Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil BlasLever, Charles
General
Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil Blas
Lever, Charles
Ireland -- Fiction
What a moment of joy was that as, unable to move farther, I sat down
upon a little bench in front of the hut! All sense of my loneliness, all
memory of my desolation, was lost in an instant. There was my home; how
strange a word for that sad-looking hut of pine-logs, in a lone island,
uninhabited! No matter, it would be my shelter and my refuge till better
days came round; and with that stout resolve I entered the great roomy
apartment, which in the settling gloom of night seemed immense.
Striking a light, I proceeded to take a survey of my territory, which I
rejoiced to see contained a great metal stove and an abundant supply
of bed-clothing,--precautions required by the frequency of ships being
ice-bound in these latitudes. There were several casks of biscuits,
some flour, a large chest of maize, besides three large tanks of water,
supplied by the rain. A few bags of salt and some scattered objects
of clothing completed the catalogue, which, if not very luxurious,
contained nearly everything of absolute necessity.
I lighted a good fire in the stove, less because I felt cold, for it
was still autumn, than for the companionship of the bright blaze and the
crackling wood. This done, I proceeded to make myself a bed on one of
the platforms, arranged like bed-places round the walls, and of which
I saw the upper ones seemed to have a preference in the opinion of my
predecessors, since, in these, the greater part of the bed-clothing
was to be found,--a choice I could easily detect the reason of, in
the troops of rats which walked to and fro, with a most contemptuous
indifference to my presence; some of them standing near me while I made
my bed, and looking, as doubtless they felt, considerably surprised
at the nature of my operations. Promising myself to open a spirited
campaign against them on the morrow, I trimmed and lighted a large lamp,
which from its position had defied their attempt on the oil it still
contained; and then, a biscuit in hand, betook myself to bed, watching
with an interest not, I own, altogether pleasant, the gambols of these
primitive natives of Anticosti.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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