Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 9, 2025
"Lord Moyne, I presume?" said the young man. "Lord Moyne," I said, "has just left." "May I ask," he said, "if I have the honour of addressing Mr. McNeice?" I explained that I was not McNeice. Then, in order to get him to go away, if possible, I added that I was not Malcolmson, or Cahoon, or Conroy, or the Dean. "If you'll pardon my curiosity," he said, "I should like to ask "
He is quite confident of his ability to bluff the conscientious Liberal into dropping the Home Rule Bill for fear of civil war. O'Donovan, and possibly McNeice, will be left out in the cold if Babberly is right. The matter is rather a tangled one. With Babberly is Lady Moyne, working at her ingenious policy of dragging a red herring across the path along which democracy goes towards socialism.
He looked bristlier than ever, and was plainly in a state of joyous excitement. He held a copy of the first number of The Loyalist in his hand. He caught sight of me at once. "I'm damned," he said, "if I expected to see you here, Kilmore. You're the last man in Ireland " "I'm only here by accident," I said, "and I'm going away almost at once. Let me introduce you to Mr. McNeice and Mr. O'Donovan."
"All we ask," said McNeice, "is that the English clear out of this country, bag and baggage, soldiers, policemen, tax collectors, the whole infernal crew, and leave us free hand to clean up the mess they've been making for the last hundred years." "Either that," said Malcolmson, "or fight us in earnest." "They'll clear out, of course," I said. "If it's a choice between that and fighting.
No one ever heard of his attaching himself, even temporarily, to either church or chapel. McNeice also supplied brains and enthusiasm. His intelligence was narrower than Conroy's, but more intensely concentrated. He knew the men with whom he intended to deal.
It said that no Nationalist wanted to see Babberly and Lord Moyne put into prison; but that most Nationalists had been made to sleep on plank beds for utterances much less seditious than this advertisement of a review. O'Donovan and McNeice tore this manifesto to pieces with jubilant scorn in the next number of The Loyalist.
"Crossan brought me on his motor." "Were you in time for the scrimmage?" "You'd maybe better read the letter I've given you, my lord," said Crossan. "If I'd been there," said McNeice, "your nephew would probably be dead now. In my opinion he ought to be." "The letter I've just given your lordship," said Crossan, "is an important one." "I'm sure it is," I said. "But I haven't time to read it now."
On the other hand there is McNeice with fiery intelligence, and O'Donovan, a coldly consistent rebel against English rule in any shape and form. They have their little paper with money enough behind it, with people like Crossan circulating it for them. It is quite possible that they may count for something.
I knew nine myself, my own, of which I was a little proud, being the ninth. I did not expect McNeice to deliver a harangue on the whole seventeen, but that is what he did. Having bolted his fish, he began in a loud, harsh voice to pour contempt on all attempts at investigating the early history of our national saint.
"There aren't any," said McNeice. "Wiped out," said Malcolmson. "The General in command of the troops " said Moyne. "The troops are shut up in their barracks," said McNeice. "Licked," said Malcolmson. "Say," said Conroy, "are you dead sure you whipped them?" "They bolted," said Malcolmson.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking