[Illustration: Andy Icing Champagne]

The Collected Writings of SAMUEL LOVER

TREASURE TROVE EDITION

In Ten Volumes

Volume Three

THE COLLECTED WRITINGS OF SAMUEL LOVER

HANDY ANDY

A Tale of Irish Life

IN TWO VOLUMES--VOLUME ONE

BOSTONLITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY_MDCCCCIII_

Copyright, 1901, byLittle, Brown, & Co. 

UNIVERSITY PRESSJOHN WILSON AND SONCAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 

ADDRESS

I have been accused in certain quarters, of giving flattering portraitsof my countrymen. Against this charge I may plead that, being aportrait-painter by profession, the habit of taking the best view of mysubject, so long prevalent in my eye, has gone deeper, and influencedmy mind:--and if to paint one's country in its gracious aspect has beena weakness, at least, to use the words of an illustrious compatriot, "--the failing leans to virtue's side. "

I am disinclined, however, to believe myself an offender in thisparticular. That I love my country dearly I acknowledge, and I am sureevery Englishman will respect me the more for loving _mine_, when heis, with justice, proud of _his_--but I repeat my disbelief that Ioverrate my own. 

The present volume, I hope, will disarm any cavil from old quarters onthe score of national prejudice. The hero is a blundering fellow whomno English or other gentleman would like to have in his service; butstill he has some redeeming natural traits: he is not made either abrute or a villain; yet his "twelve months' character, " given in thesuccessive numbers of this volume, would not get him a place uponadvertisement either in "The Times" or "The Chronicle. " So far am Iclear of the charge of national prejudice as regards the hero of thefollowing pages. 

In the subordinate personages, the reader will see two "Squires" ofdifferent types--good and bad; there are such in all countries. And, asa tale cannot get on without villains, I have given some touches ofvillainy, quite sufficient to prove my belief in Irish villains, thoughI do not wish it to be believed that the Irish are _all villains_. 

I confess I have attempted a slight sketch, in one of the personsrepresented, of a gentleman and a patriot;--and I conceive there is astrong relationship between the two. He loves the land that borehim--and so did most of the great spirits recorded in history. His ownmental cultivation, while it yields him personal enjoyment, teaches himnot to treat with contumely inferior men. Though he has courage toprotect his honour, he is not deficient in conscience to feel for theconsequences; and when opportunity offers the means of _amende_, it isembraced. In a word, I wish it to be believed that, while there areknaves, and fools, and villains in Ireland, --as in other parts of theworld, --honest, intelligent, and noble spirits are there also. 

I cannot conclude without offering my sincere thanks for the cordialmanner in which my serial offering has been received by the public, andnoticed by the critical press, whose valuable columns have been sooften opened to it in quotation; and, when it is considered how largean amount of intellect is employed in this particular department ofliterature, the highest names might be proud of such recognition. 

_London, 1st December_, 1842. 

The reprinting of the foregoing address, attached to the First Edition, sufficiently implies that my feelings and opinions respecting mycountry and my countrymen remain unchanged. So far, enough said. 

I desire, however, to add a few words to inform those who may, for thefirst time, read the story in this the Fourth Edition, that the earlypages were written fifteen years ago, as a magazine article;--that thesuccess of that article led to the continuation of the subject in otherarticles, and so on, till, eventually, twelve monthly numbers made up abook. A story thus originated could not be other than sketchy anddesultory, and open to the captiousness of over-fastidious criticism:it was never meant to be a work of high pretension--only one of thoseeasy trifles which afford a laugh, and require to be read in the samecareless spirit of good humour in which they are written. 

In such a spirit, I am happy to say, "Handy Andy" _was_ read fourteenyears ago, and has continued to be read ever since; and as thisreprint, in a cheaper form, will open it to thousands of fresh readers, I give these few introductory words to propitiate in the future thekindly spirit which I gratefully remember in the past. 

SAMUEL LOVER. 

_London, 26th July_, 1854. 

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

VOLUME ONE

Andy Icing the Champagne _Frontispiece_

Andy's First Attempt at Music _Vignette on Title_

Andy's Introduction to the Squire _Page_ 6

An Irish Inquest " 80

Andy's Welcome Home " 102

The Reward of Humanity " 129

The Widow Flanagan's Party " 295

_Etched by W. H. W. Bicknell from drawings by Samuel Lover_

HANDY ANDY

CHAPTER I

Andy Rooney was a fellow who had the most singularly ingenious knack ofdoing everything the wrong way; disappointment waited on all affairs inwhich he bore a part, and destruction was at his fingers' ends; so thenickname the neighbours stuck upon him was Handy Andy, and the jeeringjingle pleased them. 

Andy's entrance into this world was quite in character with his afterachievements, for he was nearly the death of his mother. She survived, however, to have herself clawed almost to death while her darling"babby" was in arms, for he would not take his nourishment from theparent fount unless he had one of his little red fists twisted intohis mother's hair, which he dragged till he made her roar; while hediverted the pain by scratching her, till the blood came, with theother. Nevertheless, she swore he was "the loveliest and sweetestcraythur the sun ever shined upon;" and when he was able to run aboutand wield a little stick, and smash everything breakable belonging toher, she only praised his precocious powers, and she used to ask, "Didever any one see a darlin' of his age handle a stick so bowld as hedid?"

Andy grew up in mischief and the admiration of his mammy; but, to do himjustice, he never meant harm in the course of his life, and he was mostanxious to offer his services on all occasions to those who would acceptthem; but _they_ were only the persons who had not already proved Andy'speculiar powers. 

There was a farmer hard by in this happy state of ignorance, named OwenDoyle, or, as he was familiarly called, _Owny na Coppal_, or, "Owen ofthe Horses, " because he bred many of these animals, and sold them at theneighbouring fairs; and Andy one day offered his services to Owny whenhe was in want of some one to drive up a horse to his house from adistant "bottom, " as low grounds by a river-side are called in Ireland. 

"Oh, he's wild, Andy, and you'd never be able to ketch him, " said Owny. 

"Troth, an' I'll engage I'll ketch him if you'll let me go. I neverseen the horse I couldn't ketch, sir, " said Andy. 

"Why, you little spridhogue, if he took to runnin' over the long bottom, it 'ud be more than a day's work for you to folly him. "

"Oh, but he won't run. "

"Why won't he run?"

"Bekaze I won't make him run. "

"How can you help it?"

"I'll soother him. "

"Well, you're a willin' brat, anyhow; and so go on, and God speed you!"said Owny. 

"Just gi' me a wisp o' hay an' a han'ful iv oats, " said Andy, "if Ishould have to coax him. "

"Sartinly, " said Owny, who entered the stable and came forth with thearticles required by Andy, and a halter for the horse also. 

"Now, take care, " said Owny, "that you are able to ride that horse ifyou get on him. "

"Oh, never fear, sir. I can ride owld Lanty Gubbins' mule betther norany o' the boys on the common, and he couldn't throw me th' other day, though he kicked the shoes av him. "

"After that you may ride anything, " said Owny; and indeed it was true;for Lanty's mule, which fed on the common, being ridden slily by allthe young vagabonds in the neighbourhood, had become such an adept inthe art of getting rid of his troublesome customers that it might wellbe considered a feat to stick on him. 

"Now take great care of him, Andy, my boy, " said the farmer. 

"Don't be afeared, sir, " said Andy, who started on his errand in thatpeculiar pace which is elegantly called a "sweep's trot;" and as theriver lay between Owny Doyle's and the bottom, and was too deep forAndy to ford at that season, he went round by Dinny Dowling's mill, where a small wooden bridge crossed the stream. 

Here he thought he might as well secure the assistance of Paudeen, themiller's son, to help him in catching the horse; so he looked about theplace until he found him, and telling him the errand on which he wasgoing, said, "If you like to come wid me, we can both have a ride. "This was temptation sufficient for Paudeen, and the boys proceededtogether to the bottom, and they were not long in securing the horse. When they had got the halter over his head, "Now, " said Andy, "give mea lift on him;" and accordingly, by Paudeen's catching Andy's left footin both his hands clasped together in the fashion of a stirrup, hehoisted his friend on the horse's back; and as soon as he was securethere, Master Paudeen, by the aid of Andy's hand, contrived to scrambleup after him; upon which Andy applied his heel to the horse's side withmany vigorous kicks, and crying "hurrup!" at the same time, endeavouredto stimulate Owny's steed into something of a pace as he turned hishead towards the mill. 

"Sure arn't you going to crass the river?" said Paudeen. 

"No, I'm going to lave you at home. "

"Oh, I'd rather go up to Owny's, and it's the shortest way acrass theriver. "

"Yes, but I don't like. "

"Is it afeared that you are?" said Paudeen. 

"Not I, indeed!" said Andy; though it was really the fact, for thewidth of the stream startled him, "but Owny told me to take grate careo' the baste, and I'm loath to wet his feet. "

"Go 'long wid you, you fool! what harm would it do him? Sure he'sneither sugar nor salt, that he'd melt. "

"Well, I won't anyhow, " said Andy, who by this time had got the horseinto a good high trot, that shook every word of argument out ofPaudeen's body; besides, it was as much as the boys could do to keeptheir seats on Owny's Bucephalus, who was not long in reaching themiller's bridge. Here voice and halter were employed to pull him in, that he might cross the narrow wooden structure at a quiet pace. Butwhether his double load had given him the idea of double exertion, orthat the pair of legs on each side sticking into his flanks (and perhapsthe horse was ticklish) made him go the faster, we know not; but thehorse charged the bridge as if an Enniskilliner were on his back, and anenemy before him; and in two minutes his hoofs clattered like thunder onthe bridge, that did not bend beneath him. No, it did _not_ bend, but itbroke; proving the falsehood of the boast, "I may break, but I won'tbend;" for, after all, the really strong may bend, and be as strong asever: it is the unsound that has only the seeming of strength, whichbreaks at last when it resists too long. 

Surprising was the spin the young equestrians took over the ears of thehorse, enough to make all the artists of Astley's envious; and plumpthey went into the river, where each formed his own ring, and executedsome comical "scenes in the circle, " which were suddenly changed toevolutions on the "flying cord" that Dinny Dowling threw to theperformers, which became suddenly converted into a "tight rope" as hedragged the _voltigeurs_ out of the water; and for fear their bloodmight be chilled by the accident, he gave them an enormous thrashingwith a _dry_ end of the rope, just to restore circulation; and hisexertions, had they been witnessed, would have charmed the HumaneSociety. 

As for the horse, his legs stuck through the bridge, as though he hadbeen put in a _chiroplast_, and he went playing away on the water withconsiderable execution, as if he were accompanying himself in the songwhich he was squealing at the top of his voice. Half the saws, hatchets, ropes, and poles in the parish were put in requisition immediately, andthe horse's first lesson in _chiroplastic_ exercise was performedwith no other loss than some skin and a good deal of hair. Of courseAndy did not venture on taking Owny's horse home; so the miller sent himto his owner, with an account of the accident. Andy for years kept outof Owny na Coppal's way; and at any time that his presence wastroublesome, the inconvenienced party had only to say, "Isn't that Ownyna Coppal coming this way?" and Andy fled for his life. 

When Andy grew up to be what in country parlance is called "a brave lumpof a boy, " his mother thought he was old enough to do something forhimself; so she took him one day along with her to the squire's, andwaited outside the door, loitering up and down the yard behind thehouse, among a crowd of beggars and great lazy dogs, that were thrustingtheir heads into every iron pot that stood outside the kitchen door, until chance might give her "a sight o' the squire afore he wint out, orafore he wint in;" and after spending her entire day in this idle way, at last the squire made his appearance, and Judy presented her son, whokept scraping his foot, and pulling his forelock, that stuck out like apiece of ragged thatch from his forehead, making his obeisance to thesquire, while his mother was sounding his praises for being the"handiest craythur alive--and so willin'--nothin' comes wrong to him. "

[Illustration: Andy's introduction to the Squire]

"I suppose the English of all this is, you want me to take him?" saidthe squire. 

"Throth, an' your honour, that's just it--if your honour would beplazed. "

"What can he do?"

"Anything, your honour. "

"That means _nothing_, I suppose, " said the squire. 

"Oh, no, sir. Everything, I mane, that you would desire him to do. "

To every one of these assurances on his mother's part Andy made a bowand a scrape. 

"Can he take care of horses?"

"The best of care, sir, " said the mother; while the miller who wasstanding behind the squire, waiting for orders, made a grimace at Andy, who was obliged to cram his face into his hat to hide the laugh, whichhe could hardly smother from being heard, as well as seen. 

"Let him come, then, and help in the stables, and we'll see what we cando. "

"May the Lord----"

"That'll do--there, now go. "

"Oh, sure, but I'll pray for you, and----"

"Will you go?"

"And may the angels make your honour's bed this blessed night, I pray. "

"If you don't go, your son shan't come. "

Judy and her hopeful boy turned to the right about in double-quicktime, and hurried down the avenue. 

The next day Andy was duly installed into his office of stable-helper;and, as he was a good rider, he was soon made whipper-in to the hounds, for there was a want of such a functionary in the establishment; andAndy's boldness in this capacity soon made him a favourite with thesquire, who was one of those rollicking boys on the pattern of the oldschool, who scorned the attentions of a regular valet, and let any onethat chance threw in his way bring him his boots, or his hot water forshaving, or his coat, whenever it _was_ brushed. One morning, Andy, whowas very often the attendant on such occasions, came to his room withhot water. He tapped at the door. 

"Who's that?" said the squire, who had just risen, and did not know butit might be one of the women servants. 

"It's me, sir. "

"Oh--Andy! Come in. "

"Here's the hot water, sir, " said Andy, bearing an enormous tin can. 

"Why, what the d----l brings that enormous tin can here? You might aswell bring the stable bucket. "

"I beg your pardon, sir, " said Andy, retreating. In two minutes moreAndy came back, and, tapping at the door, put in his head cautiously, and said, "The maids in the kitchen, your honour, say's there's not somuch hot water ready. "

"Did I not see it a moment since in your hand?"

"Yes, sir; but that's not nigh the full o' the stable-bucket. "

"Go along, you stupid thief! and get me some hot water directly. "

"Will the can do, sir?"

"Ay, anything, so you make haste. "

Off posted Andy, and back he came with the can. 

"Where'll I put it sir?"

"Throw this out, " said the squire, handing Andy a jug containing somecold water, meaning the jug to be replenished with the hot. 

Andy took the jug, and the window of the room being open, he verydeliberately threw the jug out. The squire stared with wonder, and atlast said--

"What did you do that for?"

"Sure you _towld_ me to throw it out, sir. "

"Go out of this, you thick-headed villain!" said the squire, throwinghis boots at Andy's head, along with some very neat curses. Andyretreated, and thought himself a very ill-used person. 

Though Andy's regular business was "whipper-in, " yet he was liable tobe called on for the performance of various other duties: he sometimesattended at table when the number of guests required that all the subsshould be put in requisition, or rode on some distant errand for the"mistress, " or drove out the nurse and children on the jaunting-car;and many were the mistakes, delays, or accidents, arising from HandyAndy's interference in such matters;--but as they were seldom serious, and generally laughable, they never cost him the loss of his place, orthe squire's favour, who rather enjoyed Andy's blunders. 

The first time Andy was admitted into the mysteries of the dining-room, great was his wonder. The butler took him in to give him some previousinstructions, and Andy was so lost in admiration at the sight of theassembled glass and plate, that he stood with his mouth and eyes wideopen, and scarcely heard a word that was said to him. After the headman had been dinning his instructions into him for some time, he saidhe might go, until his attendance was required. But Andy moved not; hestood with his eyes fixed by a sort of fascination on some object thatseemed to rivet them with the same unaccountable influence which therattlesnake exercises over its victim. 

"What are you looking at?" said the butler. 

"Them things, sir, " said Andy, pointing to some silver forks. 

"Is it the forks?" said the butler. 

"Oh, no, sir! I know what forks is very well; but I never seen themthings afore. "

"What things do you mean?"

"These things, sir, " said Andy, taking up one of the silver forks, andturning it round and round in his hand in utter astonishment, while thebutler grinned at his ignorance, and enjoyed his own superiorknowledge. 

"Well!" said Andy, after a long pause, "the devil be from me if ever Iseen a silver spoon split that way before!"

The butler gave a horse laugh, and made a standing joke of Andy's splitspoon; but time and experience made Andy less impressed with wonder atthe show of plate and glass, and the split spoons became familiar as"household words" to him; yet still there were things in the duties oftable attendance beyond Andy's comprehension--he used to hand coldplates for fish, and hot plates for jelly, &c. But "one day, " as Zangasays--"one day" he was thrown off his centre in a remarkable degree bya bottle of soda-water. 

It was when that combustible was first introduced into Ireland as adinner beverage that the occurrence took place, and Andy had the luckto be the person to whom a gentleman applied for some soda-water. 

"Sir?" said Andy. 

"Soda-water, " said the guest, in that subdued tone in which people areapt to name their wants at a dinner-table. 

Andy went to the butler. "Mr. Morgan, there's a gintleman----"

"Let me alone, will you?" said Mr. Morgan. 

Andy manoeuvred round him a little longer, and again essayed to beheard. 

"Mr. Morgan!"

"Don't you see I'm as busy as I can be? Can't you do it yourself?"

"I dunna what he wants. "

"Well, go ax him, " said Mr. Morgan. 

Andy went off as he was bidden, and came behind the thirsty gentleman'schair, with, "I beg your pardon, sir. "

"Well!" said the gentleman. 

"I beg your pardon, sir; but what's this you axed me for?"

"Soda-water. "

"What, sir?"

"Soda-water: but, perhaps you have not any. "

"Oh, there's plenty in the house, sir! Would you like it hot, sir?"

The gentleman laughed, and supposing the new fashion was not understoodin the present company said, "Never mind. "

But Andy was too anxious to please to be so satisfied, and againapplied to Mr. Morgan. 

"Sir!" said he. 

"Bad luck to you!--can't you let me alone?"

"There's a gentleman wants some soap and wather. "

"Some what?"

"Soap and wather, sir. "

"Divil sweep you!--Soda-wather you mane. You'll get it under theside-board. "

"Is it in the can, sir?"

"The curse o' Crum'll on you! in the bottles. "

"Is this it, sir?" said Andy producing a bottle of ale. 

"No, bad cess to you!--the little bottles. "

"Is it the little bottles with no bottoms, sir?"

"I wish _you_ wor in the bottom o' the say!" said Mr. Morgan, who wasfuming and puffing, and rubbing down his face with a napkin, as he washurrying to all quarters of the room, or, as Andy said, in praising hisactivity, that he was "like bad luck--everywhere. "

"There they are!" said Mr. Morgan at last. 

"Oh, them bottles that won't stand, " said Andy; "sure them's what Isaid, with no bottoms to them. How'll I open it?--it's tied down. "

"Cut the cord, you fool!"

Andy did as he was desired; and he happened at the time to hold thebottle of soda-water on a level with the candles that shed light overthe festive board from a large silver branch, and the moment he made theincision, bang went the bottle of soda, knocking out two of the lightswith the projected cork, which, performing its parabola the length ofthe room, struck the squire himself in the eye at the foot of the table:while the hostess at the head had a cold bath down her back. Andy, whenhe saw the soda-water jumping out of the bottle, held it from him atarm's length; every fizz it made, exclaiming, "Ow!--ow!--ow!" and, atlast, when the bottle was empty, he roared out, "Oh, Lord!--it's allgone!"

Great was the commotion;--few could resist laughter except the ladies, who all looked at their gowns, not liking the mixture of satin andsoda-water. The extinguished candles were relighted--the squire got hiseye open again--and the next time he perceived the butler sufficientlynear to speak to him, he said in a low and hurried tone of deep anger, while he knit his brow, "Send that fellow out of the room!" but, withinthe same instant, resumed his former smile, that beamed on all aroundas if nothing had happened. 

Andy was expelled the _salle à manger_ in disgrace, and for days keptout of the master's and mistress' way: in the meantime the butler made agood story of the thing in the servants' hall; and, when he held upAndy's ignorance to ridicule, by telling how he asked for "soap andwater, " Andy was given the name of "Suds, " and was called by no otherfor months after. 

But, though Andy's functions in the interior were suspended, hisservices in out-of-door affairs were occasionally put in requisition. But here his evil genius still haunted him, and he put his foot in apiece of business his master sent him upon one day, which was so simpleas to defy almost the chance of Andy making any mistake about it; butAndy was very ingenious in his own particular line. 

"Ride into the town and see if there's a letter for me, " said the squireone day to our hero. 

"Yes, sir. "

"You know where to go?"

"To the town, sir. "

"But do you know where to go in the town?"

"No, sir. "

"And why don't you ask, you stupid thief?"

"Sure I'd find out, sir. "

"Didn't I often tell you to ask what you're to do, when you don't know?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And why don't you?"

"I don't like to be throublesome, sir. "

"Confound you!" said the squire; though he could not help laughing atAndy's excuse for remaining in ignorance. 

"Well, " continued he, "go to the post-office. You know the post-office, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir, where they sell gunpowder. "

"You're right for once, " said the squire; for his Majesty's postmasterwas the person who had the privilege of dealing in the aforesaidcombustible. "Go then to the post-office, and ask for a letter for me. Remember--not gunpowder, but a letter. "

"Yis, sir, " said Andy, who got astride of his hack, and trotted away tothe post-office. On arriving at the shop of the postmaster (for thatperson carried on a brisk trade in groceries, gimlets, broadcloth, andlinen-drapery, ) Andy presented himself at the counter, and said, "Iwant a letther, sir, if you plaze. "

"Who do you want it for?" said the postmaster, in a tone which Andyconsidered an aggression upon the sacredness of private life: so Andythought the coolest contempt he could throw upon the prying impertinenceof the postmaster was to repeat his question. 

"I want a letther, sir, if you plaze. "

"And who do you want it for?" repeated the postmaster. 

"What's that to you?" said Andy. 

The postmaster, laughing at his simplicity, told him he could not tellwhat letter to give him unless he told him the direction. 

"The directions I got was to get a letther here--that's the directions. "

"Who gave you those directions?"

"The masther. "

"And who's your master?"

"What consarn is that o' yours?"

"Why, you stupid rascal! if you don't tell me his name, how can I giveyou a letter?"

"You could give it if you liked: but you're fond of axin' impidentquestions, bekase you think I'm simple. "

"Go along out o' this! Your master must be as great a goose as yourself, to send such a messenger. "

"Bad luck to your impidence, " said Andy; "is it Squire Egan you dar tosay goose to?"

"Oh, Squire Egan's your master, then?"

"Yes, have you anything to say agin it?"

"Only that I never saw you before. "

"Faith, then you'll never see me agin if I have my own consint. "

"I won't give you any letter for the squire, unless I know you're hisservant. Is there any one in the town knows you?"

"Plenty, " said Andy, "it's not every one is as ignorant as you. "

Just at this moment a person to whom Andy was known entered the house, who vouched to the postmaster that he might give Andy the squire'sletter. "Have you one for me?"

"Yes, sir, " said the postmaster, producing one--"fourpence. "

The gentleman paid the fourpence postage, and left the shop with hisletter. 

"Here's a letter for the squire, " said the postmaster; "you've to pay meelevenpence postage. "

"What 'ud I pay elevenpence for?"

"For postage. "

"To the devil wid you! Didn't I see you give Mr. Durfy a letther forfourpence this minit, and a bigger letther than this? and now you wantme to pay elevenpence for this scrap of a thing. Do you think I'm afool?"

"No: but I'm sure of it, " said the postmaster. 

"Well you're welkum to be sure, sure;--but don't be delayin' me now:here's fourpence for you, and gi' me the letther. "

"Go along, you stupid thief!" said the postmaster, taking up the letter, and going to serve a customer with a mouse-trap. 

While this person, and many others were served, Andy lounged up and downthe shop, every now and then putting in his head in the middle of thecustomers, and saying, "Will you gi' me the letther?"

He waited for above half an hour, in defiance of the anathemas of thepostmaster, and at last left, when he found it impossible to get commonjustice for his master, which he thought he deserved as well as anotherman; for, under this impression, Andy determined to give no more thanthe fourpence. 

The squire in the meantime was getting impatient for his return, andwhen Andy made his appearance, asked if there was a letter for him. 

"There is, sir, " said Andy. 

"Then give it to me. "

"I haven't it, sir. "

"What do you mean?"

"He wouldn't give it to me, sir. "

"Who wouldn't give it you?"

"That owld chate beyant in the town--wanting to charge me double forit. "

"Maybe it's a double letter. Why the devil didn't you pay what he asked, sir?"

"Arrah, sir, why would I let you be chated? It's not a double letther atall: not above half the size o' one Mr. Durfy got before my face forfourpence. "

"You'll provoke me to break your neck some day, you vagabond! Ride backfor your life, you omadhaun; and pay whatever he asks, and get me theletter. "

"Why, sir, I tell you he was sellin' them before my face for fourpencea-piece. "

"Go back, you scoundrel! or I'll horsewhip you; and if you're longerthan an hour, I'll have you ducked in the horse-pond!"

Andy vanished, and made a second visit to the post-office. When hearrived, two other persons were getting letters, and the postmaster wasselecting the epistles for each, from a large parcel that lay before himon the counter; at the same time many shop customers were waiting to beserved. 

"I'm come for that letther, " said Andy. 

"I'll attend to you by-and-by. "

"The masther's in a hurry. "

"Let him wait till his hurry's over. "

"He'll murther me if I'm not back soon. "

"I'm glad to hear it. "

While the postmaster went on with such provoking answers to theseappeals for dispatch, Andy's eye caught the heap of letters which lay onthe counter: so while certain weighing of soap and tobacco was goingforward, he contrived to become possessed of two letters from the heap, and, having effected that, waited patiently enough till it was the greatman's pleasure to give him the missive directed to his master. 

Then did Andy bestride his hack, and in triumph at his trick on thepostmaster, rattled along the road homeward as fast as the beast couldcarry him. He came into the squire's presence, his face beaming withdelight, and an air of self-satisfied superiority in his manner, quiteunaccountable to his master, until he pulled forth his hand, which hadbeen grubbing up his prizes from the bottom of his pocket; and holdingthree letters over his head, while he said, "Look at that!" he nextslapped them down under his broad fist on the table before the squire, saying--

"Well! if he did make me pay elevenpence, by gor, I brought your honourthe worth o' your money anyhow!"

CHAPTER II

Andy walked out of the room with an air of supreme triumph, having laidthe letters on the table, and left the squire staring after him inperfect amazement. 

"Well, by the powers! that's the most extraordinary genius I ever cameacross, " was the soliloquy the master uttered as the servant closed thedoor after him; and the squire broke the seal of the letter that Andy'sblundering had so long delayed. It was from his law-agent on the subjectof an expected election in the county, which would occur in case of thedemise of the then sitting member;--it ran thus:

 "Dublin, _Thursday_. 

 "My dear Squire, --I am making all possible exertions to have every and the earliest information on the subject of the election. I say the election, --because, though the seat of the county is not yet vacant, it is impossible but that it must soon be so. Any other man than the present member must have died long ago; but Sir Timothy Trimmer has been so undecided all his life that he cannot at present make up his mind to die; and it is only by Death himself giving the casting vote that the question can be decided. The writ for the vacant county is expected to arrive by every mail, and in the meantime I am on the alert for information. You know we are sure of the barony of Ballysloughgutthery, and the boys of Killanmaul will murder any one that dares to give a vote against you. We are sure of Knockdoughty also, and the very pigs in Glanamuck would return you; but I must put you on your guard on one point where you least expected to be betrayed. You told me you were sure of Neck-or-nothing Hall; but I can tell you you're out there; for the master of the aforesaid is working heaven, earth, ocean, and all the little fishes, in the other interest; for he is so over head and ears in debt, that he is looking out for a pension, and hopes to get one by giving his interest to the Honourable Sackville Scatterbrain, who sits for the Borough of Old Goosebery at present, but whose friends think his talents are worthy of a county. If Sack wins, Neck-or-nothing gets a pension--that's _poz_. I had it from the best authority. I lodge at a milliner's here:--no matter; more when I see you. But don't be afraid; we'll bag Sack, and distance Neck-or-nothing. But, seriously speaking, it's too good a joke that O'Grady should use you in this manner, who have been so kind to him in money matters: but, as the old song says, 'Poverty parts good company;' and he is so cursed poor that he can't afford to know you any longer, now that you have lent him all the money you had, and the pension _in prospectu_ is too much for his feelings. I'll be down with you again as soon as I can, for I hate the diabolical town as I do poison. They have altered Stephen's Green--_ruined_ it I should say. They have taken away the big ditch that was round it, where I used to hunt water-rats when a boy. They are destroying the place with their d----d improvements. All the dogs are well, I hope, and my favourite bitch. Remember me to Mrs. Egan, whom all admire. 

 "My dear squire, yours per quire, "Murtough Murphy. 

 "_To Edward Egan, Esq. , Merryvale. _"

Murtough Murphy was a great character, as may be guessed from hisletter. He was a country attorney of good practice; good, because hecould not help it--for he was a clever, ready-witted fellow, up to allsorts of trap, and one in whose hands a cause was very safe; thereforehe had plenty of clients without his seeking them. For if Murtough'spractice had depended on his looking for it, he might have made brothof his own parchment; for though to all intents and purposes a goodattorney, he was so full of fun and fond of amusement, that it wasonly by dint of the business being thrust upon him he was so extensivea practitioner. He loved a good bottle, a good hunt, a good joke, anda good song, as well as any fellow in Ireland: and even when he wasobliged in the way of business to press a gentleman hard--to hunt hisman to the death--he did it so good-humouredly that his very victimcould not be angry with him. As for those he served, he was theirprime favourite; there was nothing they _could_ want to be done in theparchment line, that Murtough would not find out some way of doing;and he was so pleasant a fellow, that he shared in the hospitality ofall the best tables in the county. He kept good horses, was on everyrace-ground within twenty miles, and a steeple-chase was nosteeple-chase without him. Then he betted freely, and, what's more, won his bets very generally; but no one found fault with him for that, and he took your money with such a good grace, and mostly gave you a_bon mot_ in exchange for it--so that, next to winning the moneyyourself, you were glad it was won by Murtough Murphy. 

The squire read his letter two or three times, and made his commentsas he proceeded. "'Working heaven and earth to'--ha!--so that's thework O'Grady's at--that's old friendship, --foul!--foul! and after allthe money I lent him, too;--he'd better take care--I'll be down on himif he plays false;--not that I'd like that much either:--but--let'ssee who's this coming down to oppose me?--Sack Scatterbrain--thebiggest fool from this to himself;--the fellow can't ride a bit, --apretty member for a sporting county! 'I lodge at a milliner's'--divildoubt you, Murtough; I'll engage you do. Bad luck to him!--he'd ratherbe fooling away his time in a back parlour, behind a bonnet shop, thanminding the interests of the county. 'Pension'--ha!--wants it sureenough;--take care, O'Grady, or, by the powers, I'll be at you. Youmay baulk all the bailiffs, and defy any other man to serve you with awrit; but, by jingo! if I take the matter in hand, I'll be bound I'llget it done. 'Stephen's Green--big ditch--where I used to huntwater-rats. ' Divil sweep you, Murphy, you'd rather be huntingwater-rats any day than minding your business. He's a clever fellowfor all that. 'Favourite bitch--Mrs. Egan. '--Aye! there's the end ofit--with his bit o' po'thry, too! The divil!"

The squire threw down the letter, and then his eye caught the othertwo that Andy had purloined. 

"More of that stupid blackguard's work!--robbing the mail--no less!--thatfellow will be hanged some time or other. Egad, may be they'll hang himfor this! What's best to be done? May be it will be the safest way tosee whom they are for, and send them to the parties, and request theywill say nothing: that's it. "

The squire here took up the letters that lay before him, to read theirsuperscriptions; and the first he turned over was directed to GustavusGranby O'Grady, Esq. , Neck-or-nothing Hall, Knockbotherum. This waswhat is called a curious coincidence. Just as he had been reading allabout O'Grady's intended treachery to him, here was a letter to thatindividual, and with the Dublin post-mark too, and a very grand seal. 

The squire examined the arms; and, though not versed in the mysteriesof heraldry, he thought he remembered enough of most of the arms he hadseen to say that this armorial bearing was a strange one to him. Heturned the letter over and over again, and looked at it back and front, with an expression in his face that said, as plain as countenance couldspeak, "I'd give a trifle to know what is inside of this. " He looked atthe seal again: "Here's a--goose, I think it is, sitting on a bowl withcross-bars on it, and a spoon in its mouth: like the fellow that ownsit, may be. A goose with a silver spoon in its mouth--well, here's thegable-end of a house, and a bird sitting on the top of it. Could it beSparrow? There is a fellow called Sparrow, an under-secretary at theCastle. D----n it! I wish I knew what it's about. "

The squire threw down the letter as he said, "D----n it!" but took it upagain in a few seconds, and catching it edgewise between his forefingerand thumb, gave a gentle pressure that made the letter gape at itsextremities, and then, exercising that sidelong glance which is peculiarto postmasters, waiting-maids, and magpies who inspect marrowbones, peeped into the interior of the epistle, saying to himself as he did so, "All's fair in war, and why not in electioneering?" His face, which wasscrewed up to the scrutinising pucker, gradually lengthened as he caughtsome words that were on the last turn-over of the sheet, and so could beread thoroughly, and his brow darkened into the deepest frown as hescanned these lines: "As you very properly and pungently remark, poorEgan is a spoon--a mere spoon. " "Am I a spoon, you rascal?" said thesquire, tearing the letter into pieces, and throwing it into the fire. "And so, _Misther_ O'Grady, you say I'm a spoon!" and the blood of theEgans rose as the head of that pugnacious family strode up and down theroom: "I'll spoon you, my buck!--I'll settle your hash! may be I'm aspoon you'll sup sorrow with yet!"

Here he took up the poker, and made a very angry lunge at the fire thatdid not want stirring, and there he beheld the letter blazing merrilyaway. He dropped the poker as if he had caught it by the hot end, as heexclaimed, "What the d----l shall I do? I've burnt the letter!" Thisthrew the squire into a fit of what he was wont to call his"considering cap;" and he sat with his feet on the fender for someminutes, occasionally muttering to himself what he began with, --"Whatthe d----l shall I do? It's all owing to that infernal Andy--I'llmurder that fellow some time or other. If he hadn't brought it--Ishouldn't have seen it, to be sure, if I hadn't looked; but then thetemptation--a saint couldn't have withstood it. Confound it! what astupid trick to burn it! Another here, too--must burn that as well, andsay nothing about either of them:" and he took up the second letter, and, merely looking at the address, threw it into the fire. He thenrang the bell, and desired Andy to be sent to him. As soon as thatingenious individual made his appearance, the squire desired him, withpeculiar emphasis, to shut the door, and then opened upon him with--

"You unfortunate rascal!"

"Yis, your honour. "

"Do you know that you might be hanged for what you did to-day?"

"What did I do, sir?"

"You robbed the post-office. "

"How did I rob it, sir?"

"You took two letters that you had no right to. "

"It's no robbery for a man to get the worth of his money. "

"Will you hold your tongue, you stupid villain! I'm not joking: youabsolutely might be hanged for robbing the post-office. "

"Sure I didn't know there was any harm in what I done; and for thatmatther sure, if they're sitch wonderful value, can't I go back againwid 'em?"

"No, you thief! I hope you've not said a word to any one about it. "

"Not the sign of a word passed my lips about it. "

"You're sure?"

"Sartin!"

"Take care, then, that you never open your mouth to mortal about it, oryou'll be hanged, as sure as your name is Andy Rooney. "

"Oh! at that rate I never will. But may be your honour thinks I oughtto be hanged?"

"No, --because you did not intend to do a wrong thing; but, only I havepity on you, I could hang you to-morrow for what you have done. "

"Thank you, sir. "

"I've burnt the letters, so no one can know anything about the businessunless you tell on yourself: so remember, --not a word. "

"Faith, I'll be dumb as the dumb baste. "

"Go now; and once for all, remember you'll be hanged so sure as youever mention one word about this affair. "

Andy made a bow and a scrape, and left the squire, who hoped the secretwas safe. He then took a ruminating walk round the pleasure-grounds, revolving plans of retaliation upon his false friend O'Grady; andhaving determined to put the most severe and sudden measure of the lawin force against him, for the money in which he was indebted to him, heonly awaited the arrival of Murtough Murphy from Dublin to execute hisvengeance. Having settled this in his own mind, he became morecontented, and said, with a self-satisfied nod of the head, "We'll seewho's the spoon. "

In a few days Murtough Murphy returned from Dublin, and to Merryvale heimmediately proceeded. The squire opened to him directly his intentionof commencing hostile law proceedings against O'Grady, and asked whatmost summary measures could be put in practice against him. 

"Oh! various, various, my dear squire, " said Murphy; "but I don't seeany great use in doing so _yet_--he has not openly avowed himself. "

"But does he not intend to coalesce with the order party?"

"I believe so--that is, if he's to get the pension. "

"Well, and that's as good as done, you know; for if they want him, thepension is easily managed. "

"I am not so sure of that. "

"Why, they're as plenty as blackberries. "

"Very true; but, you see, Lord Gobblestown swallows all the pensionsfor his own family; and there are a great many complaints in the marketagainst him for plucking that blackberry-bush very bare indeed; andunless Sack Scatterbrain has swingeing interest, the pension may not besuch an easy thing. "

"But still O'Grady has shown himself not my friend. "

"My dear squire, don't be so hot; he has not _shown_ himself yet. "

"Well, but he means it. "

"My dear squire, you oughtn't to jump at a conclusion as you would at atwelve-foot drain or a five-bar gate. "

"Well, he's a blackguard!"

"No denying it; and therefore keep him on your side if you can, orhe'll be a troublesome customer on the other. "

"I'll keep no terms with him;--I'll slap at him directly. What can youdo that's wickedest?--latitat, capias--fee-faw-fum, or whatever youcall it?"

"Halloo! squire, your overrunning your game: may be after all, he_won't_ join the Scatterbrains, and----"

"I tell you it's no matter; he intended doing it, and that's all thesame. I'll slap at him--I'll blister him!"

Murtough Murphy wondered at this blind fury of the squire, who, being agood-humoured and good-natured fellow in general, puzzled the attorneythe more by his present manifest malignity against O'Grady. But _he_had not seen the turn-over of the letter: he had not seen "spoon, "--thereal and secret cause of the "war-to-the-knife" spirit which was kindledin the squire's breast. 

"Of course, you can do what you please; but, if you'd take a friend'sadvice----"

"I tell you I'll blister him. "

"He certainly _bled_ you very freely. "

"I'll blister him, I tell you, and that smart. Lose no time, Murphy, myboy: let loose the dogs of law on him, and harass him till he'd wishthe d----l had him. "

"Just as you like, but----"

"I'll have it my own way, I tell you; so say no more. "

"I'll commence against him at once, then, as you wish it; but it's nouse, for you know very well that it will be impossible to serve him. "

"Let me alone for that! I'll be bound I'll find fellows to get theinside of him. "

"Why, his house is barricaded like a jail, and he has dogs enough tobait all the bulls in the country. "

"No matter: just send me the blister for him, and I'll engage I'llstick it on him. "

"Very well, squire; you shall have the blister as soon as it can be gotready. I'll tell you when you may send over to me for it, and yourmessenger shall have it hot and warm for him. Good bye, squire. "

"Good bye, Murphy!--lose no time. "

"In the twinkling of a bedpost. Are you going to Tom Durfy'ssteeple-chase?"

"I'm not sure. "

"I've a bet on it. Did you see the widow Flannagan lately? You didn't?They say Tom's pushing it strong there. The widow has money, you know, and Tom does it all for the love o' God; for you know, squire, there aretwo things God hates--a coward and a poor man. Now, Tom's no coward;and, that he may be sure of the love o' God on the other score, he'smaking up to the widow; and as he's a slashing fellow, she's nothingloth, and, for fear of any one cutting him out, Tom keeps as sharp alookout after her as she does after him. He's fierce on it, and lookspistols at any one that attempts putting his _comether_ on the widow, while she looks 'as soon as you plaze, ' as plain as an optical lecturecan enlighten the heart of man: in short, Tom's all ram's horns, and thewidow all sheep's eyes. Good bye, squire. " And Murtough put his spurs tohis horse, and cantered down the avenue, whistling the last populartune. 

Andy was sent over to Murtough Murphy's for the law process at theappointed time; and as he had to pass through the village, Mrs. Egandesired him to call at the apothecary's for some medicine that wasprescribed for one of the children. 

"What'll I ax for, ma'am?"

"I'd be sorry to trust to you, Andy, for remembering. Here's theprescription; take care of it, and Mr. M'Garry will give you somethingto bring back; and mind, if it's a powder----"

"Is it gunpowdher, ma'am?"

