do?" Hinde asked. "Good plays. Plays like Shakespeare wrote." Hinde looked at him quickly. "Oh, well," he said, "there's no harm in aiming high!" John told him of the book he had written at Ballyards, and of the story he had sent to Blackwood's Magazine. "I've a great ambition to do big things," he said. "There's no harm in that either," Hinde replied.
Sepulcher's parish, together with my best suit of apparel of a tawny color viz. hose, doublet jirkin and cloak," "also, my trunk bound with iron bars standing in the house of Richard Hinde in Lambeth, together with half the books therein"; the other half of the books to Mr. John Tredeskin and Richard Hinde.
"Why don't you put a chartered accountant on his track?" said Hinde when John told him of what Mr. Jannissary had said. John shrugged his shoulders. His experience with the Cottenham Repertory Theatre had cured him of all desire to send good money after bad. He wished now that he had taken Hinde's advice and had kept away from Mr. Jannissary, but it was useless to repine over that.
Thus he passed along, turning his head to and fro, yawning and gaping wide, with ougly demonstration of long teeth and glaring eyes; and to bidde us farewell, coming right against the 'Hinde, he sent forth a horrible voice, roaring and bellowing as doth a lion, which spectacle we all beheld so far as we were able to discern the same, as men prone to wonder at every strange thing.
"I don't want praise that I don't deserve," John said, thrusting out his lower lip. "Oh, you'll deserve it all right. Everybody deserves some praise. How's Eleanor?" "All right!" Then Hinde hurried away, and John went home. There was a letter from the Cottenham Repertory Theatre awaiting him, and he eagerly opened the envelope.
2 The Barke Raleigh set forth by M. Walter Raleigh, of the burthen of 200 tunnes, was then Vice-admirall: in which went M. Butler captaine, and Robert Dauis of Bristoll master. 3 The Golden hinde, of burthen 40 tunnes, was then Reare-admirall: in which went Edward Hayes captaine and owner, and William Cox of Limehouse master.
His mother's conversation, too, had been displeasing to him. She talked of Ballyards and of the shop all the time. She talked of the prosperity of the business and of the respect in which the MacDermotts were held in their town. Mr. Hinde had told her of the harsh conditions in which journalists and writers had to work, particularly the journalists.
"Of course, I'd like to think it's true, but!... I hope this isn't just logrolling!" He remembered how fiercely Hinde had described the back-scratching, high-minded poets who boomed each other in their papers. "I don't want to get praise that way," he thought, putting the paper back into his pocket. "I'll order half-a-dozen copies of the Herald when I get back from Cottenham.
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