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Updated: June 17, 2025
Brady's outer garments were steaming before the fire, and he was sitting on a stone outcrop, a look of solemn satisfaction on his face. "It is truly a habitation in the wilderness," he said, "and friends the best and bravest in the world. It is more, far more, than I, a lone fur hunter, had a right to expect. Truly it is more than any humble mortal such as I had a right to hope for.
After they had drunk at the lake and galloped up and down awhile, they began to nibble the grass, while Will walked among them and stroked their manes or noses, and was as pleased as they were. Brady's three horses were already as firm friends of his as the earlier animals. "Did you ever notice that boy's ways with hosses an' mules?" said the Little Giant to Brady. "He's shorely a wonder.
And I am so set upon it, that I am not to be persuaded. So, honoured sir, with a thousand thanks for all favours, I will set out to-morrow early; and the honour you designed me, as Mrs. Jervis tells me, of your chariot, there will be no occasion for: because I can hire, I believe, farmer Brady's chaise. So, begging you will not take it amiss, I shall ever be 'Your dutiful Servant.
In matters of the sacred muse, lengthily as others have I trespassed heretofore; the most protracted fytte, however, made a respectable inroad on a new metrical version of the 'Psalms, attempting at any rate closer accuracy from the Hebrew than Brady's, and juster rhymes than Sternhold's: but this has since been better done by another bard.
How could I be thinkin' anything else?" And then the meal went on. That evening, by permission, Pat went home. He sang, he whistled, he almost danced down the track. "And it's Pat as is the happy b'y this evenin'," said Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Listen to him singin' and whistlin', first wan and then the other. Gineral Brady's is the place for any one."
Fergus immediately repaired to Sir Robert Whitecraft, to whom he represented himself as a poor Protestant of the name of Bingham, and informed him that a Popish priest was then in Tom Brady's house, administering the rites of Popery to those who were sick in the family. "I seen him, your honor, go into the house; and he's there this minute'. If your honor makes haste you'll catch him."
Sure and b'ys has their feelin's loike the rest of the world. Spake to 'em by their lone silves when you've aught to say to 'em. There's niver a man of 'em all, not even Gineral Brady himsilf, would loike bein' bawled at in a crowd about somethin' that needed thinkin' over. And Gineral Brady's the foine man, too.
Murray, laughing at the puzzled expression of the child's countenance. Mr. Is that a correct likeness, Ellen?" "As good as one of Brady's photographs. Take warning, Edna." "The title of 'blue-stocking," continued the pastor, "originated in a jest, many, many years ago, when a circle of very brilliant, witty, and elegant ladies in London, met at the house of Mrs.
Tonk's doll store, and Green & Brady's store for notions all these were situated in Broad Street hardly a stone's throw from the Second Market. But none of these, excellent as they were, could bear comparison with the refined atmosphere, so different from the vulgar bustle of a modern department store, which enveloped one in the quiet gloom of Brandywine & Plummer's.
The two fell into each other's arms with a cry of joy, and for seven years they touched off dramatic explosions that strewed fat actors all over the landscape and tore miles of scenery into ribbons. "Some boy!" was Mr. Brady's tribute. "Put him in a death scene, and he'd find a way to break the furniture." There was never a part that "Doug" Fairbanks lay down on.
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