The Return of the O'Mahony. Frederic Harold

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The Return of the O'Mahony - Frederic Harold

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       Harold Frederic

      The Return of the O'Mahony

      A Novel

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066151843

       CHAPTER I.—THE FATHER OF COMPANY F.

       CHAPTER II—THE VIDETTE POST.

       CHAPTER III—LINSKY’S BRIEF MILITARY CAREER.

       CHAPTER IV.—THE O’MAHONY ON ERIN’S SOIL.

       CHAPTER V.—THE INSTALLATION OF JERRY.

       CHAPTER VI—THE HEREDITARY BARD.

       I.

       II.

       III.

       CHAPTER VII—THE O’MAHONY’S HOME-WELCOME.

       CHAPTER VIII—TWO MEN IN A BOAT.

       CHAPTER IX—THE VOICE OF THE HOSTAGE.

       CHAPTER X—HOW THE “HEN HAWK” WAS BROUGHT IN.

       CHAPTER XI—A FACE FROM OUT THE WINDING-SHEET.

       CHAPTER XII—A TALISMAN AND A TRAITOR

       CHAPTER XIII—THE RETREAT WITH THE PRISONERS

       CHAPTER XIV.—THE REINTERMENT OF LINSKY.

       CHAPTER XV—“TAKE ME WITH YOU, O’MAHONY.”

       CHAPTER XVI—THE LADY OF MUIRISC.

       CHAPTER XVII—HOW THE OLD BOATMAN KEPT HIS VOW.

       CHAPTER XVIII—THE GREAT O’DALY USURPATION.

       CHAPTER XIX—A BARGAIN WITH THE BURIED MAN.

       CHAPTER XX—NEAR THE SUMMIT OF MT. GABRIEL.

       CHAPTER XXI—ON THE MOUNTAIN-TOP—AND AFTER.

       CHAPTER XXII—THE INTELLIGENT YOUNG MAN.

       CHAPTER XXIII—THE COUNCIL OF WAR.

       CHAPTER XXIV—THE VICTORY OF THE “CATHACH.”

       CHAPTER XXV—BERNARD’S GOOD CHEER.

       CHAPTER XXVI—THE RESIDENT MAGISTRATE

       CHAPTER XXVII—THE RETURN OF THE O’MAHONY.

       CHAPTER XXVIII—A MARINE MORNING CALL.

       CHAPTER XXIX—DIAMOND CUT PASTE.

       CHAPTER XXX—A FAREWELL FEAST.

       THE END.

       Table of Contents

      ZEKE TISDALE was the father of Company F. Not that this title had ever been formally conferred upon him, or even recognized in terms, but everybody understood about it. Sometimes Company F was for whole days together exceedingly proud of the relation—but alas! more often it viewed its parent with impatient levity, not to say contempt. In either case, it seemed all the same to Zeke.

      He was by no means the oldest man in the company, at least as appearances went. Some there were gathered about the camp-fire, this last night in March of ’65, who looked almost old enough to be his father—gray, gaunt, stiff-jointed old fighters, whose hard service stretched back across four years of warfare to Lincoln’s first call for troops, and who laughed now grimly over the joke that they had come out to suppress the Rebellion within ninety days, and had the job still unfinished on their hands at the end of fourteen hundred.

      But Zeke, though his mud-colored hair and beard bore scarcely a trace of gray, and neither his placid, unwrinkled face nor his lithe, elastic form suggested age, somehow produced an impression

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