The Novels of Charles Lever V.1- The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer (Volume 18)
Paperback
Currently unavailable to order
ISBN10: 1154216578
ISBN13: 9781154216578
Publisher: General Books
Pages: 132
Weight: 0.55
Height: 0.28 Width: 7.44 Depth: 9.69
Language: English
ISBN13: 9781154216578
Publisher: General Books
Pages: 132
Weight: 0.55
Height: 0.28 Width: 7.44 Depth: 9.69
Language: English
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1898. Excerpt: ... that's more than we can say of the County Limerick. There's nothing so hard to provide for as a boy in these times, except a girl. The trunks have not arrived yet; I hope you despatched them.--Your attached and sincere friend, Jemima Dodd. LETTER VIII Betty Cobb To Mrs. Shusan O'shay, Priest's House, Bruff Dear Misses Shusan, --This comes with my heart's sorrow that I'm not at home where I was bred and born, but livin abroad like a pelican on a dissolute island, more by token that I never wanted to come, but was persuaded by them that knew nothin about what they wor talking, but thought it was all figs, and lemons, and raisins, with green pays and the sun in season all the year round; but, on the contrahery, sich rain and wind I never seen afore; and as for the eating, the saints forgive me if it's not true, but I b'1'eve I ate more rats since I've come, than ever ould Tib did since she was kittened. The drinkin 's as bad, or worse. What they call wine is spoilt vinegar; and the vegables has no bone nor eatin in them at all, but melts away in the mouth like butter in July. But tis the wickedness is the worst of all. O Shusan! but the men is bad, and the women worse. Of all the devils ever I heard of, they bate them. Tisn't a quiet walk to mass on Sunday, with maybe a decent boy beside you, discoorsin, or the like, and then sitting under a hedge for the evening, with your apron afore you, talkin about the praties or the price of pigs, or maybe the polis; but here tis dancin, and rompin, and eatin, with merry-go-rounds, swingswongs, and skittles, all the day long. The dancin's dreadful! they don't stand up forenint other, like a jig, where anything of a dacent partner wouldn't so much as look hard at you, but keep minding his steps and humorin the tune; but ...
