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Updated: June 2, 2025
We called our entertainment "Terence's Fireside; or The Irish Peasant at Home." We had most of us been boys in the old Copperas Hill school, then in the Young Men's Guild connected with the church, and some of us members of the choir.
Terence's horn sounded again, the men fell back from the bank, and the whole company ran at full speed across the narrow valley, and took their place with their comrades on the hillside. The French crossed the stream under a heavy fire, and, dividing into two portions, prepared to assault both hills simultaneously.
The facilities of intercourse had conquered space, and along with its conquest had gone a penetration of the countries of the world by the tourist and the immigrant, the missionary and the trader, so that Terence's statement that nothing human was alien to him had become perforce true of the world. Nor had the development of governmental organization stood still.
When it was raised it disclosed the interior of the living room of a comfortable Irish homestead, with the large projecting open chimney, the turf fire on the hearth, and the usual pious and patriotic pictures proper to such an interior Terence's Fireside. Ours was a very self-contained company. Each had some special line as singer, musician, elocutionist, story teller or dancer.
Go home, ye silly talkin' woman, go home an' confess. "'Come away! Come away! sez Judy, pullin' her mother by the shawl. ''Twas none av Terence's fault. For the love av Mary stop the talkin'! "'An' you! said ould Mother Sheehy, spinnin' round forninst Dinah. 'Will ye take the half av that man's load?
O'Brien," Terence said. "Who cares what they do? It's what men do that counts. I'll tell you a story now." So Mrs. O'Brien and Kathleen listened to Terence's story. "There was three men," Terence began, "that lived near together, and their names was Hudden and Dudden and Donald. Each one of them had an ox that he'ld be ploughing with. Donald was a cleverer man than the others and he got on better.
This refusal excited the mutineers to the highest pitch, and when Terence arrived they were clamouring for his death. A small party of soldiers who remained faithful to him surrounded him, but they would speedily have been overpowered had it not been for the arrival of Terence's command.
For this reason, the faces, Helen's face, the nurse's, Terence's, the doctor's, which occasionally forced themselves very close to her, were worrying because they distracted her attention and she might miss the clue.
Having done, he rose at last from Sir Terence's desk, at which he had been sitting, and took up his riding-crop and cocked hat from the chair where he had placed them. "And now," he said, "I think I will ride into Lisbon and endeavour to come to an understanding with Count Redondo and Don Miguel Forjas." Sir Terence advanced to open the door. But Wellington checked him with a sudden sharp inquiry.
Terence's father had been brought to the ground by a ball that struck him near the hip; had been trampled on by the French as they passed up over him, and again on their retreat; and he was insensible when, as soon as the enemy retired, a party was sent down to bring up the wounded.
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