"No--you stupid--will you listen? I say, if it's a powder, don't let itget wet as you did the sugar the other day. "

"No, ma'am. "

"And if it's a bottle, don't break it, as you did the last. "

"No, ma'am. "

"And make haste. "

"Yis, ma'am;" and off went Andy. 

In going through the village, he forgot to leave the prescription atthe apothecary's and pushed on for the attorney's: there he sawMurtough Murphy, who handed him the law process, inclosed in a cover, with a note to the squire. 

"Have you been doing anything very clever lately, Andy?" said Murtough. 

"I don't know, sir, " said Andy. 

"Did you shoot any one with soda-water since I saw you last?"

Andy grinned. 

"Did you kill any more dogs lately, Andy?"

"Faix, you're too hard on me, sir; sure I never killed but one dog, andthat was an accident----"

"An accident!--curse your impudence, you thief! Do you think, if youkilled one of the pack on purpose, we wouldn't cut the very heart o'you with our hunting whips?"

"Faith, I wouldn't doubt you, sir; but, sure, how could I help thatdivil of a mare runnin' away wid me, and thramplin' the dogs?"

"Why didn't you hold her, you thief?"

"Hould her, indeed!--you just might as well expect to stop fire amongflax as that one. "

"Well, be off with you now, Andy, and take care of what I gave you forthe squire. "

"Oh, never fear, sir, " said Andy, as he turned his horse's headhomewards. He stopped at the apothecary's in the village, to executehis commission for the "misthis. " On telling the son of Galen that hewanted some physic "for one o' the childre up at the big house, " thedispenser of the healing art asked _what_ physic he wanted. 

"Faith, I dunna what physic. "

"What's the matter with the child?"

"He's sick, sir. "

"I suppose so, indeed, or you wouldn't be sent for medicine, you'realways making some blunder. You come here, and don't know whatdescription of medicine is wanted. "

"Don't I?" said Andy, with a great air. 

"No, you don't, you omadhaun!" said the apothecary. 

Andy fumbled in his pockets, and could not lay hold of the paper hismistress entrusted him with, until he had emptied them thoroughly oftheir contents upon the counter of the shop; and then, taking theprescription from the collection, he said, "So you tell me I don't knowthe description of the physic I'm to get. Now, you see, you're out; for_that's_ the _description_!" and he slapped the counter impressivelywith his hand as he threw down the recipe before the apothecary. 

While the medicine was in the course of preparation for Andy, hecommenced restoring to his pockets the various parcels he had takenfrom them in hunting for the recipe. Now, it happened that he had laidthem down close beside some articles that were compounded, and sealedup for going out, on the apothecary's counter: and as the law processwhich Andy had received from Murtough Murphy chanced to resemble inform another inclosure that lay beside it, containing a blister, Andy, under the influence of his peculiar genius, popped the blister into hispocket instead of the package which had been confided to him by theattorney, and having obtained the necessary medicine from M'Garry, rodehome with great self-complacency that he had not forgot to do a singlething that had been entrusted to him. "I'm all right this time, " saidAndy to himself. 

Scarcely had he left the apothecary's when another messenger alightedat its door, and asked "If Squire O'Grady's things _was_ ready?"

"There they are, " said the innocent M'Garry, pointing to the bottles, boxes, and _blister_, he had made up and set aside, little dreamingthat the blister had been exchanged for a law process: and SquireO'Grady's own messenger popped into his pocket the legal instrumentthat it was as much as any seven men's lives were worth to bring withingunshot of Neck-or-nothing Hall. 

Home he went, and the sound of the old gate creaking on its hinges atthe entrance of the avenue awoke the deep-mouthed dogs around thehouse, who rushed infuriate to the spot to devour the unholy intruderon the peace and privacy of the patrician O'Grady; but they recognisedthe old grey hack and his rider, and quietly wagged their tails andtrotted back, and licked their lips at the thoughts of the bailiff theyhad hoped to eat. The door of Neck-or-nothing Hall was carefullyunbarred and unchained, and the nurse-tender was handed the parcel fromthe apothecary's, and re-ascended to the sick room with slippered footas quietly as she could; for the renowned O'Grady was, according to heraccount, "as cross as two sticks;" and she protested, furthermore, "that her heart was grey with him. "

Whenever O'Grady was in a bad humour, he had a strange fashion ofcatching at some word that either he himself, or those with whom hespoke, had uttered, and after often repeating it, or rather mumbling itover in his mouth, as if he were chewing it, off he started into acanter of ridiculous rhymes to the aforesaid word, and sometimes one ofthese rhymes would suggest a new idea, or some strange associationwhich had the oddest effect possible; and to increase the absurdity, the jingle was gone through with as much solemnity as if he wereindulging in a deep and interesting reverie, so that it was difficultto listen without laughing, which might prove a serious matter whenO'Grady was in one of the _tantarums_, as his wife used to call them. 

Mrs. O'Grady was near the bed of the sick man as the nurse-tenderentered. 

"Here's the things for your honour, now, " said she, in her mostsoothing tone. 

"I wish the d----l had you and them!" said O'Grady. 

"Gusty, dear!" said his wife. (She might have said stormy instead ofgusty. )

"Oh! they'll do you good, your honour, " said the nurse-tender, curtsying, and uncorking bottles, and opening a pill-box. 

O'Grady made a face at the pill-box, and repeated the word"pills" several times, with an expression of extreme disgust. "Pills--pills--kills--wills--ay--make your wills--make them--takethem--shake them. When taken--to be well shaken--shew me that bottle. "

The nurse-tender handed a phial, which O'Grady shook violently. 

"Curse them all!" said the squire. "A pretty thing to have a gentleman'sbody made a perfect sink, for these blackguard doctors and apothecariesto pour their dirty drugs into--faugh! drugs--mugs--jugs!" he shook thephial again, and looked through it. 

"Isn't it nice and pink, darlin'?" said the nurse-tender. 

"Pink!" said O'Grady eying her askance, as if he could have eaten her. "Pink, you old besom, pink"--he uncorked the phial, and put it to hisnose. "Pink--phew--!" and he repeated a rhyme to pink which would notlook well in print. 

"Now, sir, dear, there's a little blisther just to go on your chest--ifyou plaze. "

"A _what_?"

"A warm plasther, dear. "

"A _blister_ you said, you old _divil_!"

"Well, sure its something to relieve you. "

The squire gave a deep growl, and his wife put in the usual appeal of"Gusty, dear!"

"Hold you tongue, will you? How would _you_ like it? I wish you had iton your----"

"Deed-an-deed, dear, " said the nurse-tender. 

"By the 'ternal war! if you say another word, I'll throw the jug atyou!"

"And there's a nice dhrop o' gruel I have on the fire for you, " saidthe nurse, pretending not to mind the rising anger of the squire, asshe stirred the gruel with one hand, while with the other she markedherself with the sign of the cross, and said in a mumbling manner, "Godpresarve us! he's the most cantankerous Christian I ever kem across!"

"Shew me that infernal thing!" said the squire. 

"What thing, dear?"

"You know well enough, you old hag!--that blackguard blister!"

"Here it is, dear. Now just open the _burst_ o' your shirt, and let meput it an you. "

"Give it into my hand here, and let me see it. "

"Sartinly, sir;--but I think, if you'd let me just----"

"Give it to me, I tell you!" said the squire, in a tone so fierce thatthe nurse paused in her unfolding of the packet, and handed it withfear and trembling to the already indignant O'Grady. But it is onlyimagination can figure the outrageous fury of the squire when, onopening the envelope with his own hand, he beheld the law processbefore him. There, in the heart of his castle, with his bars, andbolts, and bull-dogs, and blunderbusses around him, he wasserved--absolutely served--and he had no doubt the nurse-tender wasbribed to betray him. 

A roar and a jump up in bed, first startled his wife into terror, andput the nurse on the defensive. 

"You infernal old strap!" shouted he, as he clutched up a handful ofbottles on the table near him and flung them at the nurse, who was nearthe fire at the time: and she whipped the pot of gruel from the grate, and converted it into a means of defence against the phial-peltingstorm. 

Mrs. O'Grady rolled herself up in the bed-curtains while the nursescreeched "Murther!" and at last, when O'Grady saw that bottles were ofno avail, he scrambled out of bed, shouting, "Where's my blunderbuss?"and the nurse-tender, while he endeavoured to get it down from the rackwhere it was suspended over the mantel-piece, bolted out of the doorand ran to the most remote corner of the house for shelter. 

In the meantime, how fared it at Merryvale. Andy returned with hisparcel for the squire, and his note from Murtough Murphy, which ranthus:--

 * * * * *

 "My Dear Squire, --I send you the _blister_ for O'Grady as you insist on it; but I think you won't find it easy to serve him with it. --Your obedient and obliged, "Murtough Murphy. 

 "_To Edward Egan, Esq. , Merryvale. _"

 * * * * *

The squire opened the cover, and when he saw a real instead of afigurative blister, grew crimson with rage. He could not speak for someminutes, his indignation was so excessive. "So, " said he at last, "Mr. Murtough Murphy, you think to cut your jokes with me, do you? By allthat's sacred, I'll cut such a joke on you with the biggest horsewhip Ican find, that you'll remember it. '_Dear Squire, I send you theblister. _' Bad luck to your impidence! Wait till awhile ago--that'sall. By this and that, you'll get such a blistering from me, that allthe spermaceti in M'Garry's shop won't cure you. "

CHAPTER III

Squire Egan was as good as his word. He picked out the most suitablehorsewhip for chastising the fancied impertinence of Murtough Murphy;and as he switched it up and down with a powerful arm, to try itsweight and pliancy, the whistling of the instrument through the air wasmusic to his ears, and whispered of promised joy in the flagellation ofthe jocular attorney. 

"We'll see who can make the sorest blister, " said the squire. 

"I'll back whalebone against Spanish flies any day. Will you bet, Dick?" said he to his brother-in-law, who was a wild, helter-skeltersort of fellow, better known over the country as Dick the Divil thanDick Dawson. 

"I'll back your bet, Ned. "

"There's no fun in that, Dick, as there is nobody to take it up. "

"May be Murtough will. Ask him before you thrash him: you'd better. "

"As for _him_" said the squire, "I'll be bound he'll back my betafter he gets a taste o' this;" and the horsewhip whistled as he spoke. 

"I think he had better take care of his back than his bet, " said Dickas he followed the squire to the hall-door, where his horse was inwaiting for him, under the care of the renowned Andy, who littledreamed of the extensive harvest of mischief which was ripening infuturity, all from his sowing. 

"Don't kill him quite, Ned, " said Dick, as the squire mounted to hissaddle. 

"Why, if I went to horsewhip a gentleman, of course I should only shakemy whip at him; but an attorney is another affair. And, as I'm surehe'll have an action against me for assault, I think I may as well getthe worth of my money out of him, to say nothing of teaching him bettermanners for the future than to play off his jokes on his employers. "With these words off he rode in search of the devoted Murtough, who wasnot at home when the squire reached his house; but as he was returningthrough the village, he espied him coming down the street in companywith Tom Durfy and the widow, who were laughing heartily at some jokeMurtough was telling them, which seemed to amuse him as much as hishearers. 

"I'll make him laugh at the wrong side of his mouth, " thought thesquire, alighting and giving his horse to the care of one of the littleragged boys who were idling in the street. He approached Murphy with avery threatening aspect, and confronting him and his party so as toproduce a halt, he said, as distinctly as his rage would permit him tospeak, "You little insignificant blackguard, I'll teach you how you'llcut your jokes on _me_ again; _I'll_ blister you, my buck!" and layinghands on the astonished Murtough with the last word, he began a verysmart horsewhipping of the attorney. The widow screamed, Tom Durfyswore, and Murtough roared, with some interjectional curses. At last heescaped from the squire's grip, leaving the lappel of his coat in hispossession; and Tom Durfy interposed his person between them when hesaw an intention on the part of the flagellator to repeat his dose ofhorsewhip. 

"Let me at him, sir, or by----"

"Fie, fie, squire!--to horsewhip a gentleman like a cart-horse. "

"A gentleman!--an attorney you mean. "

"I say a gentleman, Squire Egan, " cried Murtough fiercely, roused togallantry by the presence of a lady, and smarting under a sense ofinjury and whalebone. "I'm a gentleman, sir, and demand thesatisfactionof a gentleman. I put my honour into your hands, Mr. Durfy. "

"Between his finger and thumb, you mean, for there's not a handful ofit, " said the squire. 

"Well, sir, " replied Tom Durfy, "little or much, I'll take charge ofit. That's right, my cock, " said he to Murtough, who notwithstandinghis desire to assume a warlike air, could not resist the naturalimpulse of rubbing his back and shoulders which tingled with pain, while he exclaimed, "Satisfaction! satisfaction!"

"Very well, " said the squire, "you name yourself as Mr. Murphy'sfriend?" added he to Durfy. 

"The same, sir, " said Tom. "Whom do you name as yours?"

"I suppose you know one Dick the Divil?"

"A very proper person, sir;--no better: I'll go to him directly. "

The widow clung to Tom's arm, and looking tenderly at him, cried, "Oh, Tom, Tom, take care of your precious life!"

"Bother!" said Tom. 

"Ah, Squire Egan, don't be so bloodthirsty!"

"Fudge, woman!" said the squire. 

"Ah, Mr. Murphy, I'm sure the squire's very sorry for beating you. "

"Divil a bit, " said the squire. 

"There, ma'am, " said Murphy, "you see he'll make no apology. "

"Apology!" said Durfy, "apology for a horsewhipping, indeed! Nothingbut handing a horsewhip (which I wouldn't ask any gentleman to do), ora shot, can settle the matter. "

"Oh, Tom! Tom! Tom!" said the widow. 

