The Black Prophet: A Tale Of Irish Famine - Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of - William Carleton, Volume Three

William Carleton

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• Publié par: indrio
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 20
• Langue: English
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Black Prophet: A Tale Of Irish Famine
by William Carleton
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Title: The Black Prophet: A Tale Of Irish Famine
Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of
William Carleton, Volume Three
Author: William Carleton
Illustrator: M. L. Flanery
Release Date: June 7, 2005 [EBook #16018]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK PROPHET ***
Produced by David Widger
THE BLACK PROPHET:
A TALE OF IRISH FAMINE.
By William CarletonCONTENTS
CHAPTER I. — Glendhu, or the Black Glen; Scene of
Domestic Affection.
CHAPTER II. — The Black Prophet Prophesies.
CHAPTER III. — A Family on the Decline—Omens.
CHAPTER IV. — A Dance, and Double Discovery.
CHAPTER V. — The Black Prophet is Startled by a Black
Prophecy.
CHAPTER VI. — A Rustic Miser and His Establishment
CHAPTER VII. — A Panorama of Misery.
CHAPTER VIII. — A Middle Man and Magistrate—Master andMan.
CHAPTER IX. — Meeting of Strangers—Mysterious
Dialogue.
CHAPTER X. — The Black Prophet makes a Disclosure.
CHAPTER XI. — Pity and Remorse.
CHAPTER XII. — Famine, Death, and Sorrow.
CHAPTER XIII. — Sarah's Defence of a Murderer.
CHAPTEE XIV. — A Middleman Magistrate of the Old School,
and his Clerk.
CHAPTER XV. — A Plot and a Prophecy.
CHAPTER XVI. — Mysterious Disappearance of the
Tobacco-box.
CHAPTER XVII. — National Calamity—Sarah in Love and
Sorrow.
CHAPTER XVIII. — Love Wins the Race from Profligacy.
CHAPTER XIX. — Hanlon Secures the Tobacco-box.—
Strange Scene
CHAPTER XX. — Tumults—Confessions of Murder.
CHAPTEE XXI. — Condy Datton goes to Prison.
CHAPTER XXII. — Re-appearance of the Box—Friendly
Dialogue
CHAPTER XXIII. — Darby in Danger—Nature Triumphs.
CHAPTER XXIV. — Rivalry.
CHAPTEE XXV. — Sarah Without Hope.
CHAPTER XXVI. — The Pedlar Runs a Close Risk of the
Stocks.
CHAPTER XXVII. — Sarah Ill—Mave Again, Heroic.
CHAPTER XXVIII. — Double Treachery.
CHAPTER XXIX. — A Picture of the Present—Sarah Breaks
her Word.
CHAPTER XXX. — Self-sacrifice—Villany
CHAPTER XXXI. — A Double Trial—Retributive Justice.
CHAPTER XXXII. — Conclusion.
List of Illustrations
Page 785— "It's False," Replied the Young Fellow
Page 807— Tom's Clutches Were Again at his
Throat
Page 834— The Prophet's Brow Darkened
Page 847— I'll Tell You Nothing About It
Page 853— His Eye, Like That of His Father,
When Enraged
Page 913— I'll Have Nothing to Do With ThisRobbery
CHAPTER I. — Glendhu, or the Black Glen;
Scene of Domestic Affection.
Some twenty and odd years ago there stood a little cabin at the foot of a
round hill, that very much resembled a cupola in shape, and which, from its
position and height, commanded a prospect of singular beauty. This hill was
one of a range that ran from north to southwest; but in consequence of its
standing, as it were, somewhat out of the ranks, its whole appearance and
character as a distinct feature of the country were invested with considerable
interest to a scientific eye, especially to that of a geologist. An intersection or
abrupt glen divided it from those which constituted the range or group alluded
to; through this, as a pass in the country, and the only one for miles, wound a
road into an open district on the western side, which road, about half a mile
after its entering the glen, was met by a rapid torrent that came down from the
gloomy mountains that rose to the left. The foot of this hill, which on the
southern side was green and fertile to the top, stretched off and was lost in the
rich land that formed the great and magnificent valley it helped to bound, and to
which the chasm we have described was but an entrance; the one bearing to
the other, in size and position, much the same relation that a small bye-lane in
a country town bears to the great leading street which constitutes its principal
feature.
