[The Black Prophet: A Tale Of Irish Famine by William Carleton]@TWC D-Link book
The Black Prophet: A Tale Of Irish Famine

CHAPTER XIII
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However, it doesn't matter now--I'll auction everything--in this grange I won't live; and to be sure but I was a precious-old scoundrel to quarrel with the best servant a man ever had." Just at this moment, who should come round from a back passage, carrying a small bundle in his hand, but the object of all his solicitude.

He approached quietly on tiptoe, with a look in which might be read a most startling and ludicrous expression of anxiety and repentance.
"How is he ?" said he--"how is his poor leg?
Oh, thin, blessed saints, but I was the double distilled villain of the airth to leave him as I did to the crew that was about him! The best masther that ever an ould vagabond like me was ongrateful to! How is he, Tom ?" "Why," replied the other, "if you take my advice, you'll keep from him at all events.

He's cursin' an' abusin' you ever since you went, and won't allow one of us even to name you." "Troth, an' it only shows his sense; for I desarved nothing else at his hands.

However, if what you say is true, I'm afeared he's not long for this world, and that his talkin' sense at last is only the lightening before death, poor gintleman! I can stay no longer from him, any how, let him be as he may; an' God pardon me for my ongratitude in desartin' him like a villain as I did." He then walked into the parlor; and as the prophet was beckoned as far as the hall, he had an opportunity of witnessing the interview which took place between this extraordinary pair.

Jemmy, before entering, threw aside his bundle and his hat, stripped off his coat, and in a moment presented himself in the usual striped cotton jacket, with sleeves, which he alway's wore.


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