"Ba! ba! ba!" shouted Tom, making a crying face at her. "Arrah, woman, don't be making a fool of yourself. Go in to the 'pothecary's, and getsomething under your nose to revive you: and let _us_ mind our _own_business. "

The widow with her eyes turned up, and an exclamation to Heaven, wasretiring to M'Garry's shop, wringing her hands, when she was nearlyknocked down by M'Garry himself, who rushed from his own door, at thesame moment that an awful smash of his shop-window and the demolitionof his blue and red bottles alarmed the ears of the bystanders, whiletheir eyes were drawn from the late belligerent parties to a chasewhich took place down the street of the apothecary, roaring "Murder!"followed by Squire O'Grady with an enormous cudgel. 

O'Grady, believing that M'Garry and the nurse-tender had combined toserve him with a writ, determined to wreak double vengeance on theapothecary, as the nurse had escaped him; and, notwithstanding all hisillness and the appeals of his wife, he left his bed and rode to thevillage, to "break every bone in M'Garry's skin. " When he entered theshop, the pharmacopolist was much surprised, and said, with acongratulatory grin at the great man, "Dear me, Squire O'Grady, I'mdelighted to see you. "

"Are you, you scoundrel!" said the squire, making a blow of his cudgelat him, which was fended off by an iron pestle the apothecaryfortunately had in his hand. The enraged O'Grady made a rush behind thecounter, which the apothecary nimbly jumped over, crying, "Murder!" ashe made for the door, followed by his pursuer, who gave a back-handedslap at the window-bottles _en passant_, and produced the crash whichastonished the widow, who now joined her screams to the general hue andcry; for an indiscriminate chase of all the ragamuffins in the town, with barking curs and screeching children, followed the flight ofM'Garry and the pursuing squire. 

"What the divil is all this about?" said Tom Durfy, laughing. "By thepowers! I suppose there's something in the weather to produce all thisfun--though it's early in the year to begin thrashing, for the harvestisn't in yet. But, however, let us manage our little affair, now thatwe're left in peace and quietness, for the blackguards are all over thebridge after the hunt. I'll go to Dick the Divil immediately, squire, and arrange time and place. "

"There's nothing like saving time and trouble on these occasions, " saidthe squire. "Dick is at my house, I can arrange time and place with youthis minute, and he will be on the ground with me. "

"Very well, " said Tom; "where is it to be?"

"Suppose we say the cross-roads, halfway between this and Merryvale?There's very pretty ground there, and we shall be able to get ourpistols and all that ready in the meantime between this and fouro'clock--and it will be pleasanter to have it all over before dinner. "

"Certainly, squire, " said Tom Durfy; "we'll be there at four. Tillthen, good morning, squire;" and he and his man walked off. 

The widow, in the meantime, had been left to the care of theapothecary'sboy, whose tender mercies were now, for the first time in his life, demanded towards a fainting lady; for the poor raw country lad, havingto do with a sturdy peasantry in every-day matters, had never beforeseen the capers cut by a lady who thinks it proper, and delicate, andbecoming, to display her sensibility in a swoon; and truly her sobs, and small screeches, and little stampings and kickings, amazed younggallipot. Smelling salts were applied;--they were rather weak, so thewidow inhaled the pleasing odour with a sigh, but did not recover. Salvolatile was next put into requisition;--this was something stronger, and made her wriggle on her chair, and throw her head about with sundry"Ohs!" and "Ahs!" The boy, beginning to be alarmed at the extent of thewidow's syncope, bethought himself of assafoetida; and, taking down agoodly bottle of that sweet-smelling stimulant, gave the widow thebenefit of the whole jar under her nose. Scarcely had the stopper beenwithdrawn, when she gave a louder screech than she had yet executed, and exclaiming "Faugh!" with an expression of the most concentrateddisgust, opened her eyes fiercely upon the offender, and shut up hernose between her forefinger and thumb against the offence, and snuffledforth at the astonished boy, "Get out o' that, you dirty cur! Can't youlet a lady faint in peace and quietness? Gracious Heavens! would yousmother me, you nasty brute? Oh, Tom, where are you?" and she took tosobbing forth "Tom! Tom!" and put her handkerchief to her eyes, to hidethe tears that were _not_ there, while from behind the corner of thecambric she kept a sharp eye on the street, and observed what was goingon. She went on acting her part very becomingly, until the moment TomDurfy walked off with Murphy; but then she could feign no longer, andjumping up from her seat, with an exclamation of "The brute!" she ranto the door, and looked down the street after them. "The savage!"sobbed the widow; "the hardhearted monster! to abandon me here todie--oh! to use me so--to leave me like a--like a"--(the widow was fondof similes)--"like an old shoe--like a dirty glove--like a--like Idon't know what!" (the usual fate of similes). "Mister Durfy, I'llpunish you for this--I will!" said the widow, with an energeticemphasis on the last word; and she marched out of the shop, boilingover with indignation, through which nevertheless, a little bubble oflove now and then rose to the surface; and by the time she reached herown door, love predominated, and she sighed as she laid her hand on theknocker: "After all, if the dear fellow should be killed, what wouldbecome of me!--oh!--and that wretch, Dick Dawson, too--_two_ of them. The worst of these merry devils is they are always fighting. "

The squire had ridden immediately homewards, and told Dick Dawson thepiece of work that was before them. 

"And so he will have a shot at you, instead of an action?" said Dick. "Well there's pluck in that: I wish he was more of a gentleman, foryour sake. It's dirty work, shooting attorneys. "

"He's enough of a gentleman, Dick, to make it impossible for me torefuse him. "

"Certainly, Ned, " said Dick. 

"Do you know, is he anything of a shot?"

"Faith, he makes very pretty snipe shooting; but I don't know if he hasexperience of the grass before breakfast. "

"You must try and find out from some one on the ground; because, if thepoor divil isn't a good shot, I wouldn't like to kill him, and I'll lethim off easy--I'll give it to him in the pistol-arm, or so. "

"Very well, Ned. Where are the flutes? I must look over them. "

"Here, " said the squire, producing a very handsome mahogany case ofRigby's best. Dick opened the case with the utmost care, and took upone of the pistols tenderly, handling it as delicately as if it were ayoung child or a lady's hand. He clicked the lock back and forward afew times; and, his ear not being satisfied at the music it produced, he said he should like to examine them: "At all events they want atouch of oil. "

"Well, keep them out of the misthriss' sight, Dick, for she might bealarmed. "

"Divil a taste, " says Dick; "she's a Dawson, and there never was aDawson yet that did not know men must be men. "

"That's true, Dick. I would not mind so much if she wasn't in a delicatesituation just now, when it couldn't be expected of the woman to be sostout; so go, like a good fellow, into your own room, and Andy willbring you anything you want. "

Five minutes after, Dick was engaged in cleaning the duelling pistols, and Andy at his elbow, with his mouth wide open, wondering at theinterior of the locks which Dick had just taken off. 

"Oh, my heavens! but that's a quare thing, Misther Dick, sir, " saidAndy, going to take it up. 

"Keep your fingers off it, you thief, do!" roared Dick, making a rap ofthe turnscrew at Andy's knuckles. 

"Shure, I'll save you the trouble o' rubbin' that, Misther Dick, if youlet me; here's the shabby leather. "

"I wouldn't let your clumsy fist near it, Andy, nor your _shabby_leather, you villain, for the world. Go get me some oil. "

Andy went on his errand, and returned with a can of lamp-oil to Dick, who swore at him for his stupidity; "The divil fly away with you!--younever do anything right; you bring me lamp-oil for a pistol. "

"Well, sure I thought lamp-oil was the right thing for burnin'. "

"And who wants to burn it, you savage?"

"Aren't you going to fire it, sir?"

"Choke you, you vagabond, " said Dick, who could not resist laughing, nevertheless; "be off, and get me some sweet oil; but don't tell anyone what it's for. "

Andy retired, and Dick pursued his polishing of the locks. Why he usedsuch a blundering fellow as Andy for a messenger might be wondered at, only that Dick was fond of fun, and Andy's mistakes were a particularsource of amusement to him, and on all occasions when he could haveAndy in his company he made him his attendant. When the sweet oil wasproduced, Dick looked about for a feather; but, not finding one, desired Andy to fetch him a pen. Andy went on his errand, and returned, after some delay, with an ink bottle. 

"I brought you the ink, sir; but I can't find a pin. "

"Confound your numskull! I didn't say a word about ink--I asked for apen. "

"And what use would a pin be without ink, now I ax yourself, MistherDick?"

"I'd knock your brains out if you had any, you _omadhaun_! Go along, and get me a feather, and make haste. "

Andy went off, and having obtained a feather, returned to Dick, whobegan to tip certain portions of the lock very delicately with oil. 

"What's that for, Misther Dick, sir, if you plaze?"

"To make it work smooth. "

"And what's that thing you're grazin' now, sir?"

"That's the tumbler. "

"O Lord! a tumbler--what a quare name for it. I thought there was notumbler but a tumbler for punch. "

"That's the tumbler you would like to be cleaning the inside of, Andy. "

"Thrue for you, sir. And what's that little thing you have your hand onnow, sir?"

"That's the cock. "

"Oh, dear, a cock! Is there e'er a hin in it, sir?"

"No, nor a chicken either, though there _is_ a feather. "

"The one in your hand, sir, that you're grazin' it with?"

"No: but this little thing--that is called the feather-spring. "

"It's the feather, I suppose, makes it let fly. "

"No doubt of it, Andy. "

"Well, there's some sinse in that name, then; but who'd think of sich athing as a tumbler and a cock in a pistle? And what's that place thatopen and shuts, sir?"

"The pan. "

"Well, there's sinse in that name too, bekase there's fire in the thing;and it's as nath'ral to say pan to that as to a fryin'-pan--isn't it, Misther Dick?"

"Oh! there was a great gunmaker lost in you, Andy, " said Dick, as hescrewed on the locks, which he had regulated to his mind, and began toexamine the various departments of the pistol-case, to see that it wasproperly provided. He took the instrument to cut some circles of thinleather, and Andy again asked him for the name o' _that_ thing?

"This is called the punch, Andy. "

"So there is the punch as well as the tumbler, sir. "

"Ay, and very strong punch it is, you see, Andy;" and Dick, struck itwith his little mahogany mallet, and cut his patches of leather. 

"And what's that for, sir?--the leather I mane. "

"That's for putting round the ball. "

"Is it for fear 't would hurt him too much when you shot him. "

"You're a queer customer, Andy, " said Dick, smiling. 

"And what weeshee little balls thim is, sir. "

"They are always small for duelling-pistols. "

"Oh, then _thim_ is jewellin' pistles. Why, musha, Misther Dick, is itgoin' to fight a jule you are?" said Andy, looking at him with earnestness. 

"No, Andy, but the master is; but don't say a word about it. "

"Not a word for the world. The masther's goin' to fight! God send himsafe out iv it! amin. And who is he going to fight, Misther Dick?"

"Murphy, the attorney, Andy. "

"Oh, won't the masther disgrace himself by fightin' the 'torney?"

"How dare you say such a thing of your master?"

"I ax your pard'n, Misther Dick: but sure you know what I mane. I hopehe'll shoot him. "

"Why, Andy, Murtough was always very good to you, and now you wish himto be shot. "

"Sure, why wouldn't I rather have him kilt more than the masther?"

"But neither may be killed. "

"Misther Dick, " said Andy, lowering his voice, "wouldn't it be aniligant thing to put two balls into the pistle instead o' one, and givethe masther a chance over the 'torney?"

"Oh, you murdherous villain!"

"Arrah! why shouldn't the masther have a chance over him!--sure he haschildre, and 'Torney Murphy has none. "

"At any rate, Andy, I suppose you'd give the masther a ball additionalfor every child he has, and that would make eight. So you might as wellgive him a blunderbuss and slugs at once. "

Dick loaded the pistol-case, having made all right, and desired Andy tomount a horse, carry it by a back road out of the demesne, and wait ata certain gate he named until he should be joined there by himself andthe squire, who proceeded at the appointed time to the ground. 

Andy was all ready, and followed his master and Dick with great pride, bearing the pistol-case after them to the ground, where Murphy and TomDurfy were ready to receive them; and a great number of spectators wereassembled, for the noise of the business had gone abroad, and theground was in consequence crowded. 

Tom Durfy had warned Murtough Murphy, who had no experience as a pistolman, that the squire was a capital shot, and that his only chance wasto fire as quickly as he could. "Slap at him, Morty, my boy, the minuteyou get the word; and if you don't hit him itself, it will prevent hisdwelling on his aim. "

Tom Durfy and Dick the Devil soon settled the preliminaries of theground and mode of firing, and twelve paces having been marked, boththe seconds opened their pistol-cases and prepared to load. Andy wasclose to Dick all the time, kneeling beside the pistol-case, which layon the sod; and as Dick turned round to settle some other point onwhich Tom Durfy questioned him, Andy thought he might snatch theopportunity of giving his master "the chance" he suggested to hissecond. "Sure, if Misther Dick wouldn't like to do it, that's no raisonI wouldn't, " said Andy to himself, "and, by the powers! I'll pop in aball _onknownst_ to him. " And, sure enough, Andy contrived, while theseconds were engaged with each other, to put a ball into each pistolbefore the barrel was loaded with powder, so that when Dick took up hispistols to load, a bullet lay between the powder and the touch-hole. Now, this must have been discovered by Dick, had he been cool: but heand Tom Durfy had wrangled very much about the point they had beendiscussing, and Dick, at no time the quietest person in the world, wasin such a rage that the pistols were loaded by him without noticingAndy's ingenious interference, and he handed a harmless weapon to hisbrother-in-law when he placed him on his ground. 

The word was given. Murtough, following his friend's advice, firedinstantly--bang he went, while the squire returned but a flash in thepan. He turned a look of reproach upon Dick, who took the pistolsilently from him, and handed him the other, having carefully looked tothe priming after the accident which happened to the first. 

