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Updated: May 23, 2025
It instantly became a patriotic duty to put him to death; and as I raised aloft and shook the glittering steel, I fancied myself rising like Brutus, effulgent from a crowd of patriots, and, as I stabbed him, I "called aloud on Tully's name, And bade the father of his country hail!"
"There'll be a crowd in the saloon, but not a hand will stir to arrest Silent till after the fight." "But Dan won't go to Tully's," broke in old Joe. "If Silent is crazy enough to do such a thing, Dan won't be." "He will," said Kate. "I know!" "You've got to stop him," urged Buck. "You've got to get to Elkhead and turn Dan back."
A Translation of part of Tully's Offices. Four Letters to a Friend in North-Britain, written upon the publishing Dr. Sacheveral's Trial. The History of Hannibal, and Hanno, from the best authors: In this piece he is supposed to intend by Hannibal, the duke of Marlborough; by Hanno, the lord treasurer Oxford, by Valerius Flaccus, count Tallard, and by Asdrubal, Dr. Robinson, bishop of Bristol.
Grave Matron, whoso seeks to blazon thee, Needs not make use of witts false Heraldry; Whoso should give thee all thy worth would swell So high, as'twould turn the world infidel. Had he great Maro's Muse, or Tully's tongue, Or raping numbers like the Thracian Song, In crowning of her merits he would be Sumptuously poor, low in Hyperbole.
He leaned confidentially on the back of Bean's chair and Bean looked up and through the lenses that so alarmingly magnified Tully's eyes. Tully twitched the point of his blond beard with thumb and finger as if to reassure himself of its presence. "By the way, Bean, I notice some fifty shares of Federal Express stock in your name.
A scar, an axe, a sword, a pink'd doublet, a rusty helmet, a pound and a half of pot-ashes in an urn, or a three-halfpenny pickle pot but above all, a tender infant royally accoutred. Tho' if it was too young, and the oration as long as Tully's second Philippick it must certainly have beshit the orator's mantle.
His Highness receives all strangers and transacts all business in an apartment of the celebrated old castle of the Karamanly Bashaws, whose legends of blood and intrigue have been so vividly and terrifically transcribed in Tully's Tripoline Letters. On entering this place I was astonished at its ruinous and repulsive appearance.
On the 12th, in the midst of a heavy fall of snow, his pack animals were driven in by another man, a stranger to the women at the ranch, who said that Enselman had changed his mind suddenly about coming home that fall, and decided to go to Montana and "prove up" on his ranch there. Mr. Tully's work was finished before the second week of December.
We are reading one of the most entertaining and interesting and NEW books I ever read in my life Tully's Residence in Tripoli, written by the sister of the consul, who resided there for ten years, spoke the language, and was admitted to a constant intercourse with the ladies of the seraglio, who are very different from any seraglio ladies we ever before heard of.
By sheer visual imagination in the setting and the handling of the stage, especially in the first act and the last, Mr. Miller contrived to endow the author's shallow fabric with the semblance of reality. On the other hand, Mr. Richard Walton Tully's play, The Rose of the Rancho, was spoiled by the cleverest stage-director of our day. Mr.
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