The Station; The Party Fight And Funeral; The Lough Derg Pilgrim: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume ThreeCarleton, William
General
The Station; The Party Fight And Funeral; The Lough Derg Pilgrim: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume Three
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Breakfast was now got ready, but it was evident that my two companions
had not been taken into account; for there was “an equipage” only for
one. I inquired from my speaking partner if she and her fellow-traveller
would not breakfast. The only reply I received was a sorrowful shake
of the head, and “Och, no, plaise your Reverence, no!” in quite an
exhausted cadence. On hearing this, the kind landlady gave them a look
of uncommon pity, exclaiming at the same time, as if in communication
with her own feelings, “Musha, God pity them, the poor crathurs; an
they surely can't but be both wake an ungry afther sich a journey, this
blessed an' broilin'day--och! och! if I had it or could afford it, an'
they shouldn't want, any way--arrah, won't ye thry and ate a bit of
something?” addressing herself to them. “Ooh, then, no, alanna, but I'd
just thank ye for a dhrink of cowld wather, if ye plase; an' that may
be the strengthenin' of us a bit.” I saw at once that their own little
stock of provisions, if they really had any, was too scanty to allow the
simple creatures the indulgence of a regular meal; still I thought
they might, if they felt so very weak, have taken even the slightest
refreshment from their bags. However, I was bound in honor, and also in
charity, to give them their breakfast, which I ordered accordingly
for them both, it being, I considered, only fair that as we had prayed
together we should eat together. Whilst we were at breakfast, the
landlady, with a piece of foresight for which I afterwards thanked her,
warmed a pot of water, in which my feet were bathed; she then took out a
large three-cornered pincushion with tassels, which hung at her side, a
darning needle, and having threaded it, she drew a white woollen thread
several times along a piece of soap, pressing it down with her thumb
until it was quite soapy; this she drew very tenderly through the
blisters which were risen on my feet, cutting it at both ends, and
leaving a part of it in the blister. It is decidedly the best remedy
that ever was tried, for I can declare that during the remainder of my
pilgrimage, not one of these blisters gave me the least pain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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