Durfy handed his man another pistol also; and before he left his side, said in a whisper, "Don't forget--have the first fire. "

Again the word was given. Murphy blazed away a rapid and harmless shot;for his hurry was the squire's safety, while Andy's murderousintentions were his salvation. 

"D----n the pistol!" said the squire, throwing it down in a rage. Dicktook it up with manifest indignation, and d----d the powder. 

"Your powder's damp, Ned. "

"No, it's not, " said the squire, "it's you who have bungled theloading. "

"Me!" said Dick, with a look of mingled rage and astonishment. "_I_bungle the loading of pistols! _I_, that have stepped more ground andarranged more affairs than any man in the country! Arrah, be aisy, Ned!"

Tom Durfy now interfered, and said for the present it was no matter, as, on the part of his friend, he begged to express himself satisfied. 

"But it's very hard _we_'re not to have a shot, " said Dick, poking thetouch-hole of the pistol with a pricker, which he had just taken fromthe case which Andy was holding before him. 

"Why, my dear Dick, " said Durfy, "as Murphy has had two shots, and thesquire has not had the return of either, he declares he will not fireat him again; and, under these circumstances, I must take my man offthe ground. "

"Very well, " said Dick, still poking the touch-hole, and examining thepoint of the pricker as he withdrew it. 

"And now Murphy wants to know, since the affair is all over and hishonour satisfied, what was your brother-in-law's motive in assaultinghim this morning, for he himself cannot conceive a cause for it. "

"Oh, be _aisy_, Tom. "

"'Pon my soul it's true!"

"Why, he sent him a blister--a regular apothecary's blister--instead ofsome law process, by way of a joke, and Ned wouldn't stand it. "

Durfy held a moment's conversation with Murphy, who now advanced to thesquire, and begged to assure him there must be some mistake in thebusiness, for that he had never committed the impertinence of which hewas accused. 

"All I know is, " said the squire, "that I got a blister, which mymessenger said you gave him. "

"By virtue of my oath, squire, I never did it! I gave Andy an enclosureof the law process. "

"Then it's some mistake that vagabond has made, " said the squire. "Comehere, you sir!" he shouted to Andy. Now Andy at this moment stoodtrembling under the angry eye of Dick the Devil, who, having detected abit of lead on the point of the pricker, guessed in a moment Andy hadbeen at work, and the unfortunate rascal, from the furious look ofDick, had a misgiving that he _had_ made some blunder. "Why don't youcome here when I call you?" said the squire. Andy laid down thepistol-case, and sneaked up to the squire. "What did you do with theletter Mr. Murphy gave you for me yesterday?"

"I brought it to your honour. "

"No, you didn't, " said Murphy. "You've made some mistake. "

"Divil a mistake I made, " answered Andy, very stoutly. "I wint home theminit you gev it to me. "

"Did you go home direct from my house to the squire's?"

"Yis, sir, I did--I went direct home, and called at Mr. M'Garry's bythe way for some physic for the childre. "

"That's it!" said Murtough; "he changed my enclosure for a blisterthere; and if M'Garry has only had the luck to send the bit o'parchment to O'Grady, it will be the best joke I've heard this month ofSundays. "

"He did! he did!" shouted Tom Durfy; "for don't you remember howO'Grady was after M'Garry this morning?"

"Sure enough, " said Murtough, enjoying the double mistake. "By dad!Andy, you've made a mistake this time that I'll forgive you. "

"By the powers o' war!" roared Dick the Devil; "I won't forgive himwhat he did now, though. What do you think?" said he, holding out thepistols, and growing crimson with rage, "may I never fire another shot, if he hasn't crammed a brace of bullets down the pistols before Iloaded them; so no wonder you burned prime, Ned. "

There was a universal laugh at Dick's expense, whose pride in beingconsidered the most accomplished regulator of the duello was wellknown. 

"Oh, Dick, Dick! you're a pretty second!" was shouted by all. 

Dick, stung by the laughter, and feeling keenly the ridiculous positionin which he was placed, made a rush at Andy, who, seeing the stormbrewing, gradually sneaked away from the group, and when he perceivedthe sudden movement of Dick the Devil, took to his heels, with Dickafter him. 

"Hurra!" cried Murphy, "a race--a race! I'll bet on Andy--five poundson Andy. "

"Done!" said the squire: "I'll back Dick the Divil. "

"Tare an' ouns!" roared Murphy, "how Andy runs! Fear's a fine spur. "

"So is rage, " said the squire. "Dick's hot-foot after him. Will youdouble the bet?"

"Done!" said Murphy. 

The infection of betting caught the bystanders, and various gages werethrown and taken up upon the speed of the runners, who were gettingrapidly into the distance, flying over hedge and ditch with surprisingvelocity, and, from the level nature of the ground, an extensive viewcould not be obtained, therefore Tom Durfy, the steeple-chaser, cried, "Mount, mount! or we'll lose the fun--into our saddles, and afterthem. "

Those who had steeds took the hint, and a numerous field of horsemenjoined in the pursuit of Handy Andy and Dick the Devil, who stillmaintained great speed. The horsemen made for a neighbouring hill, whence they could command a wider view; and the betting went onbriskly, varying according to the vicissitudes of the race. 

"Two to one on Dick--he's closing. "

"Done! Andy will wind him yet. "

"Well done--there's a leap! Hurra! Dick's down! Well done, Dick!--upagain and going. "

"Mind the next quickset hedge--that's a rasper, it's a wide gripe, andthe hedge is as thick as a wall--Andy'll stick in it--mind him--wellleaped, by the powers! Ha! he's sticking in the hedge--Dick'll catchhim now. No, by jingo! he's pushed his way through--there, he's goingagain on the other side. Ha! ha! ha! ha! look at him--he's in tatters!he has left half of his breeches in the hedge!"

"Dick is over now. Hurra! he has lost the skirt of his coat! Andy isgaining on him--two to one on Andy. "

"Down he goes!" was shouted as Andy's foot slipped in making a dash atanother ditch, into which he went head over heels, and Dick followedfast, and disappeared after him. 

"Ride! ride!" shouted Tom Durfy; and the horsemen put their spurs intothe flanks of their steeds, and were soon up to the scene of action. There was Andy, rolling over and over in the muddy bottom of a ditch, floundering in rank weeds and duck's meat, with Dick fastened on him, pummelling away most unmercifully, but not able to kill him altogether, for want of breath. 

The horsemen, in a universal _screech_ of laughter, dismounted, anddisengaged the unfortunate Andy from the fangs of Dick the Devil, whowas dragged out of the ditch much more like a scavenger than agentleman. 

The moment Andy got loose, away he ran again, with a rattling"Tally-ho!" after him, and he never cried stop till he earthed himselfunder his mother's bed in the parent cabin. 

Murtough Murphy characteristically remarked, that the affair of the dayhad taken a very whimsical turn;--"Here are you and I, squire, who wentout to shoot each other, safe and well, while one of the seconds hascome off rather worse for the wear; and a poor devil, who had nothingto say to the matter in hand, good, bad, or indifferent, is nearlykilled. "

The squire and Murtough then shook hands, and parted friends half anhour after they had met as foes; and even Dick contrived to forget hisannoyance in an extra stoup of claret that day after dinner--fillingmore than one bumper in drinking _confusion_ to Handy Andy, whichseemed a rather unnecessary malediction. 

CHAPTER IV

After the friendly parting of the foes (_pro tempore_), there was ageneral scatter of the party who had come to see the duel: and howstrange is the fact, that as much as human nature is prone to shudderat death under the gentlest circumstances, yet men will congregate tobe its witnesses when violence aggravates the calamity! A publicexecution or a duel is a focus where burning curiosity concentrates; inthe latter case, Ireland bears the palm for a crowd; in the former, theannals of the Old Bailey can _amply_ testify. Ireland has its owninterest, too, in a place of execution, but not in the same degree asEngland. They have been too used to hanging in Ireland to make itpiquant: "_toujours perdrix_" is a saying which applies in this as inmany other cases. The gallows, in its palmy days, was shorn of itsterrors: it became rather a pastime. For the victim it was a pastimewith a vengeance; for through it all time was past with him. For therabble who beheld his agony, the frequency of the sight had blunted theedge of horror, and only sharpened that of unnatural excitement. Thegreat school, where law should be the respected master, failed toinspire its intended awe;--the legislative lesson became a mockery; anddeath, instead of frowning with terror, grinned in a fool's cap fromthe scaffold. 

This may be doubted now, when a milder spirit presides in the councilsof the nation and on the bench; but those who remember Ireland not verylong ago, can bear witness how lightly life was valued, or deathregarded. Illustrative of this, one may refer to the story of the twobasket-women in Dublin, who held gentle converse on the subject of anapproaching execution. 

"Won't you go see de man die to-morrow, Judy?"

"Oh no, darlin', " said Judy. (By-the-bye, Judy pronounced the _n_through her nose, and said "_d_o. ")

"Ah do, jewel, " said her friend. 

Judy again responded, "_D_o. "

"And why won't you go, dear?" inquired her friend again. 

"I've to wash de child, " said Judy. 

"Sure, didn't you wash it last week?" said her friend, in anexpostulatory tone. 

"Oh, well, I _won't_ go, " said Judy. 

"Throth, Judy, you're ruinin' your health, " said this soft-heartedacquaintance; "dere's a man to die to-morrow, and you won'tcome--augh!--you _d_ever take _d_o divarshin!"

And wherefore is it thus? Why should tears bedew the couch of him whodies in the bosom of his family, surrounded by those who love him, whose pillow is smoothed by the hand of filial piety, whose past iswithout reproach, and whose future is bright with hope? and why shoulddry eyes behold the duellist or the culprit, in whom folly or guilt maybe the cause of a death on which the seal of censure or infamy may beset, and whose futurity we must tremble to consider? With more reasonmight we weep for the fate of either of the latter than the former, andyet we _do_ not. And why is it so? If I may venture an opinion, it isthat nature is violated: a natural death demands and receives thenatural tribute of tears; but a death of violence falls with a stunningforce upon the nerves, and the fountain of pity stagnates and will notflow. 

Though there was a general scattering of the persons who came to seethe duel, still a good many rode homeward with Murphy, who, with hissecond, Tom Durfy, beside him, headed the party, as they rode gailytowards the town, and laughed over the adventure of Andy and Dick. 

"No one can tell how anything is to finish, " said Tom Durfy; "here wecame out to have a duel, and, in the end, it turned out a hunt. "

"I am glad you were not in at _my_ death, however, " said Murphy, whoseemed particularly happy at not being killed. 

"You lost no time in firing, Murtough, " said one of his friends. 

"And small blame to me, Billy, " answered Murphy; "Egan is a capitalshot, and how did I know but he might take it into his head to shootme?--for he's very hot when roused, though as good-natured a fellow inthe main as ever broke bread; and yet I don't think, after all, he'dhave liked to do me much mischief either; but, you see, he couldn'tstand the joke he thought I played him. "

"Will you tell us what it was?" cried another of the party, pressingforward, "for we can't make it out exactly, though we've heardsomething of it--wasn't it leeches you sent to him, telling him he wasa blood-sucking villain?"

A roar of laughter from Murtough followed this question. "Lord, how astory gets mangled and twisted!" said he, as soon as he could speak. "Leeches! what an absurdity! No, it was----"

"A bottle of castor oil, wasn't it, by way of a present of noyeau?"said another of the party, hurrying to the front to put forward _his_version of the matter. 

A second shout of laughter from Murphy greeted this third edition ofthe story. "If you will listen to me, I'll give you the genuineversion, " said Murtough, "which is better, I promise you, than anywhich invention could supply. The fact is, Squire Egan is enragedagainst O'Grady, and applied to me to harass him in the parchment line, swearing he would blister him; and this phrase of blistering occurredso often, that when I sent him over a bit o' parchment, which heengaged to have served on my bold O'Grady, I wrote to him, 'DearSquire, I send you the blister;' and that most ingenious of allblunderers, Handy Andy, being the bearer, and calling at M'Garry's shopon his way home, picked up from the counter a _real_ blister, which wasfolded up in an inclosure, something like the process, and left thelaw-stinger behind him. "

"That's grate!" cried Doyle. 

"Oh, but you have not heard the best of it yet, " added Murphy. "I amcertain the bit of parchment was sent to O'Grady, for he was huntingM'Garry this morning through the town, with a cudgel of portentousdimensions--put that and that together. "

"No mistake!" cried Doyle; "and divil pity O'Grady, for he's ablustering, swaggering, overbearing, ill-tempered----"

"Hillo, hillo, Bill!" interrupted Murphy, "you are too hard on theadjectives; besides, you'll spoil your appetite if you ruffle yourtemper, and that would fret me, for I intend you to dine with meto-day. "

"Faith an' I'll do that same, Murtough, my boy, and glad to be asked, as the old maid said. "

"I'll tell you what it is, " said Murphy; "boys, you must all dine withme to-day, and drink long life to me, since I'm not killed. "

"There are seventeen of us, " said Durfy; "the little parlour won't holdus all. "

"But isn't there a big room at the inn, Tom?" returned Murphy, "and notbetter drink in Ireland than Mrs. Fay's. What do you say, lads--one andall--will you dine with me?"

"Will a duck swim?" chuckled out Jack Horan, an oily veteran, whoseldom opened his mouth but to put something into it, and spared hiswords as if they were of value; and to make them appear so, he spoke inapophthegms. 

"What say you, James Reddy?" said Murtough. 

"Ready, sure enough, and willing too!" answered James, who was a smallwit, and made the aforesaid play upon his name at least three hundredand sixty-five times every year. 

"Oh, we'll all come, " was uttered right and left. 

