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Updated: June 6, 2025
When they reached the foot of the stairs he broke out. "He says he's a Curie." He flipped the card in his hand. "I've known Arichat, man and boy, for sixty year. The' wa'n't never any Curies there." She looked up at him a little perplexed. "Couldn't you have forgotten?" Uncle William shook his head. "I wish 't I had. You set a good deal o' store by him, I can see.
I'll take a bet of a hundred dollars, ten people out of twelve in this country will recognise Jerry Boudrot's house who have never entered it, but who have seen others exactly like it, and will say, "I know who is meant by Jerry and his daughter and wife; I have often been there; it is at Clare or Arichat or Pumnico, or some such place or another."
Here is a Catholic chapel; and on shore a fat padre was waiting in his wagon for the inevitable priest we always set ashore at such a place. The missionary we landed was the young father from Arichat, and in appearance the pleasing historical Jesuit. Slender is too corpulent a word to describe his thinness, and his stature was primeval.
"He'll get well a good deal faster if the' 's suthin' he thinks he wants and can't have." "Yes. How will you keep him away?" A little twinkle sounded in her voice. "I'll take him home with me," said Uncle William, "up to Arichat." "Now?" "Well, in a day or two soon's it's safe. It'd do anybody good." His face grew wistful.
The twin stone towers of the unfinished cathedral loom up large in the fading light, and the bishop's palace on the hill the home of the Bishop of Arichat appears to be an imposing white barn with many staring windows.
The twin stone towers of the unfinished cathedral loom up large in the fading light, and the bishop's palace on the hill the home of the Bishop of Arichat appears to be an imposing white barn with many staring windows.
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