| | 1 | Author: | Lowell
Robert
1816-1891 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The new priest in Conception Bay  | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | UP go the surges on the coast of Newfoundland,
and down, again, into the sea. The huge island,
in which the scene of our story lies, stands, with
its sheer, beetling cliffs, out of the ocean, a monstrous
mass of rock and gravel, almost without soil, like a strange
thing from the bottom of the great deep, lifted up, suddenly,
into sunshine and storm, but belonging to the watery
darkness out of which it has been reared. The eye,
accustomed to richer and softer scenes, finds something of
a strange and almost startling beauty in its bold, hard
outlines, cut out on every side, against the sky. “Thinking you may be aware of a little surcumstance
that happened here, and knowing your concern in people's
souls, is my reason for writing, to let you know what,
maybe, will prove interesting. You see I took a notion
to look into this Holy Roman Religion, a might, while I's
about it, and not having any thing partiklar to do till fall
business commences. I think best to inform friends and
all concerned, I may be converted, and I may not: suppose
it ell be according to. I have ben in one of those
Nunneries, ye may call it. Never saw any thing the
kind managed better, in my life. Sister Theresy is as
genteel a lady as I should wish to see. A little accident
occurred while I's holding inspection, as you may say.
My hat, you may have taken notice to it,” (“Well, this is
a pretty fellow!” said Gilpin,) “it went and come right
out of my hand, away into the middle of the floor, in a
room where they had a young lady sick. Most everybody
carries a few notions in his hat, I guess, and so I
had a pocket-handkerchief, and a knife, and a razor, and
a comb, and what not? and they all went sescatter. Penknife,
one of your Congress knives, present from honorable
Tieberius Sesar Thompson, Member Congress, went
away off under a picture; see it was “Saint Lucy,” right
opposite the bed; same name of your Miss Barbury:
pretty well executed, I sho'd judge; only a might too red
in the face, supposing she fasted as I should say she had
ought to, if she was a Nun. Lucky I didn't wake the
sick, but, most likely, she'd had medcine, as I took notice
to her breathing, ruther heavy and dead. Should judge
they kep her ruther covered up. All I could see was
jest an attom of her face and a might of black hair: should
say she ought to have fresh air. I thought of the shortness
and uncertainty of human life—seemed to be about
eighteen nigh as I could judge; but Father Nicholas,
they call him, that showed me round, seemed to feel bad
about the accedent, and I come away, and took a courteous
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