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Updated: June 23, 2025
Thomas, third son of Maurice Fitzgerald, claimed partly through his uncle Fitzstephen, and partly through his marriage with the daughter of another early adventurer, Sir William Morrie, whose vast estates on which his descendants were afterwards known as Earls of Desmond, the White Knight, the Knight of Glyn, and the Knight of Kerry.
And does he suppose that Germany if we don't beat her will be deterred by his frightfulness? Germany's arrogance will be satisfied when she knows she's made a Frenchman feel like that about it. He's got his truth all right. As Morrie would say: "That's War." But a peaceful earthquake can do much the same thing.
The crowd was drifting now towards the Palace. Michael and Dorothea, Nicholas and Veronica, went with it. In this eternal perambulation they met people that they knew; Stephen and Vera; Mitchell, Monier-Owen; Uncle Morrie and his sisters. Anthony, looking rather solemn, drove past them in his car. It was like impossible, grotesque encounters in a dream.
He had picked up Dorothy and Aunt Emmeline and Uncle Morrie. "We're going down to the Mansion House," he said, "to hear the Proclamation. Will you come?" But Veronica and Nicholas were tired of crowds, even of historic crowds. Anthony drove off with his car-load, and they went home. "I never saw Daddy so excited," Nicky said. But Anthony was not excited.
In fact, it was these noises, mingled with the fierce reports of our guns, which impressed us the most. Taking it all in all, the scene was spectacular in the extreme. "Boys," remarked No. 7 of our crew "Morrie," we called him "this sight is worth all the coaling and standing watches and poor food we have had to put up with. I would experience it all over again just to see this bombardment."
From your dear little daughter. Her visit to Plymouth was in July. This letter, written three months later, shows how well she remembered her first lesson in history. TO MR. MORRISON HEADY South Boston, Mass. October 1st, 1888. My dear uncle Morrie, I think you will be very glad to receive a letter from your dear little friend Helen.
"How's that?" asked Flagg, innocently. "Why, they claim that the pen is mightier than the sword, don't they?" After the laugh had subsided, "Morrie," one of the Rochester detail, who acted as a shellman in the crew of Number Eight, said seriously: "I am a great admirer of the press representatives down here, fellows.
There was no need for her to linger and draw out her caresses, no need to be afraid of going to bed alone. Frances, at Vera's request, had had her cot moved up into the night nursery. Anthony had begun to wonder where on earth he should send Morrie out to this time, when the Boer War came and solved his problem.
But he was worse than superfluous, considering that most of the time Anthony was supporting Maurice, too. She had only known one serious anxiety lest her flesh and blood should harbour any of the blood and flesh left over after Morrie was made. She had married Anthony to drive out Morrie from the bodies and souls of her children.
"'S all right, Switzer," gaily replied a hoydenish lassie; she, the same who had begged Mr. Leary for a sea-pearl souvenir. "But just see wot Morrie Cassidy went and found here on the street!" Patrolman Switzer looked then where she pointed, and could scarce believe his eyes.
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