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    The Miraculous Revenge Little Blue Book #215
    The Miraculous Revenge Little Blue Book #215
    The Miraculous Revenge Little Blue Book #215
    Ebook55 pages40 minutes

    The Miraculous Revenge Little Blue Book #215

    By E. (Emanuel) Haldeman-Julius and Bernard Shaw

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    The Miraculous Revenge Little Blue Book #215

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      Book preview

      The Miraculous Revenge Little Blue Book #215 - E. (Emanuel) Haldeman-Julius

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Miraculous Revenge, by Bernard Shaw

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: The Miraculous Revenge

      Little Blue Book #215

      Author: Bernard Shaw

      Editor: E. Haldeman-Julius

      Release Date: January 11, 2007 [EBook #20336]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MIRACULOUS REVENGE ***

      Produced by Ted Garvin, Diane Monico, and the Project

      Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team at

      http://www.pgdp.net.

      LITTLE BLUE BOOK NO. 215

      Edited by E. Haldeman-Julius

      The Miraculous

      Revenge

      Bernard Shaw

      HALDEMAN-JULIUS COMPANY

      GIRARD, KANSAS

      PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

      THE MIRACULOUS REVENGE

      Bernard Shaw

      THE MIRACULOUS REVENGE

      I arrived in Dublin on the evening of the fifth of August, and drove to the residence of my uncle, the Cardinal Archbishop. He is like most of my family, deficient in feeling, and consequently averse to me personally. He lives in a dingy house, with a side-long view of the portico of his cathedral from the front windows, and of a monster national school from the back. My uncle maintains no retinue. The people believe that he is waited upon by angels. When I knocked at the door, an old woman, his only servant, opened it, and informed me that her master was then officiating at the cathedral, and that he had directed her to prepare dinner for me in his absence. An unpleasant smell of salt fish made me ask her what the dinner consisted of. She assured me that she had cooked all that could be permitted in his Holiness's house on Friday. On my asking her further why on Friday, she replied that Friday was a fast day. I bade her tell His Holiness that I had hoped to have the pleasure of calling on him shortly, and drove to the hotel in Sackville-street, where I engaged apartments and dined.

      After dinner I resumed my eternal search—I know not for what: it drives me to and fro like another Cain. I sought in the streets without success. I went to the theatre. The music was execrable, the scenery poor. I had seen the play a month before in London with the same beautiful artist in the chief part. Two years had passed since, seeing her for the first time, I had hoped that she, perhaps, might be the long-sought mystery. It had proved otherwise. On this night I looked at her and listened to her for the sake of that bygone hope, and applauded her generously when the curtain fell. But I went out lonely still. When I had supped at a restaurant, I returned to my hotel, and tried to read. In vain. The sound of feet in the corridors as the other occupants of the hotel went to bed distracted my attention from my book. Suddenly it occurred to to me that I had never quite understood my uncle's character. He, father to a great flock of poor and ignorant Irish; an austere and saintly man, to whom livers of hopeless lives daily appealed for help heavenward; who was reputed never to have sent away a troubled

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