Valentine M'Clutchy, The Irish Agent - The Works of William Carleton, Volume Two by William Carleton
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page 6 of 724 (00%)
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for nearly three weeks before; but now the aspect of the white earth
contrasted wildly with the large masses of black clouds which hung motionless in the air, and cast a dark and gloomy spirit not only over the appearance of inanimate nature, but into the heart of man himself. About noon, just when the whole fair had been assembled, the storm commenced with wind, sleet, and rain. Never was a more striking or unexpected change produced. Women tucked up, nearly to the knees, their garments, soaked with wet, clinging to their bodies and limbs, as if a part of themselves--men drenched and buttoned up to the chin--all splashing through the slippery streets, their shoes spouting with snow-broth--the falling of tents--the shouting against the loudness of the storm, in order to be heard--the bleating of sheep, lowing of cattle, the deafening and wild hum of confused noises--all, when added to the roaring of the sweeping blast, the merciless pelting of the rain, and the inclement character of the whole day, presented a scene that was tempestuous and desolate beyond belief. Age, decrepid and shivering--youth, benumbed and stiffened with cold--rich and poor, man and woman, all had evidently but one object in view, and that was shelter. Love, charity, amusement, business, were all either disappointed or forced to suspend their operations, at least for the present. Every one ran or walked as quickly as possible, with the exception of some forenoon drunkard, who staggered along at his ease, with an eye half indolent and half stupid, careless, if not unconscious of the wild uproar, both elemental and otherwise, by which he was surrounded. Nay, the very beggars and impostors--to whom, in general, severe weather on such occasions is a godsend, as it presents them to their |
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