The Poor Scholar: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume ThreeCarleton, William
General
The Poor Scholar: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume Three
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
“Bad luck to me!” exclaimed the indignant boy, “if ever my ten toes will
darken this school door agin. By the livin' farmer, if they ax me at
home to do it, I'll run away to my uncle's, so I will. Wait, Jemmy, I'll
be big yit; an', be the blessed Gospel that's about my neck, I'll give
the same masther a shirtful of sore bones, the holy an' blessed minute
I'm able to do it.”
Many of the other boys declared that they would acquaint their friends
with the master's cruelty to the poor scholar; but Jemmy requested them
not to do so, and said that he was determined to return home the moment
he should be able to travel.
The affrighted woman could not prevail upon him to seek a reconciliation
with her husband, although the expressions of the other scholars
induced her to press him to it, even to entreaty. Jemmy arose, and with
considerable difficulty reached the Curate's house, found him at home,
and, with tears in his eyes, related to him the atrocious conduct of the
master.
“Very well,” said this excellent man, “I am glad that I can venture to
ride as far as Colonel B------'s to-morrow. You must accompany me; for
decidedly such brutality cannot be permitted to go unpunished.”
Jemmy knew that the curate was his friend; and although he would
not himself have thought of summoning the master to answer for his
barbarity, yet he acquiesced in the curate's opinion. He stopped that
night in the house of the worthy man to whom Mr. O'Brien had recommended
him on his first entering the town. It appeared in the morning, however,
that he was unable to walk; the blows which he had received were then
felt by him to be more dangerous than had been supposed. Mr. O'Brien, on
being informed of this, procured a jaunting-car, on which they both sat,
and at an easy pace reached the Colonel's residence.
The curate was shown into an ante-room, and Jemmy sat in the hall: the
Colonel joined the former in a few minutes. He had been in England and
on the continent, accompanied by his family, for nearly the last three
years, but had just returned, in order to take possession of a large
property in land and money, to which he succeeded at a very critical
moment, for his own estates were heavily encumbered. He was now
proprietor of an additional estate, the rent-roll of which was six
thousand per annum, and also master of eighty-five thousand pounds in
the funds. Mr. O'Brien, after congratulating him upon his good fortune,
introduced the case of our hero as one which, in his opinion, called for
the Colonel's interposition as a magistrate.
“I have applied to you, sir,” he proceeded, “rather than to any other
of the neighboring gentlemen, because I think this friendless lad has a
peculiar claim upon any good offices you could render him.”
“A claim upon me! How is that, Mr. O'Brien?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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