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Updated: May 12, 2025
He was somewhat pleased, but not at all abashed, by this attention; and one night, in the midst of his famous performance of "Billy Keogh," I saw him spin half round in a pirouette and throw an audacious wink to an old gentleman above. This was the more characteristic, as, for all his daffing, he was a modest and very polite little fellow among ourselves.
Keogh against the head of Cardinal Troy, shoot twenty of the most noisy blockheads of the Roman persuasion, wash his pug-dogs in holy water, and confiscate the salt butter of the Milesian Republic to the last tub? But what matters this? or who is wise enough in Ireland to heed it? or when had common sense much influence with my poor dear Irish? Mr.
Two men had come out of the Poor Law Dispensary opposite, in which the Sinn Feiners were installed. So covered with dust were they that he thought both were in khaki. One was a military cadet who had been captured by the Sinn Feiners, the other was the Sinn Fein leader De Valera. "Hullo!" cried De Valera. "Who are you?" replied Dr. Keogh.
Like a coquettish pigeon the little boat tacked on its eccentric way until at last its white sail was lost to sight against the larger bulk of the fruiter's side. "That's old H. P. Mellinger," explained Keogh, dropping back into his chair. "He's going back to New York. He was private secretary of the late hot-foot president of this grocery and fruit stand that they call a country.
Keogh sat in the other half of the doorway, and carefully perused the telegram. "'Tis not a cipher," he said, finally. "'Tis what they call literature, and that's a system of language put in the mouths of people that they've never been introduced to by writers of imagination.
Zavalla, and start a man up the trail to cut the telegraph wire." As Goodwin rose, Keogh threw his hat upon the grass by the door and expelled a tremendous sigh. "What's the trouble, Billy?" asked Goodwin, pausing. "That's the first time I ever heard you sigh." "'Tis the last," said Keogh. "With that sorrowful puff of wind I resign myself to a life of praiseworthy but harassing honesty.
Chief Joseph was marching on, north, in a great half circle. Somebody else must head him off. General Howard sent a dispatch to Colonel Miles. "The Nez Percés have left us hopelessly in the rear. Will you take action to intercept them?" From Fort Keogh on the Yellowstone, one hundred and fifty miles eastward, Colonel Miles sallied out. It was a relay race by the white chiefs.
Keogh on a message, when Theresa herself came in. Denis jumped up quickly, saying: "Ah, Theresa, it's a great while since I've seen you." But Theresa only lifted her head without turning it, and walked straight on as if nobody had accosted her. "Arrah, now, Theresa darlint, don't you see Denis O'Meara?" said her mother, puzzled and rather dismayed. And then Theresa did turn and look at him.
I take the long end; but I like to have at least as good a chance to win as a man learning to play poker on an ocean steamer, or running for governor of Texas on the Republican ticket. And when I cash in my winnings, I don't want to find any widows' and orphans' chips in my stack." The grass-grown globe was the green table on which Keogh gambled. The games he played were of his own invention.
When Keogh and I met in the morning he would say, with admirable imitation of Horsman's manner, 'Well, it is all settled; the Viceroy has considered the question, and has decided to act upon my advice.
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