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Updated: June 16, 2025
It was in this wise that Miss Peabody approached Balkilly Castle; and when a gilded gentleman-in-waiting lifted her from Rooney's 'plain cart, she was just on the verge of hysterics.
Jones's red steer it couldn't have been the same red steer was continually breaking into Rooney's 'whate an' bringin' ivery head av the other cattle afther him, and ruinin' him intirely. The Rooneys and M'Kenzies were at daggers drawn, even to the youngest child, over the impounding of a horse belonging to Pat Rooney's brother-in-law, by a distant relation of the M'Kenzies, which had happened nine years ago.
But the families of the Rooneys and McBrides is at vareance then I must keep 'em so. I'll keep Catty Rooney's spirit up, niver to consent to that match. Oh! if them Rooneys and McBrides were by any chance to make it up, I'd be undone: but against that catastrophe I've a preventative. Pat Coxe! Pat Coxe! where are you, my young man? Enter PAT, wiping his mouth. Pat. Just swallowing my breakfast.
"Why, Doctor Doctor Finucane," cried I, "is this possible? were you really the inside in the mail last night." "Devil a doubt of it, Mr. Lorrequer; and may I make bould to ask, were you the outside?" "Then what, may I beg to know, did you mean by your damned story about Barney Doyle, and the hydrophobia, and Cusack Rooney's thumb eh?"
They ended by drawing lots, and it fell to O'Donnell to speak first. A night or two later he overtook James Rooney as the latter was on his way to Ellen's house. He put his arm through Rooney's and said, 'Well, old fellow, I've had my dismissal. I'm not going your way to-night, but I believe your chance is worth a good deal. Presently I shall be able to wish you joy, Jim.
But, in spite of sundry drawbacks and disagreeables which I subsequently encountered, and which perhaps took off a little of the halo of romance which at first encircled everything connected with the sea in my mind, I have never lost the love and admiration for it which I experienced that night in mid Atlantic when I kept the middle watch with Mr Mackay, nor regretted my choice; neither have I ever felt inclined, I may candidly state, to give an affirmative answer to Tim Rooney's stereotyped inquiry every morning "An' ain't ye sorry now, Misther Gray-ham, as how ye iver came to say?"
"It's pleasure ye call it; then there's no accountin' for tastes, as Dr. Colles said, when he saw me bite Cusack Rooney's thumb off." "Bite a man's thumb off!" said I, in a horror. "Ay," said he with a kind of fiendish animation, "in one chop; I wish you'd see how I scattered the consultation; begad they didn't wait to ax for a fee."
Then was heard Tim Rooney's piercing whistle once more on board, and the welcome thrice welcome cry: "All ha-a-nds make sail!" The topsails were soon loosed by one watch, while the other hove up the anchor in fine style to the chorus of "Down in the lowlands, oh!"
They did not know what a life-wreck it outlined, but they saw and surmised enough to make them think of him as "the crathur," and speak to him with more deference than if he had returned in a radiant glow of success, symbolised as some of them had anticipated, by scarlet robes as splendid, at least, as Father Rooney's at High Mass.
At this point Rooney's heart almost failed him, but, catching sight of Maxwell's half-amused, half-contemptuous face, he stepped resolutely on the ladder, and began to descend in haste. "Hold on!" roared Baldwin, laying hold of the life-line. "Why, man alive, you're off without the front-glass!" "Och! Whirra! So I am," said Rooney, pausing.
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