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Updated: July 12, 2025
The indwelling Paraclete keeps the heart in a constant spirit of prayer, so that at all hours and in all places prayers ascend. Communication is kept up between the heart and the throne of Grod. No snows break the wires. No floods wash away the poles. From the pulpit, from the sidewalk, from the counter, from the railway coach, from the sick bed, an ever-steady stream of prayer is kept up.
It would have been very strange if he had not understood, for though Grant addressed him in English the word grod bawled so frequently into his ear was sufficiently comprehensible. A fire was quickly kindled by the goodwife, a pleasant-looking elderly woman; and the black family-pot was soon smoking.
Now, then, old boy," he continued, turning to the owner of the hut, "could your goodwife make us a little porridge; I say, Sam, what's the Norse for porridge?" "Ah yes! grod, that's it," said Grant, turning again to the old man; "grod, grod, get us some grod, grod, grod, d'ye understand?" "Ya, ya," answered the man.
On each side were two wooden bowls filled with sour milk. We ate with wooden spoons from the same dish. There were no plates for supper, and once in a while we took a spoonful of sour milk to help the gröd go down. I always enjoy eating with wooden or horn spoons. I went to sleep in the loft this time. I wanted to be near Nils and Erik. They were fine boys, and we were friends.
We were ready to do justice to the food. The potatoes and the bacon quickly disappeared. After the meal we cleared the other windows of snow, and made passages to them, so that light might come through. It was a hard day's work all round! When supper time came we seated ourselves before a big wooden bowl of porridge called "gröd," made from barley meal.
I find her in rather a melancholy disposition, but trusts in the mercy of Grod to see her re-established. Our manner of life is very much alone, but we solace ourselves with the melancholy tunes of our native mountains, and by walking upon the margin of the sea that lies next to Scotland. It was better days with me when I lay with five wounds upon my body on the field of Gladsmuir.
Phaddhy, "and five daughters: indeed, sir, they're as well to be seen as their neighbors, considhering all things. Poor crathurs, they get fair play* now, thank Grod, compared to what they used to get God rest their poor uncle's sowl for that! Only for him, your Reverence, there would be very few inquiring this or any other day about them." * By this is meant good food and clothing.
An' now I tell ye, that if a hair o' my head's touched ay, if I was hanged to-morrow I'd lave them behind me that 'ud put a bullet, wid the help an' blessin' O Grod, through any one that'll injure me! So lay that to your conscience, an' do your best. Be the crass, O'Connell I'll make you look nine ways at wanst for this! He's the boy can put the pin in your noses!
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