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Unformatted text preview: o know the story of this saint," said I. "Well, don't say his name for god's sakes," said the other. "I wish I hadn't said it last night, I'll tell you. And I don't know his story and you won't hear it from anyone else I know either. It's an old legend, man, perhaps a joke," he said, "though we'll be talking about that storm last night for many a night to come, I can tell you." "Tell me all," I said. "I don't know. My grandmother said his name when she wished for an impossible thing, and said always to take care, and never wish for something from him unless you really wanted it. I've heard his name once or twice up there in the hills. There's an old song they sing. But that's all I know of it. I'm no Catholic. I don't know saints. No one hereabouts knows saints." The other man nodded. "I myself did not know that much. I've heard my daughter call on him, though, to make the young men turn their heads to notice her." I pounded them with questions. They gave me nothing more. I...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10