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Updated: May 17, 2025
Teddy Burke says three years, but I do hope it is not going to be as long as that." "Begorra!" another Irish officer, Captain O'Moore, exclaimed; "if it is three years we are going to be here, we had best be killed and buried at once.
It was on Dennis O'Moore that her eyes were bent, and they never moved as she struggled to her feet, and gazed anxiously at his face, his cap, and his seafaring clothes, whilst, for his part, Dennis gazed almost as wildly at her. At last she spoke: "GOD save ye, squire! Has the old counthry come to this? Is the O'Moore an alien, and all?" "No, no. I'm the squire's son," said Dennis.
It rose again, louder than before, for those from whom it came were nearing the house a horribly wailing sound, ringing out in the silence of the night. Mrs. O'Moore crouched into her chair again, and hid her terrified face. She was not Irish, and had never heard that sound but once, and that was when her child died. "She is right," cried her husband, the O'Moore; "that is the death-wail.
Val seemed in an ungracious mood. He and Mr. O'Moore and young Carteret were the only three who had remained behind. Anne asked Val why he did not go and look on; and he answered, because he didn't want to. It was getting on for five o'clock when the boats were discerned returning. How they clustered on the banks, watching the excited rowers, some pale with their exertions, others in a white heat!
"Observe Goldsmith," said Burke to O'Moore, "and mark what passes between us at Sir Joshua's." They passed on and reached there before him. Burke received Goldsmith with affected reserve and coldness; being pressed to explain the reason. "Really," said he, "I am ashamed to keep company with a person who could act as you have just done in the Square."
Many come to seek fortunes who only find trouble and sorrow, and then they throw the blame on chance, and forget the true cause is their own idleness and vice and want of commonsense. Whoever is sober and industrious, honest and economical, gets on. Such a one had been and was Paddy O'Moore.
The northern movements were to be arranged with Sir Phelim O'Neil, while McMahon, Plunkett, and Byrne, with 200 picked men, were to surprise the Castle guard consisting of only a few pensioners and 40 halbediers turn the guns upon the city to intimidate the Puritan party, and thus make sure of Dublin; O'Moore, Lord Maguire, and other civilians, were to be in town, in order to direct the next steps to be taken.
O'Moore, I heard that afore you were born, though I'm blessed if I know where. But it's a genteel pretty thing!" "It's all about roses and nightingales!" shouted Dennis, with comical grimaces. "Hear! hear!" answered the oldest and hairiest-looking of the sailors, and the echoes of his approbation only died away to let the song begin.
I think it was the entrance to Lincoln's Inn. We reached home at about six. There is a woman who has several times passed through this Hanover Street, in which we live, stopping occasionally to sing songs under the windows; and last evening, between nine and ten o'clock, she came and sang "Kathleen O'Moore" richly and sweetly.
Unless, indeed, Noah was an O'Moore." "There is reason to believe that he was," the captain said, seriously. "It must have been that, if he hadn't a boat of his own, or found a mountain that the water didn't cover.
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