Wlliam Gilmore Simms
The Simms Review (Vol 11: No 1) >> Chronicles of Ashley River — No. 5 >> [Page 29]

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[Page 29]

Short Stories | 1829-10-15
Transcription ceive the flames have completely encir-
cled the house, and although I would not
pretend to judge in a matter about which
I must profess myself entirely ignorant;
I must confess my apprehensions are any
thing but inconsiderable.'' Troth' my young lady, and you may
well say so,' replied '=the blunt Irishman.
' Since the only hope there is left for us
now, is that these savages may break in-
to our defences and taking our outworks
put us to a spady and delectable death
to keep us from being smoked and fried
and suffocated alive. But Mistress ye're
dare mistaken when ye plaise to say that
revinge is of no use. Revinge is the sour
in the whiskey-punch of life and sorry is
the glass that has'n't got some of it in.
It would do my vitals a blessed sarvice
to shoot on the pate some of the hathen
villains.''Can you not think, of some means of
escape Mr M'Allister.''Sargeant M`Allister, mistress, if ye
plaise and captain commanding on this
blessed station of uncomfortable prospect.''But Sargeant,------------''Mistress O'Connelly junior which is
to say, the younger, make up your mind
to go your own way and dont hedder me.
Lord bless us fait, my honey, does ye
drama! that Sargeant Mac would lit ye die
like a bafestake, if a drop or two o' his
own heart's blood would be of sarvice.
Gee us the keys my ould lady, yez a clane
cretur, but yex not Mistress M`Allister,
an that's all how that rogue 'Redfoot,'
gee us the keys and lit's have the limons.
'Och, whiskey's the soul of a hate Irish-
At this time and while the Sargeant
was preparing a glass of his favorite, the
philosophic captain Archer, deserted from
his post after closing the window with
the utmost care, and securing it by a bolt.