Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1915-02-18

daughter dependent OH you"
My father knew / would respect his
wishes
He was equally responsible for me,
yet he leaves me to your care-a Kings
north! The men masters and the wom-
en- slaves. That is the Kingsnorth
doctrine"
a servant came in to tell Angela the
doctor had come. Without a word An
gela went out to see to the wounded
a The servant followed her.
Let alone, Nathaniel sat down, shock
ed and stunned, to review the inter-
view he had just had with his young
er sister.
When Angela entered the Sickroom
she found DR.. McGinnis. a CHEEKY,
bright eyed, rotund little man of fifty,
talking freely to the patient and pune
tuating each speech with a hearty
laugh. His good humor was i1Hec-
tious.
The wounded agitator felt the effect
of it and was trying to laugh feebly
himself.
sure II ) lIc ullc luIScl yc uluSl
have made with yer six feet and one
inch. How could the poor soldiers
help hittin' yc? Answer me THAR
And the jovial doctor laughed again
as he deXtcrously wound Il bandage
around O'Connell's arm.
"Aisy now while I tie the bandage.
me fine fellow. Yell live to see the
inside Of an English Jail yet"
He turned as he heard the door open
and greeted Angela.
Good afternoon to We. Miss Kings
north. Faith. it's a blessin' We brought
the boy here. There's no tcllin' what
the prison surgeon would have done
to him. 1t is saltpeter. they tell me.
the English doctors rub into the Irish
wounds to klpe them smartin'. And.
by the like token. they do the same,
too. in the English house of commons.
SaItpcter in lrcland's wounds is what
they give us
is he much hurt?" asked Angela.
"Well, they've broken nothin'. Just
blackened his face and made Il few
holes in his skin. It's buckShot they
used. B%uckshot. Thank the merciful
Mr.. Foster for that same. 'Buckshot
Foster,' as the Irish reverently call
him.
'yNhat Il dastardly thing to do.' she
cried.
"Ye may we'll say that, Miss Kings
north" said the merry little doctor.
But it's betther than a bullet from q
Martini-IIenry rifle, that's what it is
And there's many a poor English land
lords got one of EN- in the back for
ridin' about at night on his own land.
It's Il fatherly government we have,
Miss K%ingsnorth. Hurt 'em. but don't
quite kill en- sez they. and Their put
'em in Jail and feed them on bread
and wather. That'll take the fine talk
in and patriotism out of them seq
they"
They'll never take it out of me.
They may kill me perhaps, but until
they do they'll never silence me-" MUIR
INJURED O'Connell in a voice so low. yet
so bitter, that it startled Angela.
Yell do that all in good time, INC
fine boy" said the busy little doctor.
Here. take a pull at this" and he
handed the patient a glass in which he
had dropped Il few crystals into some
water.
DR.. McGinnis said in a whisper tt
Angela:
Let him have that every three
hours: oftener if he wants to talk.
We've got to get his mind at rest"
There's no danger?" asked Angela
in the same tone.
"Nonc in the wurrld. He's got a
fine constitution. and mebbe the buck
shot was pretty clean. I've washed
! them out we'll
ITO think of men shot down like
dogs for speaking of their country:
strous.."
Faith, the English don't know what
| else to do with them. miss. It's no use
arguin' with the like of him. That
man lynn on that bed nd talk the
hind foot off Il heifer. The only way
to kape the likes Of him quiet is to
shoot him, and begob they have"
Il heard you, doctor.' came from the
bed. IF they'd killed me today there
would be Il thousand voices rise all
over Ireland to take the place of mine"
Faith, I'd rather kape me W life
than to have Il hundred thousand
spakin' for me and me dead. Is it
long yer stayin' here?" and the little
man picked up his hat.
Il don't know" said Angela.
well. it's you they'll miss when
ye're gone. Miss K~ingsnorth. Faith.
if all the English were like you this
sort of thing couldn't happen"
eve don't try to understand the
people. doctor. We just govern them
blindly and ignorantly."
"Faith. it's small blame to the Eng
fish. We're a mighty hard race to
make head OF tail of. and that's a
fact-cryin' salt tears at the bedside Of
a sick child and lawn to shoot a poor
man in the ribs for darin' TO ask for