298 THE GUERNSEY LILY. 



were made of metal : the thumbs also turned 

 back. A pair of large bony hands thus formed, 

 or rather deformed, and stretched out to seize be- 

 tween them the hand of another person, was real- 

 ly a terrific spectacle to one who had never beheld 

 such a thing, and I became so nervous, that M. 

 covered them with a portion of the scanty bed- 

 clothes, and gently requested O'Neil not to let me 

 see them again. His feet were, I was told, in a 

 more painful state of distortion. 



The room was perfectly bare, save an old chest, 

 a broken chair, and a stool ; an iron pot for pota- 

 toes, and a basin, and a plate. It was perfectly 

 clean, nevertheless, and recently white-washed, 

 which gave it a more comfortable appearance than 

 most of the abodes in that place. My attention, 

 however, was soon so completely engrossed by 

 O'Neil's discourse, that I had little leisure for 

 other remarks. He was aged; but when raised 

 in his bed, I thought I never had beheld a more 

 imposing countenance and manner : there was 

 much of genuine dignity, and consciousness of for 

 mer respectability in station, and superior mental 

 endowment ; much information ; a flow of well- 

 chosen language, and sometimes a touching allu- 

 sion to his destitute state, as having proceeded 

 from the death of an only and affectionate son, 

 who had contributed largely to his support. But 

 the one object on which O'Neil shone out with 



