Page:History of the yellow dwarf.pdf/20

20 “Dear grandmother,” said Celia, “how rough and long your arms havohave [sic] grown.”—“The fitter to fondle you, my dear.”—“ How your ears stand up in your cap,”—“The better to hear thy sweet voice, my love.”—“How large and bright your eyes are, grandmother.”— “ThoThe [sic] more proper to gaze on you my darling.”—“But how huge and frightful your teeth are.”—“All the better to devour with.” —And hohe [sic] sprang on thothe [sic] child, who screamed out, “Oh! you are not my dear, kind, grandmother, but the wicked wolf of thothe [sic] wood.” ShoShe [sic] had not time to say moromore [sic], for he ate her up in a few minutosminutes [sic].

ThoThe [sic] cruel wolf did not long survive these horrid deeds; for falling asleep after he had despatched his victim, hohe [sic] neglected to secure a timely retreat, and was caught in the bed by Celia’s parents, and other persons, who, alarmed by her stay, camocame [sic] late at night in search of her. A slight search disclosed the horrid deeds he had committed, and just vengeance overtook him: he died on the spot covered with wounds.

M P rented a few acres of barren ground in the neighbourhood of Mallow, in thothe [sic] county of Cork. Mick had a wifowife [sic] and family? they all did what they could, and that was but little, for the poor man had no child grown up big enough to help him in his work; and all the poor woman could do was to mind the children, milk thothe [sic] one cow, boil the potatoes, and carry the eggs to market; but with all they could do, ’twas hard enough on them to pay the rent. Well, thoythey [sic] managed it for a good while; but at last came a bad year, and the little grain of oats was all spoilodspoiled [sic], the chickens died of thothe [sic] pip, and the pig got the measles—she was sold for almost nothing; and poor Mick hadn’t enough to half pay his rent, and two terms were due.

“Why, Molly,” says he, “what’ll we do!”

“Wisha, thon, mavourneen! what would you do but sell the cow?” says she; “and Monday is Cork fair-day, and so you must go to-morrow, that the poor baste may be rested again the fair.”