, and a dark shade of intense
hatred blackened his weather-beaten countenance, as he looked in the
direction from which the storm blew: "'twas he left us where we're
standin', Jimmy--undher this blast, that's cowldher an' bittherer nor a
step-mother's breath, this cuttin' day! 'Twas he turned us on the wide
world, whin your poor mother was risin' out of her faver. 'Twas he
squenched the hearth, whin she wasn't able to lave the house, till I
carried her in my arms into Paddy Cassidy's--the tears fallin' from my
eyes upon her face, that I loved next to God. Didn't he give our farm to
his bastard son, a purple Orangeman? Out we went, to the winds an' skies
of heaven, bekase the rich bodagh made intherest aginst us. I tould him
whin he chated me out o' my fifteen goolden guineas, that his masther,
the landlord, should hear of it; but I could never get next or near to
him, to make my complaint. Eh? A snug birth! I'm only afeard that hell
has no corner hot enough for him--but lave that to the divil himself:
if he doesn't give him the best thratement hell can afford, why I'm not
here."

"Divil a one o' the ould boy's so bad as they say, father; he gives it
to thim hot an' heavy, at all evints."

"Why even if he was at a loss about Sam, depind upon it, he'd get a hint
from his betthers above, that 'ud be sarviceable."

"They say he visits him as it is, an' that Sam can't sleep widout some
one in the room wid him. Dan Philips says the priest was there, an'
had a Mass in every room in the house; but Charley Mack tells me there's
no! thruth in it. He was advised to it, he says; but it seems the ould
boy has too strong ahoult of him, for Sam said he'd have the divil any
time sooner nor the priest, and its likest what he would say."

"Och, och, Jimmy, avick, I'm tir'd out! We had betther give in; the
day's too hard, an' there's no use in standin' agin the weather that's
in it. Lave the ould villain to God, who he can't chate, any way."

"Well, may our curse go along wid the rest upon him, for dhrivin' us to
sich an unnatural spot as this! Hot an' heavy, into the sowl an'
marrow of him may it penethrate. An' sure that's no more than all the
counthry's wishin' him, whether or not--not to mintion the curses that's
risin' out o' the grave agin him, loud an' piercin'!"

"God knows it's not slavin' yourself on sich a day as this you'd be,
only for him. Had we kep our farm, you'd be now well an in your larnin'
for a priest--an' there