Ryan

“ Ryan.
'By all means; they're welcome to it as much as they like. I'll tell you what, Mrs. Ryan, they'll have to stop till it comes back. Suppose you give them lunch? I'll have it sent in, and you will tell them it's the custom of the firm. I'd like to give that little girl some pleasure; I'm sure her life's dull enough. I hear her sister won't let her make friends with the girls at school, and they don't know a soul else in London, for she told Miss Upjohn so,' said Mr. James, who talked to Mrs. Ryan very freely, as she was an old servant of the family. ”

“ No heat—no blankets—nothing. The beds are cold as ice and hard as rocks, and the sheets are thin as paper."
Ryan was astounded. Could it be possible that this corpse didn't know it was in the morgue?
The thing yawned, disclosing its ghastly, blue-white tongue.
"Ho, hum. Gettin' sleepy again. Guess I'll crawl back in the old sheetrock bunk. G'night, bottle-nose."
This was too much for Ryan. His naturally florid countenance turned purple with anger as he watched the ghoulish figure stagger slowly toward the third slab. If he could only move! He concentrated his gaze on his little finger. ”

“ If he dreamed incongruously of big, luxurious cars gorgeous in paint and nickel trim, and of slim young women with yellow hair and blue eyes,—well, stranger dreams have been hidden away behind exteriors more unsightly than was the shell which holds the soul of Casey Ryan. ”

“ On the opening of the new house in Covent Garden, on 7 Dec. 1732, by the Lincoln's Inn Fields company, Ryan took part as Mirabell in the performance of the ‘Way of the World.’ At this house he continued during the remainder of his career. On 15 March 1735 Ryan was shot through the jaw and robbed by a footpad in Great Queen Street. On the 17th, when his name was in the bill for Loveless, he wrote to the ‘Daily Post’ expressing his fear that he would never be able to appear again, and apologising for not being able to appeal in person to his patrons at his benefit on the 20th. ”

“ Someone was walking toward him with slow, dragging footsteps from the direction of the third slab!
RYAN was no coward. On the contrary, he had shown marked bravery in many encounters with desperate bandits and thugs of the underworld. Neither was he superstitious. He believed that when a man was dead he was gone; and that was that. His soul might go to purgatory, and thence to heaven or hell, but never return to earth. ”

“ Non-residents, and aliens in sympathy and common interest, were appointed to rule over them, if not to oppress them. Is it to be wondered at if some refused to bow and kiss the hands that were uplifted against them? Among such was Father Ryan. All honor to the man and those who stood by him! Instead of attempting to cast obloquy upon their memory, we should do them honor for having maintained in its integrity the dignity of the manhood with which heaven had blessed them, when earth had deprived them of all else that was dear and sacred to brave and honorable men! ”

“ LAY PEOPLE.
Death of Hon. John Ryan.—January 27, there died at his home in St. Louis, Hon. John Ryan, a gentleman who is well known to many of the older leading citizens of St. Louis. Mr. Ryan was born in Kilkenny, Ireland, eighty years ago, and came in early manhood to the United States, where, in Connecticut first, he soon achieved prominence in public life. Migrating to the West he first settled at Decatur, Ill., where he published a daily paper for some years as well as keeping up his connection with the Irish newspaper press of the East. ”

“ Then they sat down, and after a little preliminary chat on the Chinese character and the Californian climate, Mrs. Ryan launched forth into her favorite theme of discourse.
"Genevieve will be so sorry to miss you," she said; "she's always so taken by Eastern gentlemen. They admire her, too, immensely. I can't tell you of the compliments we've heard directly and indirectly that they've paid her. Of course I can see that she's an unusually fine-looking girl, and very accomplished. Mr. Ryan and I have spared nothing in her education—nothing. ”

“ Ryan said pettishly. "You always get your own way, Terence. It was so at Athlone: you first of all began by asking my opinion, and then carried out things exactly as you proposed, yourself. Learning the language is a horrid nuisance, but I see that it has to be done."
"I expect, Dicky, you will have to make up as a woman. You see, you are not much taller than a tallish woman."
"Well, that would be rather a lark," Ryan said; "only don't you think I should be almost too good-looking for a French woman?" ”

