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Quinnipiac

The Quinnipiac—rarely spelled Quinnipiack—is the English name for the Eansketambawg (meaning “original people”; c.f., Ojibwe: Anishinaabeg and Blackfoot: Niitsítapi), a Native American nation of the Algonquian family who inhabited the Wampanoki (i.e., “Dawnland”; c.f., Ojibwe: Waabanaki, Abenaki: Wabanakiyik) region, including present-day Connecticut.

Usage examples of "quinnipiac".

There were no jobs before the war, but he managed to get something in a clock factory down along the Quinnipiac River.

He found himself sobbing helplessly at the loss of all his shipmates, the realization that he hated Hitler for the first time in a flesh and blood visceral way for causing all this when he could be sitting in a miserable damp drafty factory by the Quinnipiac River in Fair Haven toiling over a Seth Thomas engine and listening to the alcoholic shop supervisor rambling about not taking a full hour for lunch .

Even if he spent his last years building clocks in a drafty warehouse down in New Haven Harbor near the Quinnipiac Pier, that would be less painful than ever facing this again.

The Consul-General, Lord Quinnipiac, was a rough-featured man with blue marbled eyes set in a classically aristocratic horsey face.

The man had every advantage of breeding and position Algernon so painfully lacked, and so Algernon regarded Quinnipiac with an automatic resentment.

Lord Quinnipiac put down the pressure line and picked up the newspaper, shaking it out to study the article.

Without referring to the paper, Quinnipiac looked Algernon in the eye.

Lord Quinnipiac held the smallest pistol Algernon had ever seen, the hydraulic pressure line clipped to the butt of its grip.

Algernon used the hours in his private compartment to wonder who had tried to kill him, and what role Quinnipiac might have played.

Algernon would never be free of highborn idiots like Quinnipiac interfering with his career.

Unsurprising, if Lord Quinnipiac truly feared leaks in the High Commission here.

Lord Quinnipiac believes it to be concealed here in San Antonio de Bexar.

Consider this, Ironman: why would Lord Quinnipiac send a pneu directly to the Bureau of Antiquities and not go through H.

Lord Quinnipiac could have had me killed in Galvezton without difficulty.

Istvan picked up a pistol about the size of the one Lord Quinnipiac had fired at Algernon, but lacking a hose clipped to the butt of the grip.