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Updated: September 5, 2025
Madame stood troubled, fumbling the papers in her hand. She scarce had time to speak ere there came from the ladies' cabin a sudden rush of footsteps, and in an instant Miss Lady and she were in each other's arms. "My shild! My soul!" cried madame. "What is it? Where have you been? What is this!"
I haf exblained to him the viewss of our Ettical Surkle upon de future state, and he hass listened so attentifely, and ven I haf looked at him I haf found dat he wass asleep. Oh, his sleep wass so benign! I haf vept; I could not hellp it. He iss a shild of nature;" and good Mr. Michst wiped a tear from his eye.
He had limped along the road from the clean-looking little yellow house that he owned not far away on the river-bank, and his mind was upon his errand. "I come over early to ask the shild would n't she come home wit' me an' ate her dinner," said Patrick.
The dog had been growling, but all in fun, and snapping at me, when in a moment he hauled off, planted his paws on the rail, looked forth into the night, and gave a short, anxious bark, Ii e the solitary pop of the sentry's musket to alarm the main guard in outpost work. Peter Mangrove advanced, and put his arm round the dog's neck. "What you see, my shild?" said the black pilot.
She had seen that, under tender care, I was just beginning to revive, and being acquainted with many troubles, she had learned to succor all of them. This I knew not then, but felt that kindness was around me. "Arauna, arauna, my shild," she said, in a strange but sweet and soothing voice, "you are with the good man in the safe, good house. Let old Suan give you the good food, my shild."
"Young hofficer come home at night, Him give me ring and kisses; Nine months, one picaniny white, Him white almost like missis. But missis fum my back wid switch, Him say de shild for massa; But massa say him" The singer broke off suddenly, as if disturbed by the approach of some one.
"God be praised, what's this coming afther ye?" exclaimed the mother, while Nora, weeping for joy, ran past her into the house. "Oh, God bless the shild that I thought I 'd never see. Oh!" and she looked again at the stranger, the breathless old man with the thorn stick, whom everybody had left behind. "'T is me brother Patsy!
She had reared a family of respectable sons and daughters, who were all settled and doing well for themselves, and now she was helping to bring out some nephews and nieces from the old country. She was proud to have been born a Quin; Patrick Quin was her brother and a man of consequence. "'Deed, I 'd like well to see the poor shild," said Patrick.
"She's gone up the road a bitteen," said Mrs. Ryan, as if she suddenly turned to practical affairs. "She 's worked hard the day, poor shild! and she took the cool of the evening, and the last bun she had left, and wint away with herself. I kep' the taypot on the stove for her, but she 'd have none at all, at all!" The young man turned away, and Mrs. Ryan looked after him with an indulgent smile.
"Look at this now!" continued the proud uncle, while Aunt Biddy sat triumphantly watching the astonished audience; "'t is a letter I got from the shild last Friday night," and he brought up a small piece of paper from his coat-pocket. "She writes a good hand, too. 'Dear Uncle Patsy, says she, 'this leaves me well, thanks be to God.
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