"Good men and true!" shouted Murphy; "won't we make the rafters shake, and turn the cellar inside out! Whoo! I'm in great heart to-day. Butwho is this powdhering up the road? By the powers! 't is the doctor, Ithink; 't is--I know his bandy hat over the cloud of dust. "

The individual thus designated as _the_ doctor now emerged from theobscurity in which he had been enveloped, and was received with a loudshout by the whole cavalcade as he approached them. Both parties drewrein, and the doctor, lifting from his head the aforesaid bandy hat, which was slouched over one eye, with a sinister droop, made a lowobeisance to Murphy, and said, with a mock solemnity, "Your servant, sir--and so you're not killed?"

"No, " said Murphy; "and you've lost a job, which I see you came to lookfor--but you're not to have the carving of me yet. "

"Considering it's so near Michaelmas, I think you've had a greatescape, signor, " returned the doctor. 

"Sure enough, " said Murphy, laughing; "but you're late this time: soyou must turn back, and content yourself with carving something moreinnocent than an attorney to-day--though at an attorney's cost. Youmust dine with me. "

"Willingly, signor, " said the doctor; "but pray don't make use of theword 'cost. ' I hate to hear it out of an attorney's mouth--or _bill_, Ishould say. "

A laugh followed the doctor's pleasantry, but no smile appeared upon_his_ countenance; for though uttering quaint and often very good, butoftener very bitter, things, he never moved a muscle of his face, whileothers were shaking their sides at his sallies. He was, in more waysthan one, a remarkable man. A massive head, large and rather protrudingeyes, lank hair, slouching ears, a short neck, and broad shoulders, rather inclined to stooping, a long body, and short legs, slightlybowed, constituted his outward man; and a lemon-coloured complexion, which a residence of some years in the East Indies had produced, didnot tend to increase his beauty. His mind displayed a superiorintelligence, original views, contempt of received opinions, with apower of satire and ridicule, which rendered him a pleasing friend or adangerous enemy, as the case might be; though, to say the truth, friendand foe were treated with nearly equal severity, if a joke or sarcasmtempted the assault. His own profession hated him, for he unsparinglyridiculed all stale practice, which his conviction led him to believewas inefficient, and he daringly introduced fresh, to the no smallindignation of the more cut and dry portion of the faculty, for whosehate he returned contempt, of which he made no secret. From an extremecoarseness of manner, even those who believed in his skill were afraidto trust to his humour: and the dislike of his brother-practitioners tomeet him superadded to this, damaged his interest considerably, andprevented his being called in until extreme danger frightened patients, or their friends, into sending for Dr. Growling. His carelessness indress, too, inspired disgust in the fair portion of the creation: and"snuffy" and "dirty, " "savage" and "brute, " were among the sweet wordsthey applied to him. 

Nevertheless, those who loved a joke more than they feared a hit, wouldrun the risk of an occasional thrust of the doctor's stiletto, for thesake of enjoying the mangling he gave other people; and such rollickingfellows as Murphy, and Durfy, and Dawson, and Squire Egan petted thissocial hedgehog. 

The doctor now turned his horse's head, and joined the cavalcade to thetown. "I have blown my Rosinante, " said he; "I was in such a hurry tosee the fun. "

"Yes, " said Murphy, "he smokes. "

"And his master takes snuff, " said the doctor, suiting the action tothe word. "I suppose, signor, you were thinking a little while ago thatthe squire might serve an ejectment on your vitality?"

"Or that in the trial between us I might get damages, " said Murphy. 

"There is a difference, in such case, " said the doctor, "between acourt of law and the court of honour; for in the former, the man isplaintiff before he gets his damages, while in the latter, it is afterhe gets his damages that he complains. "

"I'm glad my term is not ended, however, " said Murphy. 

"If it had been, " said the doctor, "I think you'd have had a longvacation in limbo. "

"And suppose I had been hit, " said Murphy, "you would have been late onthe ground. You're a pretty friend!"

"It's my luck, sir, " said the doctor; "I'm always late for a job. By-the-bye, I'll tell you an amusing fact of that musty piece ofhumanity, Miss Jinkins. Her niece was dangerously ill, and she had thatlicensed slaughterer from Killanmaul trying to tinker her up, till thepoor girl was past all hope, and then she sends for me. She swore, sometime ago, I shall never darken her doors; but when she began toapprehend that death was rather a darker gentleman than I, shetolerated my person. The old crocodile met me in the hall--by-the-bye, did you ever remark she's _like_ a crocodile, only not with so pleasingan expression?--and wringing her hands she cried, 'Oh, doctor, I'll bebound to you forever!'--I hope not, thought I to myself. 'Save myJemima, doctor, and there's nothing I won't do to prove my gratitude. ''Is she long ill, ma'am?' said I. 'A fortnight, doctor. ' 'I wish I hadbeen called in sooner, ma'am, ' says I--for, 'pon my conscience, Murphy, it is too ridiculous the way the people go on about me. I verilybelieve they think I can raise people out of their graves; and theycall me in to repair the damages disease _and_ the doctors have beenmaking; and while the gentlemen in black silk stockings, withgold-headed canes, have been fobbing fees for three weeks, perhaps, they call in poor Jack Growling, who scorns Jack-a-dandyism, and _he_gets a solitary guinea for mending the bungling that cost something tothe tune of twenty or thirty perhaps. And when I have plucked them fromthe jaws of death--regularly cheated the sexton out of them--the bestword they have for me is to call me a pig, or abuse my boots, or wonderthat the doctor is not more particular about his linen--the fools! Butto return to my gentle crocodile. I was shown upstairs to the sickroom, and there, sir, I saw the unfortunate girl, speechless, at thelast gasp absolutely. The Killanmaul dandy had left her todie--absolutely given her up; and _then_, indeed, I'm sent for! Well, Iwas in a rage, and was rushing out of the house, when the crocodileway-laid me in the hall. 'Oh, doctor, won't you do something for myJemima?' 'I can't, ma'am, ' says I; 'but Mr. Fogarty can. ' 'Mr. Fogarty!' says she. 'Yes, ma'am, ' says I. 'You have mistaken myprofession, Miss Jinkins--I'm a doctor, ma'am; but I suppose _you tookme for an undertaker_!'"

"Well, you hit her hard, doctor, " said Murphy. 

"Sir, you might as well hit a rhinoceros, " returned the doctor. 

"When shall we dine?" asked Jack Horan. 

"As soon as Mrs. Fay can let us have the eatables, " answered Murphy;"and, by-the-bye, Jack, I leave the ordering of the dinner to you, forno man understands better how to do that same; besides, I want to leavemy horse in my own stable, and I'll be up at the inn, after you, in abrace of shakes. "

The troop now approached the town. Those who lived there rode to theirown stables, and returned to the party at Mrs. Fay's: while they whoresided at a distance dismounted at the door of the inn, which soonbecame a scene of bustle in all its departments from this large influxof guests; and the preparation for the dinner, exceeding in scale whatMrs. Fay was generally called upon to provide, except when the assizes, or races, or other such cause of commotion, demanded all the resourcesof her establishment, and more, if she had them. So the Dinnys, and theTims, and the Mickeys, were rubbing down horses, cleaning knives, ordrawing forth extra tables from their dusty repose; and the Biddys, andJudys, and Nellys, were washing up plates, scouring pans, andbrightening up extra candlesticks, or doing deeds of doom in thepoultry-yard, where an audible commotion gave token of the prematuredeaths of sundry supernumerary chickens. 

Murphy soon joined his guests, grinning from ear to ear, and rubbinghis hands as he entered. 

"Great news, boys, " said he; "who do you think was at my house, when Igot home, but M'Garry, with his head bandaged up, and his whole body, as he declares, bearing black and blue testimony to the mercilessattack of the bold O'Grady, against whom he swears he'll bring anaction for assault and battery. Now, boys, I thought it would be greatfun to have him here to dinner--it's as good as a play to hear himdescribe the thrashing--so I asked him to come. He said he was not in afit state to dine out; but I egged him on by saying that a sight of himin his present plight would excite sympathy for him, and stir up publicfeeling against O'Grady, and that all would tell in the action, as mostlikely some of the present company might be on the jury, and would bethe better able to judge how far he was entitled to damages, fromwitnessing the severity of the injury he had received. So he's coming;and mind, you must all be deeply affected at his sufferings, andimpressed with the _powerful_ description he gives of the same. "

"Very scientific, of course, " said old Growling. 

"Extensively so, " returned Murphy; "he laid on the Latin _heavy_. "

"Yes--the fool!" growled the doctor: "he can't help sporting it even onme. I went into his shop one day, and asked for some opium wine, and hecould not resist calling it _vinum opii_ as he handed it to me. "

"We'll make him a martyr!" cried Durfy. 

"We'll make him dhrunk!" said Jack Horan, "and that will be better. Hebrags that he never was what he calls 'inebriated' in his life; and itwill be great fun to send him home on a door, with a note to his wife, who is proud of his propriety. "

As they spoke, M'Garry entered, his head freshly bound up, to look asgenteel as possible amongst the gentlemen with whom he was to have thehonour of dining. His wife had suggested a pink ribbon, but M'Garry, while he acknowledged his wife's superior taste, said black would lookmore professional. The odd fellows to whom he had now committedhimself, crowded round him, and, in the most exaggerated phrases, implied the high sense they entertained of _his_ wrongs and O'Grady'saggression. 

"Unprovoked attack!" cried one. 

"Savage ruffian!" ejaculated another. 

"What atrocity!" said a third. 

"What dignified composure!" added a fourth, in an audible whisper, meant for M'Garry's ear. 

"Gentlemen!" said the apothecary, flurried at the extreme attention ofwhich he became the object; "I beg to assure you I am deeply--thatis--this proof of--of--of--of symptoms--gentlemen--I mean sympathy, gentlemen--in short, I really----"

"The fact is, " said Growling, "I see Mr. M'Garry is rather shaken innerve--whether from loss of blood or----"

"I have lost a quantity of blood, doctor, " said M'Garry; "muchvascular, to say nothing of extra-vasated. "

"Which, I'll state in my case, " said Murphy. 

"Murphy, don't interrupt, " said Growling, who, with a very grave face, recommenced: "Gentlemen, from the cause already stated, I see Mr. M'Garry is not prepared to answer the out-pouring of feeling with whichyou have greeted him, and if I might be permitted----"

Every one shouted, "Certainly--certainly!"

"Then as I am permitted, I _will_ venture to respond _for_ Mr. M'Garry, and address you, as he _would_ address you. In the words of Mr. M'Garry, I would say--Gentlemen--unaccustomed as I am"--Some smotheredlaughter followed this beginning; upon which the doctor, with a mockgravity, proceeded--

"Gentlemen, this interruption I consider to be an infringement on theliberty of the subject. I recommence, therefore, in the words of myhonourable and wounded friend, and our honourable and wounded feelings, and say, as my friend would say, or, to speak classically, M'Garry_loquitur_"--

The apothecary bowed his head to the bit of Latin, and the doctorcontinued--

"Gentlemen--unaccustomed to public thrashing, you can conceive what myfeelings are at the present moment, in mind and body. [_Bravo_!] Youbehold an outrage [_much confusion_]! Shall an exaggerated savagerylike this escape punishment, and 'the calm, sequestered vale' (as thepoet calls it) of private life be ravaged with impunity? [_Bravo, bravo!_] Are the learned professions to be trampled under foot bybarbarian ignorance and brutality? No; I read in the indignant looks ofmy auditory their high-souled answers. Gentlemen, your sympathy isbetter than diachylon to my wounds, and this is the proudest day of mylife. "

Thunders of applause followed the doctor's address, and every one shookM'Garry's hand, till his bruised bones ached again. Questions pouredupon him from all sides as to the nature and quantity of his drubbing, to all of which M'Garry innocently answered in terms of exaggeration, spiced with scientific phrases. Muscles, tendons, bones, and sinews, were particularised with the precision of an anatomical demonstration;he swore he was pulverised, and paralysed, and all the other lies hecould think of. 

"A large stick you say?" said Murphy. 

"Sir! I never saw such a stick--'t was like a weaver's beam!"

"I'll make a note of that, " said Murphy. "A weaver's beam--'t will tellwell with a jury. "

"And beat you all over?" said Durfy. 

"From shoulder to flank, sir, I am one mass of welts and weals; theabrasures are extensive, the bruises terrific, particularly in thelumbar region. "

"What's that, " asked Jack Horan. 

"The lumbar region is what is commonly called the loins, sir. "

"Not always, " said the doctor. "It varies in different subjects: I haveknown some people whose _lumber_ region lay in the head. "

"You laugh, gentlemen, " said M'Garry, with a mournful smile; "but you_know_ the doctor--he _will_ be jocular. " He then continued to describethe various other regions of his injuries, amidst the well-acted pityand indignation of the queer fellows who drew him out, until they weresaturated, so far, with the fun of the subject. After which, Murphy, whose restless temperament could never let him be quiet for a moment, suggested that they should divert themselves before dinner with abadger-fight. 

"Isn't one fight a day enough for you, signor?" said the doctor. 

"It is not every day we get a badger, you know, " said Murphy; "and Iheard just now from Tim the waiter that there is a horse-dealer latelyarrived at the stables here, who has a famous one with him, and I knowReilly the butcher has two or three capital dogs, and there's a wickedmastiff below stairs, and I'll send for my 'buffer, ' and we'll havesome spanking sport. "

He led his guests then to the inn yard, and the horse-dealer, for aconsideration, allowed his badger to wage battle: the noise of theaffair spread through the town, while they were making theirarrangements, and sending right and left for dogs for the contest; anda pretty considerable crowd soon assembled at the place of action, where the hour before dinner was spent in the intellectual amusement ofa badger-fight. 

