By Mical Schneider
To flee the Irish potato famine of the 1840s, twelve-year-old Annie and her brother to migrate to long island urban the place they sign up for their older sister as servants, earning profits to carry the remainder of their kinfolk to the USA, the place they become aware of that either nutrients and hardships abound.
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Additional info for Annie Quinn in America
Annie recognized the prayer. “Hail Mary, full of grace, blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,” Annie recited. Silently, she asked the Blessed Mother to keep Thomas from the fever and to bring them all together again. On the empty deck, the moon had dipped ordinary 33 sails, anchors, and coils of rope in silver. Annie stole along the moon’s path toward the water barrel. The barrel’s lid wasn’t locked. ” a whiskey-soaked voice asked, and the cook stepped unsteadily out of the shadows.
They’re Patriots,” Bridget explained. ” “Uncle Eamon should be seeing that,” Annie said. “He’d like to meet someone who won independence from England. ” A bell peeled and, as if struck by the clapper, the 51 columns of marchers split apart and ran pell-mell for the nearest sidewalk. Around the corner, a man with a silver trumpet raced down Broadway. “Make way! Make way,” he shouted. Behind him ran two lines of men in identical red shirts, black pants, and oval-brimmed helmets. Like pairs of fine horses in harness, they pulled a wagon loaded with ladders, long-handled hooks, axes, and leather hoses.
They entered a room as wide as their cabin at home. Where Annie judged the hearth would have been, a huge black stove squatted on four curved legs. All different sizes of kettles and pots boiled on the burners. A few puffed steam, and others rattled their lids. A large woman in a white cap and apron raised a ladle from one of the pots. “Mrs. Cox,” Bridget said. “This is my sister, Annie, and my brother, Thomas. ” Mrs. Cox puckered her lips, blew the steam aside, and sipped the broth. With her eyes squeezed shut, she said, “More salt,” and dropped the ladle back into the pot.
Annie Quinn in America by Mical Schneider