The Cross and the Shamrock: Or, How To Defend The Faith. An Irish-American Catholic Tale Of Real Life, Descriptive Of The Temptations, Sufferings, Trials, And Triumphs Of The Children Of St. Patrick In The Great Republic Of Washington. A Book For The Entertainment And Special Instructions Of The Catholic Male And Female Servants Of The United States. — John Shaqi
The Cross and the Shamrock: Or, How To Defend The Faith. An Irish-American Catholic Tale Of Real Life, Descriptive Of The Temptations, Sufferings, Trials, And Triumphs Of The Children Of St. Patrick In The Great Republic Of Washington. A Book For The Entertainment And Special Instructions Of The Catholic Male And Female Servants Of The United States.Quigley, Hugh
Religion
The Cross and the Shamrock: Or, How To Defend The Faith. An Irish-American Catholic Tale Of Real Life, Descriptive Of The Temptations, Sufferings, Trials, And Triumphs Of The Children Of St. Patrick In The Great Republic Of Washington. A Book For The Entertainment And Special Instructions Of The Catholic Male And Female Servants Of The United States.
Quigley, Hugh
Catholics -- United States -- Fiction; Irish Americans -- Fiction
We must take things as we find them; and this is why cold, rain, and
frost, the whistling of merciless winds, together with false and
pitiless ice, constitute the principal features of our introductory
chapter. The merry chimes of sleigh bells, as if to add gloom to the
scene, were silent, no snow having fallen this winter, and the ice being
irregular and lumpy. The streets of the city of T---- were almost
entirely deserted of foot passengers, owing to the danger of walking
over the slippery pavement; while cabmen and omnibus conductors had
cautiously driven their teams to the stable or smithy, to have them
"sharpened" for the frozen coat of mail which enveloped the earth. When
about dusk, an aged gentleman, in a cloak, with a sharp-pointed cane in
his hand, might be observed moving along the gutter of a narrow street.
Occasionally he would slip so as to come on one knee, and now he would
steer himself along by taking hold of the sills of windows, and of the
railings which here and there were erected in front of a few houses on
the retired and deserted street on which he crept along.
At length he approaches an old three-story, red, frame-built house,
which, from its shattered and dilapidated windows, at first seemed to
be deserted, but which, from the description left by a messenger with
his domestic in the forenoon, he could not doubt was the place where he
heard the emigrant widow lay at the point of death.
"Is this where the sick woman is?" said he to an old woman who opened
the door.
"Yes, your reverence," answered Mrs. Doherty, at once recognizing the
priest; "and thank God you are come. The Lord never deserts his own,
praise be to his holy name."
"Is she very ill?" said Father O'Shane; for thus was named the sole
pastor of the city of T---- in those days.
"That she is, your reverence, and callin' for the priest this three
days; but as we heard your reverence say that you would be in the
country till this day, we thought it no use to give in the sick call
sooner. I myself gave it in this morning afore my poor, sick old man got
up."
"God help the poor!" muttered the tender-hearted priest, as he ascended
to the third floor, where the dying woman lay.
"Amen!" answered Mrs. Doherty, aloud. "You would pity her, your
reverence, if you seen the misery they are in this two months; and it is
easily telling they saw better days in the ould country. It is easily
knowing _that_, by the _dacent_, mannerly children she has around her,
God help 'em."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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