“ In one word, he can't get a hearing. He might talk with the tongues of men and angels, but nobody will listen to him. It is a dirty shame. But what in the world can you expect? Lift a finger against the gang, and, presto, your job's gone, and you can't find another high or low. Ryan's money goes everywhere—into the schools, the church, the press. ”

“ Don't you lift a finger."
"Heavens, Cronin," snarled Outremont, "I never took you for such a quitter! You're going to let him keep those furs?"
"What else can he do?" cut in Ryan, grinning ogrelike in his triumph. "I've got your goat staked fast."
"No, you haven't, Rooney," contradicted the ex-marshal, as he forcibly backed Thorpe and Gayle up the divide. "We're going up to Dawson to speak to the Mounted Police ourselves. You think you're going strong, but in the golden city you'll sure strike a snag."
"Go on then," jeered Ryan. "Get as many police as you like. ”

“ James Ryan, his office boy and stenographer, watched him furtively from one corner of his eye, while his fingers whirled the typewriter on through the letter he was typing. James wanted to take his girl to the movies that evening and he hadn't had a chance to see her the day before. He was wondering if Mr. Reyburn would go out in time for him to call her up at her noon hour. He was a very temperamental stenographer and understood the moods and tenses of his most temperamental employer fully. It was all in knowing how to manage him. ”

“ Ryan looked disappointed. "Lots of people pretend they need help when they don't. The Nestors next door to me, they don't need it at all. They have plenty.—And I'm a worthy object. Mr. Ryan has been out of work considerable this year."
The girls looked their sympathy but could do nothing. "You go down to the Chamber of Commerce," they advised. ”

“ With the exaltation of a knight of old, Faraday felt that their trust would never be misplaced. He answered Mrs. Ryan's anxious queries with all the honesty of the calmest friendship. Alone in the great gold drawing-room, he talked to Genevieve on books, on music, on fashion, on society—on all subjects but that of love. And all the while he felt like the nightingale who sings its sweetest music while pressing its breast against a thorn. ”

“ Alabama's shriek smothered Cronin's voice. "Hold on," Alabama yelled, imploring eyes fixed on Rooney Ryan, who stood beside the ex-marshal. "I ain't dead. Hey, you batty ginks, pull me out! Rooney, make them pull me out."
BUT Rooney, with twenty thousand dollars forfeited if he opened his mouth, could do nothing but stare down like a graven image, denying himself even the luxury of a smile lest he jeopardize his stake. Nor was there any greater hope in the attitude of the men about him. ”

“ The company arose from around the stove and lined up in front of the gold scales which stood upon the end of Ryan's ornate bar.
"What'll you have, boys?" asked Ryan, presuming that they desired refreshments.
"We're not imbibing," Cronin told him. "We imbibe only with our friends. You're our hereditary enemy, Rooney, an enemy to society in general and to this committee in particular. It's Alabama Horbeed we've come to converse about. How much is left in his poke?" ”

“ And then to Miss Ryan, the side-kick of her former riotous spinster days, who was sitting at a corner table dipping her pretty little upturned nose into a foaming schooner: "Take my tip, Mamie, an' marry a Chink! That's the life, believe me!" ”

“ And he'd wondered how long Ryan would keep supporting him, so he wasn't surprised when the clan-chief joined him, Kelly, and Haley—both of whom had taken to remaining close except when Haley was at his own training sessions—at the evening meal.
Medart endured the clan-chief's scrutiny, certain he knew what was coming, so he wasn't surprised when Ryan spoke. "Prince James, will you admit I have done my best to teach you as you asked?"
"You have, Clan-chief," Medart replied. "My inability to benefit by more than the most basic instruction cannot be laid to your lack of effort." ”

“ Ryan thought it over for a minute, then his eyes began to twinkle and he pointed to his storehouse and said that if it would cement the Protestant church together I might take the pile."
Elsie laughed, while the bishop relapsed into deep body-shaking mirth.
"Splendid! Fine chap that Ryan. He's from Maynooth and I'm from Lurgan and who says the Irish don't hang together? So it's all settled?"
"Yes, when can we start work?"
"At once if it's possible. How long will it take?"
"Three months would finish it. The job will be swarming with men." ”

