Jim Sulivan's Adventures in the Great Snow Page #3

"Jim Sulivan's Adventures in the Great Snow" is a captivating tale by Joseph Thomas Sheridan Le Fanu that follows the thrilling exploits of a young protagonist, Jim Sulivan, as he navigates the challenges of a harsh winter landscape. Set against the backdrop of deep snow and chilling temperatures, the story combines elements of adventure and mystery, exploring themes of perseverance and resilience. Le Fanu's evocative prose brings the stark beauty of the winter setting to life, while Jim's brave encounters and escapades showcase his spirited character and determination. The narrative reflects both the joys and perils of the season, making it a compelling read for lovers of classic adventure literature.

• Fiction

								

says she.

'Why, you bosthoon, you,' says Jim, 'won't you let your husband in,'
says he, 'to his own house?' says he.

'You WOR my husband, sure enough,' says she, 'but it's well you know,
Jim Soolivan, you're not my husband NOW,' says she.

'You're as dhrunk as can be consaved, says Jim.

'Go back, in God's name, pacibly to your grave,' says Nell.

'By my sowl, it's to my grave you'll sind me, sure enough,' says he,
'you hard-hearted bain', for I'm jist aff wid the cowld,' says he.

'Jim Sulivan,' says she, 'it's in your dacent coffin you should be, you
unforthunate sperit,' says she; 'what is it's annoyin' your sowl, in the
wide world, at all?' says she; 'hadn't you everything complate?' says
she, 'the oil, an' the wake, an' the berrin'?' says she.

'Och, by the hoky,' says Jim, 'it's too long I'm makin' a fool iv
mysilf, gostherin' wid you outside iv my own door,' says he, 'for it's
plain to be seen,' says he, 'you don't know what your're sayin', an' no
one ELSE knows what you mane, you unforthunate fool,' says he; 'so, onst
for all, open the door quietly,' says he, 'or, by my sowkins, I'll not
lave a splinther together,' says he.

Well, whin Nell an' Andy seen he was getting vexed, they beginned to
bawl out their prayers, with the fright, as if the life was lavin' them;
an' the more he bate the door, the louder they prayed, until at last Jim
was fairly tired out.

'Bad luck to you,' says he; 'for a rale divil av a woman,' says he. I
'can't get any advantage av you, any way; but wait till I get hould iv
you, that's all,' says he. An' he turned aff from the door, an' wint
round to the cow-house, an' settled himself as well as he could, in
the sthraw; an' he was tired enough wid the thravellin' he had in the
day-time, an' a good dale bothered with what liquor he had taken; so he
was purty sure of sleepin' wherever he thrun himself.

But, by my sowl, it wasn't the same way with the man an' the woman in
the house--for divil a wink iv sleep, good or bad, could they get at
all, wid the fright iv the sperit, as they supposed; an' with the first
light they sint a little gossoon, as fast as he could wag, straight off,
like a shot, to the priest, an' to desire him, for the love o' God,
to come to them an the minute, an' to bring, if it was plasin' to his
raverence, all the little things he had for sayin' mass, an' savin'
sowls, an' banishin' sperits, an' freakenin' the divil, an' the likes
iv that. An' it wasn't long till his raverence kem down, sure enough,
on the ould grey mare, wid the little mass-boy behind him, an' the
prayer-books an' Bibles, an' all the other mystarious articles that was
wantin', along wid him; an' as soon as he kem in, 'God save all here,'
says he.

'God save ye, kindly, your raverence,' says they.

'An' what's gone wrong wid ye?' says he; 'ye must be very bad,' says
he,' entirely, to disturb my devotions,' says he, 'this way, jist at
breakfast-time,' says he.

'By my sowkins,' says Nell, 'it's bad enough we are, your raverence,'
says she, 'for it's poor Jim's sperit,' says she; 'God rest his sowl,
wherever it is,' says she, 'that was wandherin' up an' down, opossite
the door all night,' says she, 'in the way it was no use at all, thryin'
to get a wink iv sleep,' says she.

'It's to lay it, you want me, I suppose,' says the priest.

'If your raverence 'id do that same, it 'id be plasin' to us,' says
Andy.

'It'll be rather expinsive,' says the priest.

'We'll not differ about the price, your raverence,' says Andy.

'Did the sperit stop long?' says the priest.

'Most part iv the night,' says Nell, 'the Lord be merciful to us all!'
says she.

'That'll make it more costly than I thought,' says he. 'An' did it make
much noise?' says he.

'By my sowl, it's it that did,' says Andy; 'leatherin' the door wid
sticks and stones,' says he, 'antil I fairly thought every minute,' says
he, 'the ould boords id smash, an' the sperit id be in an top iv us--God
bless us,' says he.

'Phiew!' says the priest; 'it'll cost a power iv money.'

'Well, your raverence,' says Andy, 'take whatever you like,' says he;
'only make sure it won't annoy us any more,' says he.

'Oh! by my sowkins,' says the priest, 'it'll be the quarest ghost in the
siven parishes,' says he, 'if it has the courage to come back,' says he,
'afther what I'll do this mornin', plase God,' says he; 'so we'll say
twelve pounds; an' God knows it's chape enough,' says he, 'considherin'
all the sarcumstances,' says he.

Well, there wasn't a second word to the bargain; so they paid him the
money down, an' he sot the table doun like an althar, before the door,
an' he settled it out vid all the things he had wid him; an' he lit a
bit iv a holy candle, an' he scathered his holy wather right an' left;
an' he took up a big book, an' he wint an readin' for half an hour,
good; an' whin he kem to the end, he tuck hould iv his little bell, and
he beginned to ring it for the bare life; an', by my sowl, he rung it
so well, that he wakened Jim Sulivan in the cowhouse, where he was
sleepin', an' up he jumped, widout a minute's delay, an' med right for
the house, where all the family, an' the priest, an' the little mass-boy
was assimbled, layin' the ghost; an' as soon as his raverence seen him
comin' in at the door, wid the fair fright, he flung the bell at his
head, an' hot him sich a lick iv it in the forehead, that he sthretched
him on the floor; but fain; he didn't wait to ax any questions, but he
cut round the table as if the divil was afther him, an' out at the door,
an' didn't stop even as much as to mount an his mare, but leathered away
down the borheen as fast as his legs could carry him, though the mud was
up to his knees, savin' your presence.

Well, by the time Jim kem to himself, the family persaved the mistake,
an' Andy wint home, lavin' Nell to make the explanation. An' as soon
as Jim heerd it all, he said he was quite contint to lave her to Andy,
entirely; but the priest would not hear iv it; an' he jist med him marry
his wife over again, an' a merry weddin' it was, an' a fine collection
for his raverence. An' Andy was there along wid the rest, an' the priest
put a small pinnance upon him, for bein' in too great a hurry to marry a
widdy.

An' bad luck to the word he'd allow anyone to say an the business, ever
after, at all, at all; so, av coorse, no one offinded his raverence, by
spakin' iv the twelve pounds he got for layin' the sperit.

An' the neighbours wor all mighty well plased, to be sure, for gettin'
all the divarsion of a wake, an' two weddin's for nothin.'
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