Professor Turnabout in the Irish Potato Famine
| April 6, 2011
Whoosh! The door opens and I step inside. The Locometer tells me that I'm in Ireland and the year is 1846.
When I step out again the girl notices me. She jumps up and runs into the hut. To my surprise three chickens run out. Is this a home or a chicken coop? "Pa! Pa!" she shouts. "I think the rent man is here!"
A big burly man comes marching out of the hut. He stops just inches away from me and starts waving his hands in the air. "Come for the rent have you? Don't you know that we have none?!"
"No no that's not why—" I start to stutter.
"Not one potato! Not one potato from the whole crop! I sowed them and weeded them and cared for them and what did I get for it? Nothing! Naught! The potatoes had the blight—that's right ill potatoes! So now what are you going to do seeing that I don't have two brass farthings to rub together."
"No money?" I ask. "No money at all?"
To read the rest of this story please buy this issue of Mishpacha or sign up for a weekly subscription.
Oops! We could not locate your form.

