Oh, yes, Blank
was her name, she replied innocently, and Sir George Blank was her
brother. Sir George Blank, eh? thundered old Dan Cullen on his death-
bed; Sir George Blank, solicitor to the docks at Cardiff, who, more than
any other man, had broken up the Dockers' Union of Cardiff, and was
knighted? And she was his sister? Thereupon Dan Cullen sat up on his
crazy couch and pronounced anathema upon her and all her breed; and she
fled, to return no more, strongly impressed with the ungratefulness of
the poor.
Dan Cullen's feet became swollen with dropsy. He sat up all day on the
side of the bed (to keep the water out of his body), no mat on the floor,
a thin blanket on his legs, and an old coat around his shoulders. A
missionary brought him a pair of paper slippers, worth fourpence (I saw
them), and proceeded to offer up fifty prayers or so for the good of Dan
Cullen's soul. But Dan Cullen was the sort of man that wanted his soul
left alone. He did not care to have Tom, Dick, or Harry, on the strength
of fourpenny slippers, tampering with it. He asked the missionary kindly
to open the window, so that he might toss the slippers out. And the
missionary went away, to return no more, likewise impressed with the
ungratefulness of the poor.
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