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I come from the West Side between Thirtieth and Fourteenth I won't give the number on the door. I was a scrapper when I was ten, and when I was twenty no amateur in the city could stand up four rounds with me. 'S a fact. You know Bill McCarty? No? He managed the smokers for some of them swell clubs. Well, I knocked out everything Bill brought up before me.
Mary used to drink a deal of gin, and say-'this gin and the devil 'll get us all one of these days. I wonder if Mr. Crown 'll sell bad gin to his highness when he gets him?" Well, Bill was sent up for six months, so the McCartys had peace in the house, and Mrs. McCarty got him little things, and did for English until his arms got well.
The latter she for a long time resisted, but as she was considered large enough by this time to draw a cart, McCarty broke her to single harness, with a severe fracture of his leg and the loss of four teeth and a small spring wagon.
"Right off," said Mike. "I'll need a little time to put it in order." "Me and my partner will be at our business till six o'clock," returned Mike. "You can send in your trunks during the day if you like." "My trunk is at the Windsor Hotel," said Mike. "I've lent it to a friend for a few days." Mrs. McCarty looked at Mike with a puzzled expression.
The twins were put out, after the foreign fashion, to nurse, and a village in the neighbourhood, and the widow and her mother maintained a very good appearance despite their small income; and it was not long before the Widow McCarty married a young Englishman, James Gann, Esq. of the great oil-house of Gann, Blubbery, and Gann, who was boarding in the same house with Mrs. Crabb and her daughter.
His new customer was an Irish woman, by no means consumptive in appearance, red of face and portly of figure. "And what'll ye be givin' me for this?" she asked, displaying a pair of pantaloons. "Are they yours, ma'am?" asked Eliakim, with a chuckle. "It's not Bridget McCarty that wears the breeches," said that lady.
I will go!" Whether it was that confounded meat I had eaten that had put a seeming bravery into me, or desperation at the hunger of the past few days, I do not know, but I volunteered for a perilous mission. A little Irishman named McCarty spoke up, and said, "Captain, I will go anywhere that red headed recruit will go."
But to go back for a moment to the time when Louis XVIII. was restored a second time to the throne of his father, and all the English who had money or leisure rushed over to the Continent. At that time there lived in a certain boarding-house at Brussels a lady who was called Mrs. Crabb; and her daughter, a genteel young widow, who bore the name of Mrs. Wellesley McCarty. Previous to this Mrs.
"You may give me the money," said Bridget; "and it's I that wonder how you can slape in your bed, when you are so hard on poor folks." Mrs. McCarty departed with her money, and Eliakim fixed his sharp eyes on the next customer. It was a tall man, shabbily dressed, with a thin, melancholy-looking face, and the expression of one who had struggled with the world, and failed in the struggle.
Here she might have starved but for the intervention of one McCarty, a poor market gardener, who found her, and gave her food and shelter under the implied contract that she should forsake politics and go to work.
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