Noon had long passed, and the dim sun of a wet autumnal day was sloping
down towards the west through clouds and gloom, when a young girl of about
twenty-one or twenty-two years of age came out of the cabin we have
mentioned, and running up to the top of a little miniature hill or knob that rose
beside it, looked round in every direction, as if anxious to catch a glimpse of
some one whom she expected. It appeared, however, that she watched in vain;
for after having examined the country in every direction with an eye in which
might be read a combined expression of eagerness, anger and disappointment,
she once more returned to the cabin with a slow and meditating step. This she
continued to do from time to time for about an hour and a half, when at length a
female appeared approaching, whom she at once recognized.
The situation of this hovel, for such, in fact, it must be termed, was not only
strikingly desolate, but connected also with wild and supernatural terrors. From
the position of the glen itself, a little within which it stood, it enjoyed only a very
limited portion of the sun's cheering beams. As the glen was deep and
precipitous, so was the morning light excluded from it by the northeastern hills,
as was that of evening by those which rose between it and the west. Indeed, it
would be difficult to find a spot marked by a character of such utter solitude and
gloom. Naturally barren, it bore not a single shrub on which a bird could sit or a
beast browse, and little, of course, was to be seen in it but the bare gigantic
projections of rock which shot out of its steep sides in wild and uncouth shapes,
or the grey, rugged expanses of which it was principally composed. Indeed, we
feel it difficult to say whether the gloom of winter or the summer's heat fell upon
it with an air of lonelier desolation. It mattered not what change of season came,
the place presented no appearance of man or his works. Neither bird or beast
was seen or heard, except rarely, within its dreary bosom, the only sounds it
knew being the monotonous murmurs of the mountain torrent, or the wild
echoes of the thunder storms that pealed among the hills about it. Silence and
solitude were the characteristics which predominated in it and it would not be
easy to say whether they were felt more during the gloom of November or the
glare of June.
In the mouth of this glen, not far from the cabin we have described, two
murders had been committed about twenty years before the period of our
narrative, within the lapse of a month. The one was that of a carman, and the
other of a man named Sullivan, who also had been robbed, as it was supposed
the carman had been, for the bodies of both had been made way with and were
never found. This was evident—in the one case by the horse and cart of the
carman remaining by the grey stone in question, on which the traces of blood
were long visible; and in the other by the circumstance of Sullivan's hat andpart of his coat having been found near the cabin in question on the following
day, in a field through which his path home lay, and in which was a pool of
blood, where his foot-marks were deeply imprinted, as if in a struggle for life
and death. For this latter murder a man named Dalton had been taken up,
under circumstances of great suspicion, he having been the last person seen in
the man's company. Both had been drinking together in the market, a quarrel
had originated between them about money matters, blows had been
exchanged, and Dalton was heard to threaten him in very strong language. Nor
was this all. He had been observed following or rather dogging him on his way
home, and although the same road certainly led to the residence of both, yet
when his words and manner were taken into consideration, added to the more
positive proof that the footmarks left on the place of struggle exactly
corresponded with his shoes, there could be little doubt that he was privy to
Sullivan's murder and disappearance, as well probably as to his robbery. At all
events the glen was said to be haunted by Sullivan's spirit, which was in the
habit, according to report, of appearing near the place of murder, from whence
he was seen to enter this chasm—a circumstance which, when taken in
connection with its dark and lonely aspect, was calculated to impress upon the
place the I reputation of being accursed, as the scene of crime and supernatural
appearances. We remember having played in it when young, and the feeling
we experienced was one of awe and terror, to which might be added, on
contemplating the "dread repose" and solitude around us, an impression that
we were removed hundreds of miles from the busy ongoings and noisy tumults
of life, to which, as if seeking protection, we generally hastened with a strong
sense of relief, after having