The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poor Scholar, by William Carleton
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Title: The Poor Scholar
Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of
William Carleton, Volume Three
Author: William Carleton
Illustrator: M. L. Flanery
Release Date: June 7, 2005 [EBook #16017]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POOR SCHOLAR ***
Produced by David Widger
TRAITS AND STORIES OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY
BY WILLIAM CARLETON
PART VI
[Illustration: Frontispiece]
[Illustration: Titlepage]
THE POOR SCHOLAR.
One day about the middle of November, in the year 18--, Dominick M'Evoy
and his son Jemmy were digging potatoes on the side of a hard, barren
hill, called Esker Dhu. The day was bitter and wintry, the men
were thinly clad, and as the keen blast swept across the hill with
considerable violence, the sleet-like rain which it bore along pelted
into their garments with pitiless severity. The father had advanced
into more than middle age; and having held, at a rack-rent the miserable
waste of farm which he occupied, he was compelled to exert himself
in its cultivation, despite either obduracy of soil, or inclemency of
weather. This day, however, was so unusually severe, that the old man
began to feel incapable of continuing his toil. The son bore it better;
but whenever a cold rush of stormy rain came over them, both were
compelled to stand with their sides against it, and their heads turned,
so as that the ear almost rested back upon the shoulder in order to
throw the rain off their faces. Of each, however, that cheek which was
exposed to the rain and storm was beaten into a red hue; whilst the
other part of their faces was both pale and hunger-pinched.
The father paused to take breath, and, supported by his spade, looked
down upon the sheltered inland which, inhabited chiefly by Prostestants
and Presbyterians, lay rich and warm-looking under him.
"Why, thin," he exclaimed to the son--a lad about fifteen,--"sure I know
well I oughtn't to curse yez, anyway, you black set! an yit, the Lord
forgive me my sins, I'm almost timpted to give yez a volley, an'
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