Frank Frankfort Moore: Nationality: UK: Born : 1855 May 15 : Died : 1931 May 11 \
Excerpt
My son, said The Macnamara with an air of grandeur, my son, youve forgotten whats due he pronounced it jewto yourself, whats due to your father, what's due to your forefathers that bled, and The Macnamara waved his hand gracefully; then, taking advantage of its proximity to the edge of the table, he made a powerful but ineffectual attempt to pull himself to his feet. Finding himself baffled by the peculiar formation of his chair, and not having a reserve of breath to draw upon for another exertion, he concealed his defeat under a pretence of feeling indifferent on the matter of rising, and continued fingering the table-edge as if endeavouring to read the initials which had been carved pretty deeply upon the oak by a humorous guest just where his hand rested. Yes, my son, youve forgotten the blood of your ancient sires. You forget, my son, that youre the offspring of the Macnamaras and the ODermots, kings of Munster in the days when there were kings, and when the Geralds were walking about in blue paint in the woods of the adjacent barbarous island of Britain |the Macnamara said barbarious.
Excerpt
My son, said The Macnamara with an air of grandeur, my son, youve forgotten whats due he pronounced it jewto yourself, whats due to your father, what's due to your forefathers that bled, and The Macnamara waved his hand gracefully; then, taking advantage of its proximity to the edge of the table, he made a powerful but ineffectual attempt to pull himself to his feet. Finding himself baffled by the peculiar formation of his chair, and not having a reserve of breath to draw upon for another exertion, he concealed his defeat under a pretence of feeling indifferent on the matter of rising, and continued fingering the table-edge as if endeavouring to read the initials which had been carved pretty deeply upon the oak by a humorous guest just where his hand rested. Yes, my son, youve forgotten the blood of your ancient sires. You forget, my son, that youre the offspring of the Macnamaras and the ODermots, kings of Munster in the days when there were kings, and when the Geralds were walking about in blue paint in the woods of the adjacent barbarous island of Britain |the Macnamara said barbarious.