The Dead Boxer eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 110 pages of information about The Dead Boxer.

“That Obeah woman’s playing on me,” he exclaimed; “because my face is black, she thinks me a fool.  Furies!  I neither know what she is, nor who the other is.  But I will know.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” replied Nell, gliding into the apartment—­“You can say little, blackey, or think little, avourneen, that I’ll not know.  As to who she is, you needn’t ax—­she won’t be long troublin’ you; an’ in regard to myself, I’m what you see me.  Arra, dher ma chuirp, man alive, I could lave you in one night that a boy in his first breestha (small clothes) could bate the marrow out of you.”

“Where did you come from now, granny?”

“From her room; she’s sick—­that was what prevented her from meetin’ Lamh Laudher.”

“Granny, do you know who she is?  I’m tired of her—­sick of her.”

“You know enough about her to satisfy you.  Wasn’t she a beautiful
creature when Lady S------ tuck her into the family, an’ reared her till
she was fit to wait upon herself.  Warn’t you then sarvant to the ould
lord, an’ didn’t I make her marry you, something against her will, too;
but she did it to plase me.  That was before ‘buildin’ churches’ druv you
out of the family, an’ made you take to the fightin’ trade.”

“Granny, you must bring this young fellow across me.  Blood! woman, do you know what he did?  He knocked me down, granny—­struck me senseless!  Fury of hell!  Me!  Only for attempting to kiss his sweetheart!”

“Ha!” said Nell, bitterly, “keep that to yourself, for heaven’s sake! Dher ma chuirp, man, if it was known, his name would be higher up than ever.  Be my sowl, any how, that was the Lamh Laudher blow, my boy, an’ what that is, is well known.  The devil curse him for it!”

“Granny, you must assist me in three things.  Find a clue to the money—­bring this fellow in my way, as you promised—­and help me with the landlord’s daughter.”

“Is there nothin’ else?”


“She’s sick.”

“Well, let her die, then; I don’t care.”

“In the other things I will help you,” said Nell; “but you must clear your own way there.  I can do every thing but that.  I have a son myself, an’ my hands is tied against blood till I find him out.  I could like to see some people withered, but I can’t kill.”

“Well, except her case, we understand one another.  Good night, then.”

“You must work that for yourself.  Good night.”


In the mean time a circumstance occurred which scarcely any person who heard it could at first believe.  About twelve o’clock the next day the house of Lamh Laudher More was surrounded with an immense crowd, and the whole town seemed to be in a state of peculiar animation and excitement.  Groups met, stood, and eagerly accosted each other upon some topic that evidently excited equal interest and astonishment.

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The Dead Boxer from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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