Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 6, 2025
More than this, Ould Michael was a friend to all, and they loved him for his simple, generous heart. Too generous, as it turned out, for every month it was his custom to summon his friends to Paddy Dougan's bar and spend the greater part of the monthly remittance that came in his letter from home.
All through the following Sunday Ould Michael continued his celebration, with the hearty and uproarious assistance of the rest of the men and most of them remained over night for Ould Michael's Sunday spree, which they were sure would follow. How completely Paddy Dougan's whisky, most of which he made on his back premises, changed Ould Michael and the whole company!
"You'll find him boozing in one of the saloons, like enough, the old sot." I walked out without further word, for the longing for his throat grew almost more than I could bear, and went across to Paddy Dougan's. Paddy expressed great delight at seeing me again and, on my asking for Ould Michael, became the picture of woe.
In other days Ould Michael had gloried beyond all in the display of loyal spirit; but to-day he sat, dark and scowling, in Paddy Dougan's barroom. McFarquhar and I were standing outside the door keeping an eye, but not too apparently, upon Ould Michael's drinking.
That was the last I saw of Ould Michael for more than six months, but often through that winter, as I worked my way to the Coast, I wondered what the monthly mails were doing for the old man and whether to him and to his friends of those secluded valleys any better relief from the monotony of life had come than that offered by Paddy Dougan's back room.
"Ay, but I'll jist take him away with me to-morrow and he'll come to in a few days." I knew enough of the life in these valleys not to be hard with Ould Michael and his friends. The slow monotony of the long, lonely weeks made any break welcome, and the only break open to them was that afforded by Paddy Dougan's best home-made, a single glass of which would drive a man far on to madness.
While he lived his flag would fly. Had he left Grand Bend, or had Paddy Dougan's stuff been too much for him? I was rather surprised to find in my heart a keen anxiety for the old soldier. As I hurried on I saw that Grand Bend had heard the sound of approaching civilization and was waking up. Two or three saloons, a blacksmith's shop, some tents and a new general store proclaimed a boom.
After a time he said, hesitatingly: "And Ould Michael has his weakness and he will be drinking Paddy Dougan's bad whisky; but if he would only keep to the Company's good whisky " "Man," interrupted the minister, simply, "don't you know it is the good whisky that kills, for it is the good whisky that makes men love it." McFarquhar gazed at him in amazement. "The good whisky!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking