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Updated: June 3, 2025
Such a man as you why not? says I. Then he stood still, and twirled a rose he held in his hand, and he said nothing, and I no more, till he stooped down, and from the grass where we stood pulled a sprig of clover. Is not this what you call shamrock? says he. It is, says I. Then he puts the shamrock along with the rose How would that do? says he. Mabel. Did he say that, Owen? Owen.
"I am hoping, at your leisure, to hear that ye both reached home, and found all belonging to ye as ye could wish; and I'm thinking that if Dennis wrote in French, I might make it out, for I've come by an old French Dictionary that was my father's. GOD save the Shamrock! Your affectionate friend, "ALISTER AUCHTERLAY. "I am ill at saying all that I feel, but I'll never forget."
Father Shamrock was soon the star of the ship's company. Perfectly suave, his gayety had rather the French sparkle about it than the distinguishing Italian trait, and his easy manner had a dash of manliness which I had not thought to find.
'A shamrock Captain Rock the tailor that was "blue moulded for want of a bating" Pat Riotism the time of Malachy with the collar of gold. 'Eva! cried Charlotte. 'Nonsense, said Eveleen; 'I am glad I know your tastes, Charles. They do you honour.
And could you doubt me, Mabel, after I told you I loved you? Mabel. Never would nor could have doubted, had you once told me as much, Mr. Gilbert. Widow. There was the thing, Mr. Gilbert you know it was you that was to speak, if you thought of her. Gilb. Do not you remember the rose and the shamrock? Widow.
Then a bumper to him in whose bosom combine All the virtues that proudly ennoble his line, As dear to his country, as stanch to his Queen; Nor less that Dalhousie a patriot we find, Whose field is the senate, whose sword is the mind, And whose object the strife of the world to compose, That the shamrock may bloom by the side of the rose, And the thistle of Scotland for ever be green!
The primrose-coloured pats of butter, each stamped with a shamrock in relief, seemed saturated with the fragrance of Normandy pastures. "How delicious!" they said in the same breath, and then laughed at the coincidence. "With but a single thought," he began. "How absurd!" she cried with cheeks all rosy. "I'm thinking I'd like a croisson." "So am I," he replied triumphant, "that proves it."
The houses on either side were dingy, singularly unattractive-looking buildings, and the further the cab crawled away from Victoria Street the deeper the shade of poverty and dirt that descended on the surroundings. Digby Street and Shamrock House were the culminating stroke to Joan's depression.
"Oi hed a paice ov shamrock, which I tuk out ov the fairy ring, sure, at Glasnevin, under me hid last noight whin Oi wor shlapin', an' me drame's bound fur to come thrue!" Strangely enough, so it turned out, too.
The latter took firm hold of his imagination; he long remembered the name of the particular vessel on which they crossed, the Shamrock, and many years later he was destined to meet her again under the strangest circumstances. In England he stayed only a year, just long enough to make his first friend and learn his first Latin.
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