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Updated: May 25, 2025
"It's as aisy talkin' right as talkin' wrong," retorted Sweeny. "Ye've no call to grunt the curritch out av yer betthers. Wait till the liftinant says die." Thurstane was studying the landscape. Which of those ranges was the Cerbat, which the Aztec, and which the Pinaleva?
Tweed, Sweeny, and Hall, now alarmed by the disclosures in the Times, decided to make Connolly the scapegoat, and asked the aldermen and supervisors to appoint a committee to examine his accounts. By the time the committee appeared for the examination its purpose had been well announced the vouchers for 1869 and 1870 had disappeared. Mayor Hall then asked for Connolly's resignation.
"Wal, God bless 'em, 'n' God bless the hull army!" said Glover, so gratified that he felt pious. "An' now, good-by. Got to be movin'." "Stay over night with us," urged Thurstane. "Stay a week. Stay as long as you will." "Do," begged Clara. "You can go geologizing with my husband. You can start Sweeny on his farm." "Och, he's a thousin' times welkim," put in Sweeny, "though I'm afeard av him.
What they said to him I don't know, but he had the constable out sitting opposite the boat since five this morning the way nobody'd go near her." "Peter Walsh," said Sweeny, and this time he spoke in a subdued and serious tone, "let you go in through the kitchen and ask herself to give you the bottle of whisky that's standing on the shelf under the bar.
Michael Sweeny is the finest woman in Ireland or no?" "God knows, gentlemen, it's a pity ye haven't more to do this day," said Sweeny, turning at length upon his tormentors, "I'd sooner pay the price of the sheep than be losin' me time here this way." "See, now, how we're getting to the rights of it in the latter end," commented Dr. Lyden imperturbably.
Louis, and three recruits for the company, Kelly, Shubert, and Sweeny. Weber, a sunburnt German, with sandy eyelashes, blue eyes, and a scar on his cheek, had been a soldier from his eighteenth to his thirtieth year, and wore the serious, patient, much-enduring air peculiar to veterans.
At half past eleven there was not a single boat of any kind left afloat in the harbour. Peter Walsh, his coat off and his sleeves rolled up, was laying long stripes of green paint on the already shining bottom of the Blue Wanderer. He worked with the greatest zeal and earnestness. Timothy Sweeny looked at the empty harbour with satisfaction.
"There's no such great hurry, and anyhow, his authority is at an end. He couldn't give you as much as'd sod a lark now " "Nor he wouldn't if he could!" broke in Father Sweeny. "And there is hurry, and great hurry! How will I build my chapel without the land to put it on? Will you tell me that?" "Ah, you haven't the money gathered yet.
It must be understood that the fatigues and sufferings of that terrible pilgrimage through the desert had bothered the constitution of little Sweeny, and that, after lying in garrison hospital at San Francisco for several months, he had been discharged from the service on "certificate of physical disability."
Well, there was no more happened last night; but it wasn't more than nine o'clock this morning before that same sergeant was off up to the big house and I wouldn't wonder but it was to tell the strange gentleman that's there whatever it was he heard him last night. He had that kind of a look about him anyway." "I don't like the way things is going on," said Sweeny.
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