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"I don't believe in guns," rapped Kerry. "My bare hands are good enough for any yellow smart in this area. And if they give out I can kick like a mule." The other laughed, shaking his head. "It's silly, all the same," he persisted. "The man who did the job out there in the fog to-night might have knifed you or shot you long before you could have got here."
The writers on these subjects also frequently denounced the rich for the wretchedness and misery to which they allowed the labouring poor to be reduced. This writer's remarks apply chiefly to Cork, Waterford, Kerry, and Limerick.
"Mike," who lived just back of our place, would come in at nights from his "Kerry cow," a scraggly runt that lived on the commons, with his pail so full he had to carry it cautiously lest it spill over. But after our full-blooded had been in clover to her eyes all day, Bridget would go out to the barnyard, and tug and pull for a supply enough to make two or three custards.
This he put into his mouth, and returned the packet to its resting-place. A slim, trim figure, he stood looking round him reflectively. "Now," he muttered, "what about it?" The clock of Brixton Town Hall was striking the hour of 1 a.m. as Chief Inspector Kerry inserted his key in the lock of the door of his house in Spenser Road.
"I'm here, sir," replied the voice of the constable from beside him. "H'm, then there's someone else about." He raised his voice. "Hi, there! have you lost your way?" Kerry stood still, listening. But no one answered to his call. "I'll swear there was someone just behind us, Bryce!" "There was, sir. I saw someone, too. A Chinese resident, probably. Here we are!"
Kerry stepped out from his hiding place. Durham had disappeared, and there was no cab in sight, but immediately beyond the illuminated entrance stood a Rolls-Royce which had been fifth in the rank of parked cars before the adjustment had been made to enable the coupe to reach the door. Kerry ran across, and: "Whose car, my lad?" he demanded of the chauffeur.
Michael Davitt came to Castleisland on February 21, 1886, and in a pestilential speech, inciting to crime, he showed that, at all events, he appreciated that for sheer blackness and turpitude Kerry was bad to beat. He said: 'For some time past Kerry has attracted more attention for the occurrences which have been taking place here, than the whole remainder of Ireland put together.
An angel came to Mochuda at Rahen on another occasion announcing to him the command of God that he should go that same day to Mac Fhiodaig, king of his own region of Kerry Luachra, and administer to him Holy Communion and Confession as he was on the point of death. Mochuda asked the angel how he could reach Kerry that day from Rahen.
Outdoor exercise, careful diet, perfect grooming, had kept Kerry in fine shape. His age told only in an added dignity, a slower movement. The girl went down on her knees, and hugged him. Pitache, aroused by Kerry's unwonted demonstrations, circled about them, rushing in every now and then to bestow an indiscriminate lick. "Why, it's Mary Virginia!" exclaimed Laurence, and helped her to her feet.
Does your faith teach you that the souls of men enter into snakes?" Now John hung his head; then snatching a kerry, he threw aside the kaross, revealing a great green serpent seven or eight feet long. With fury he fell upon the reptile, killed it by repeated blows, and hurled it into the courtyard outside the house. "Behold, father," he said, "and judge whether I am still superstitious."
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