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Updated: May 23, 2025
Madden, the weaver, Kearney, the blind fiddler from Wicklow, Martin from Meath, M'Bride from heaven knows where, and that M'Grane, who in after days, when the true Moran was no more, strutted in borrowed plumes, or rather in borrowed rags, and gave out that there had never been any Moran but himself, and many another, did homage before him, and held him chief of all their tribe.
"Got into some scrape at home, I suppose, and run away. Of course he has some got-up lie ready. Well, sergeant, what is it?" "Lad wishes to enlist as a trumpeter, sir. Here is a letter from his next friend, Sergeant M'Bride of the 18th Hussars. Lad's father and mother dead. M'Bride stands in place of guardian." "A likely story," the adjutant muttered to himself. "What is your name, lad?"
"Anthony," said the priest, "I have known you a long time, now forty years at least, and you need not be told that I've stood by some of your friends when they wanted it. When your daughter ran away with that M'Bride, I got him to marry her, a thing he was very unwilling to do; and which I believe, only for me, he would not have done.
I wish to show them to his lordship, who, I think, you will find a more liberal purchaser than his father." "What's that you said, sir," asked M'Bride, with an appearance of deep interest, "about Mr. Birney going to France?" "This is no place to talk about these matters," said his lordship; "bring the man up to your own room, Norton, and I will join you there.
M'Bride, wife of the man who had abandoned her for the French girl, as had been mentioned by the stranger to Father M'Mahon, and who had, as was supposed, eloped with her to America. Such certainly was M'Bride's intention, and there is no doubt that the New World would have been edified by the admirable example of these two moralists, were it not for the fact that Mrs.
This lameness, that I'll carry to my grave, is his work. Oh, no; death any time sooner than that." "Well," said the old man, after a lung pause, "it's a strange story you've tould me; and I'm sorry, for Lord Cullamore's sake, to hear it. He's one o' the good ould gentlemen that's now so scarce in the country. But, tell me, do you know where M'Bride lives?"
"I have spoken to as good as ever he was; not that I say anything to his lordship's disparagement," replied M'Bride; "but I'll take the punch for a better reason because I I have a fellow feeling for it. And yet it was my destruction, too; however, it can't be helped. Yes, faith, it made me an ungrateful scoundrel; but, no matter! sir, here's your health!
'I must trust some one, M'Bride, said he, 'and I will trust you'; and then he tould me the raison of his journey here." "Well," replied his lordship, "proceed; have you anything more to add!" "Nothing, my lord, but what I've tould you.
Unfortunate, obstinate, and irreclaimable young man, it remains for me to tell you that the very documents, which you say have been lost by the villain M'Bride, with whom, in his villainy, you, the son of an earl, did not hesitate to associate yourself, are now in the possession of our opponents.
All we can communicate to the reader with respect to the conference between these three redoubtable individuals is simply its results. On that evening Norton and M'Bride started for France, with what object will be seen hereafter, Birney having followed on the same route the morning but one afterwards, for the purpose of securing the documents in question.
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