“ Well, I always have believed that Fate weaves our destinies for us; and a curious pattern is the weaving, sometimes! I'll go with you, Casey Ryan, and I hope, for your sake, that Indian Jim's mine is behind that clump of bushes. And I hope," she added, with a little laugh whose meaning was not clear to Casey, "I hope you get a million dollars out of it! ”

“ My name," she added impressively, "is Lucy Lily. What is your name?"
"Mr.—Casey Ryan," he stuttered, floundering in the mental backwash left by this flood of amazing eloquence.
"I like that name. I think I will have you for my friend. Do not talk to my mother, Hahnaga. She is crazy. She tells lies all the time about me. She does not like me because I have went to school and got a fine educating. She is mad all the time when she sees that I am not like her. Now you give me the silks. I will put on a pretty dress. My father is dead now and I can do what I wish to do ”

“ I have already noticed how Quin, in his old days, declined any longer to play annually for Ryan's benefit, but offered him the £1000 sterling Quin had bequeathed to him in his will. Brave old actor! Dr. Herring, who was then Archbishop of Canterbury, had not in him a truer spirit of practical benevolence than James Quin manifested in this act to Dick Ryan, [89] —who died in 1760.
In the following year, died Rich, the father of Harlequins, in England. He has never been excelled by any of his sons, however agile the latter may have been. ”

“ Ryan, whose voice had a drawling, croaking accent, due to the injury to his jaw, by which his features, naturally handsome, were also damaged, was one of the actors whom Garrick, in his early and saucy mimicries, derided on the stage. In subsequent years Garrick went to see Ryan for the purpose of laughing at his ungraceful and ill-dressed figure in ‘Richard III,’ but found unexpected excellence in his performance, by which he modified and improved his own impersonation. Quin's friendship with Ryan was constant, and was creditable to both actors [see Quin, James] . ”

“ That's Ryan."
"Oh, it is!" Silgarde gazed hard at Ryan's sound limbs, and as he gazed the faith in his prisoners that had accumulated within him suddenly went out. "Then your broken-legged story isn't worth a Siwash curse. It's cells for you now, and the only person that'll see you is Outremont's wife."
"Can't we see her brother, our third partner, Thorpe Calgour?" asked Hess.
"No. Men that'll put up a brazen story like you have must be watched close. You can't see anybody but Outremont's wife."
"That's the person I want to see—Trudis," declared Gayle. "Silgarde, you send for her on the jump." ”

“ But in that case, what of Ryan? Was it possible that Ryan was considered preferable to him? When that query introduced itself Micky usually swore. Altogether it was a hard week.
On one thing, however, he was determined. The matter should be settled, once for all, on his next night off. Perhaps Terence had been indiscreet and revealed the secret of his previous fruitless call. Maisie might expect him on the following Friday night and be away. Well, he would fix that. So he arranged for Thursday night. A little cunning might insure at least an audience. ”

“ But Ryan was respectable. He was Chairman of the Committee of Public Safety which lynched bad men when they became too prevalent with their guns. Ryan was our leading citizen, heaps rich, and virtuous no end. The Law would side with him, and as to the officers of the law, judges, and City Marshal, and the police—they'd got elected because he spoke for them. He owned the city, could bring out hundreds of men to take his side. What could I do against this Ryan's friends?
I knew that young Curly was hid in Grave City somewheres, and after a search I found him. ”

“ June 28, 1883, I was in Lexington and saw the unveiling of Valentine's recumbent statue of General Lee in Washington and Lee University. At the conclusion of Senator Daniel's eloquent oration Father Ryan recited his poem, "The Sword of Lee," the first time that it had been heard.
In Lexington I was at a dinner where Father Ryan was a guest. He told a story of a reprobate Irishman, for whom he had stood godfather. Upon one occasion the man took too much liquor and, under its influence, killed a man, for which he was sentenced to a term in the penitentiary. ”