CHAPTER V

The fierce yells of the badger-fight ringing far and wide, soonattracted a crowd, which continued to increase every minute byinstalments of men and boys, who might be seen running across a smallfield by the road-side, close to the scene of action, which lay at theback of the inn; and heavy-caped and skirted frieze coats streamedbehind the full-grown, while the rags of the gossoons[1] fluttered inthe race. Attracted by this evidence of "something going on, " ahorseman, who was approaching the town, urged his horse to speed, andturning his head towards a yawning double ditch that divided the roadfrom the field, he gracefully rode the noble animal over the spankingleap. 

 [1] Boys. 

The rider was Edward O'Connor; and he was worthy of his name--the pureblood of that royal race was in his heart, which never harboured asentiment that could do it dishonour, and overflowed with feelingswhich ennoble human nature, and make us proud of our kind. He was youngand handsome; and as he sat his mettled horse, no lady could deny thatEdward O'Connor was the very type of the gallant cavalier. Thoughattached to every manly sport and exercise, his mind was of a refinedorder; and a youth passed amidst books and some of the loveliestscenery in Ireland had nurtured the poetic feeling with which his mindwas gifted, and which found its vent in many a love-taught lyric, ortouching ballad, or spirit-stirring song, whose theme was nationalglory. To him the bygone days of his country's history were dear, mademore familiar by many an antique relic which hung around his own roomin his father's house. Celt and sword, and spear-head of Phoenicianbronze, and golden gorget, and silver bodkin, and ancient harp, andstudded crosier, were there; and these time-worn evidences of arts, andarms, and letters flattered the affection with which he looked back onthe ancient history of Ireland, and kept alive the ardent love of hiscountry with which he glowed--a love too deep, too pure, to be likelyto expire, even without the aid of such poetic sources of excitement. To him the names of Fitzgerald, and Desmond, and Tyrone, were dear; andthere was no romantic legend of the humbler outlaws with which he wasnot familiar: and "Charley of the Horses, " and "Ned of the Hill, " butheaded the list of names he loved to recall; and the daring deeds ofbold spirits who held the hill-side for liberty, were often given inwords of poetic fire from the lips of Edward O'Connor. 

And yet Edward O'Connor went to see the badger-fight. 

There is something inherent in man's nature, urging him to familiarisehimself with cruelty: and, perhaps, without such a power of witnessingsavage deeds, he would be unequal to the dominion for which he wasdesigned. Men of the highest order of intellect the world has knownhave loved the chase. How admirably Scott displays this tendency ofnoble minds, in the meeting of Ellen with her father, when Douglassays--

 "The chase I followed far; 'T is mimicry of noble war. "

And the effect of this touch of character is heightened by Douglas in asubsequent scene--Douglas, who could enjoy the sport which ends indeath, bending over his gentle child, and dropping tears of thetenderest affection--tears which

 "Would not stain an angel's cheek. "

Superadded to this natural tendency, Edward O'Connor had an additionalmotive. He lived amongst a society of sporting men, less cultivatedthan he was, whose self-esteem would have easily ignited the spark ofjealousy if he had seemed to scorn the things which made theirprincipal enjoyment, and formed the chief occupation of their lives;and his good sense and good heart (and there is an intimate connectionbetween them) pointed out to him that, wherever your lot is cast, dutyto yourself and others suggests the propriety of adapting your conductto the circumstances in which you are placed (so long as morality anddecency are not violated), and that the manifestation of one's ownsuperiority may render the purchase too dear, by being bought at theterrible price of our neighbour's dislike. He, therefore, did not telleverybody he wrote verses: he kept the gift as secret as he could. Ifan error, however gross, on any subject, were made in his presence, henever took willing notice of it; or if circumstances obliged him totouch upon it, it was always done with a politeness and tact thatafforded the blunderer the means of retreat. If some gross historicalerror, for instance, happened to be committed in a conversation _withhimself_ (and then only), he would set the mistake right, as a matterof conscience, but he would do so by saying there was a greatsimilarity between the event spoken of and some other event. "I knowwhat you are thinking of, " he would say, "but you make a slight mistakein the dates; the two stories are very similar, and likely to misleadone. "

But with all this modest reserve, did the least among his companionsthink him the less clever? No. It was shrewdly suspected he was a poet;it was well known he was highly educated and accomplished; and yetEdward O'Connor was a universal favourite, bore the character of beinga "real fine fellow, " and was loved and respected by the mostilliterate of the young men of the country; who, in allusion to hisextensive lore on the subject of the legendary heroes of the _romantic_history of Ireland, his own Christian name, and his immediate place ofresidence, which was near a wild mountain pass, christened him "Ned ofthe Hill. "

His appearance amidst the crowd assembled to witness the rude sport washailed with pleasure--varying from the humble but affectionate respectof the peasant, who cried "Long life to you, Misther O'Connor, " to thehearty burst of equality, which welcomed him as "Ned of the Hill. "

The fortune of the fight favoured the badger, who proved himself atrump; and Murphy appreciated his worth so highly that, when the battlewas over, he would not quit the ground until he became his owner, at ahigh price to the horse-dealer. His next move was to _insist_ on EdwardO'Connor dining with him; and Edward, after many excuses to avoid theparty he foresaw would be a drinking bout--of which he had a specialhorror, notwithstanding all his toleration--yielded to the entreatiesof Murphy, and consented to be his guest, just as Tim the waiter ranup, steaming from every pore, to announce that the dinner was "ready tobe sarved. "

"Then sarve it, sir, " said Murphy, "and sarve it right. "

Off cantered Tim, steaming and snorting like a locomotive engine, andthe party followed to the inn, where a long procession of dish-bearerswas ascending the stairs to the big room, as Murphy and his friendsentered. 

The dinner it is needless to describe. One dinner is the same asanother in the most essential points, namely, to satisfy hunger andslake consequent thirst; and whether beef and cabbage, and heavy wet, are to conquer the dragon of appetite, or your stomach is to sustainthe more elaborate attack fired from the _batterie de cuisine_ of afinished _artiste_, and moistened with champagne, the difference isonly of degree in the fashion of the thing and the tickling of thepalate: hunger is as thoroughly satisfied with the one as the other;and headaches as well manufactured out of the beautiful, bright, andtaper glasses which bear the foam of France to the lip, as from thecoarse, flat-bottomed tumblers of an inn that reek with punch. At thedinner there was the same tender solicitude on the part of the carversas to "Where would you like it?" and the same carelessness on the partof those whom they questioned, who declared they had no choice, "but ifthere _was_ a little bit near the shank, " &c. , or "if there was a liverwing to _spare_. " By the way, some carvers there are who push anaspirant's patience too far. I have seen some who, after giving awayboth wings, and all the breast, two sidebones, and the short legs, meetthe eager look of the fifth man on their left with a smile, and askhim, with an effrontery worthy of the Old Bailey, "Has he any choice?"and, at the same time, toss a drum-stick on the destined plate, orboldly attempt to divert his melancholy with a merry-thought. All this, and more, was there at Murtough Murphy's dinner, long memorable in thecountry from a frolic that wound up the evening, which soon began towarm, after the cloth was removed, into the sort of a thing commonlyknown by the name of a jollification. But before the dinner was over, poor M'Garry was nearly pickled: Jack Horan, having determined to makehim drunk, arranged a system of attack on M'Garry's sobriety which badedefiance to his prudence to withstand. It was agreed that every oneshould ask the apothecary to take wine; and he, poor innocent man! whengentlemen whom he had never had the honour to meet at dinner beforeaddressed him with a winning smile, and said, "Mr. M'Garry, will you dome the _honour_?" could not do less than fill his glass every time;so that, to use Jack Horan's own phrase, the apothecary was "sewed up"before he had any suspicion of the fact; and, unused to the indicationsof approaching vinous excitement, he supposed it was the delightfulsociety made him so hilarious, and he began to launch forth afterdinner in a manner quite at variance with the reserve he usuallymaintained in the presence of his superiors, and talked largely. Now, M'Garry's principal failing was to make himself appear very learned inhis profession; and every new discovery in chemistry, operation insurgery, or scientific experiment he heard of, he was prone to shovein, head and shoulders, in his soberest moments; but now that he washalf-drunk, he launched forth on the subject of galvanism, having readof some recent wonderful effects produced on the body of a recentmurderer who was hanged and given over to the College of Surgeons inDublin. To impress the company still more with a sense of his learning, he addressed Growling on the subject, and the doctor played him off toadvantage. 

"Don't you think it very wonderful, doctor?" inquired M'Garry, speakingsomewhat thickly. 

"Very, " answered the doctor, drily. 

"They say, sir, the man--that is, the subject--when under the influenceof the battery, absolutely twiddled his left foot, and raised his rightarm. "

"And raised it to some purpose, too, " said the doctor; "for he raised acontusion on the Surgeon-General's eye, having hit him over the same. "

"Dear me!--I did not hear that. "

"It is true, however, " said the doctor; "and that gives you an idea ofthe power of the galvanic influence, for you know the Surgeon-Generalis a powerful man, and yet he could not hold him down. "

"Wonderful!" hiccupped M'Garry. 

"But that's nothing to what happened in London, " continued the doctor. "They experimented there the other day with a battery of such power, that the man who was hanged absolutely jumped up, seized a scalpel fromthe table, and making a rush on the assembled Faculty of London, cleared the theatre in less than no time; dashed into the hall; stabbedthe porter who attempted to stop him; made a chevy down the south sideof Leicester Square; and as he reached the corner, a woman, who wascarrying tracts published by the Society for the Suppression of Vice, shrieked at beholding a man in so startling a condition, and fainted;he, with a presence of mind perfectly admirable, whipped the cloak fromher back, and threw it round him, and scudding through the tortuousalleys which abound in that neighbourhood, made his way to the housewhere the learned Society of Noviomagians hold their convivialmeetings, and, telling the landlord that he was invited there to dinneras a curiosity, he gained admittance, and, it is supposed, took hisopportunity for escaping, for he has not since been heard of. "

"Good Heaven!" gasped M'Garry; "and do you believe that, doctor?"

"Most firmly, sir! My belief is, that galvanism is, in fact, theoriginal principle of vitality. "

"Should we not rejoice, doctor, " cried M'Garry, "at this triumph ofscience?"

"I don't think you should, Mister M'Garry, " said the doctor, gravely;"for it would utterly destroy _your_ branch of the profession:pharmacopolists, instead of compounding medicine, must compound withtheir creditors; they are utterly ruined. Mercury is no longer in theascendent; all doctors have to do now is to carry a small battery aboutthem, a sort of galvanic pocket-pistol, I may say, and restore thevital principle by its application. "

"You are not serious, doctor?" said M'Garry, becoming _very_ serious, with that wise look so peculiar to drunken men. 

"Never more serious in my life, sir. "

"That would be dreadful!" said M'Garry. 

"_Shocking_, you mean, " said the doctor. 

"Leave off your confounded scientifics, there, " shouted Murphy from thehead of the table, "and let us have a song. "

"I can't sing, indeed, Mister Murphy, " said M'Garry, who became moreintoxicated every moment; for he continued to drink, having oversteppedthe boundary which custom had prescribed to him. 

"I didn't ask you, man, " said Murphy; "but my darling fellow, Ned here, will gladden our hearts and ears with a stave. "

"Bravo!" was shouted round the table, trembling under the "thunders ofapplause" with which heavy hands made it ring again; and "Ned of theHill!" "Ned of the Hill!" was vociferated with many a hearty cheerabout the board that might indeed be called "festive. "

"Well, " said O'Connor, "since you call upon me in the name of Ned ofthe Hill, I'll give you a song under that very title. Here's Ned of theHill's own shout;" and in a rich, manly voice he sang, with the fire ofa bard, these lines:--

 THE SHOUT OF NED OF THE HILL. [2]

 I

 The hill! the hill! with its sparkling rill, And its dawning air so light and pure, Where the morning's eye scorns the mist, that lie On the drowsy valley and the moor. Here, with the eagle, I rise betimes; Here, with the eagle, my state I keep; The first we see of the morning sun, And his last as he sets o'er the deep, And there, while strife is rife below, Here from the tyrant I am free: Let shepherd slaves the valley praise, But the hill! the hill for me!

 [2] The songs in this work are published by Duff and Hodgson, 65, Oxford Street. 

 II

 The baron below in his castle dwells, And his garden boasts the costly rose; But mine is the keep of the mountain steep, Where the matchless wild flower freely blows. Let him fold his sheep, and his harvest reap-- I look down from my mountain throne; And I choose and pick of the flock and the rick, And what is his I can make my own. Let the valley grow in its wealth below, And the lord keep his high degree; But higher am I in my liberty-- The hill! the hill for me!

O'Connor's song was greeted with what the music-publishers are pleasedto designate, on their title-pages, "distinguished applause;" and his"health and song" were filled to and drank with enthusiasm. 

"Whose lines are those?" asked the doctor. 

"I don't know, " said O'Connor. 

"That's as much as to say they are your own, " said Growling. "Ned, don't be too modest--it is the worst fault a man can have who wants toget on in this world. "

"The call is with you, Ned, " shouted Murphy from the head of the table;"knock some one down for a song. "

"Mr. Reddy, I hope, will favour us, " said Edward, with a courteousinclination of his head towards the gentleman he named, who returned avery low bow, with many protestations that he would "do his best, " &c. :"but after Mr. O'Connor, really, "--and this was said with a certainself-complacent smile, indicative of his being on very good terms withhimself. Now, James Reddy wrote rhymes--bless the mark!--and wastolerably well convinced that, except Tom Moore (if he _did_ excepteven him), there was not a man in the British dominions his equal at alyric. He sang, too, with a kill-me-quite air, as if no lady couldresist his strains; and to "give effect, " as he called it, he beganevery stanza as loud as he could, and finished it in a gentlemurmur--tailed it off very taper, indeed; in short, it seemed as if ashout had been suddenly smitten with consumption, and died in awhisper. And this, his style, he never varied, whatever the nature orexpression of the song might be, or the sense to be expressed; but ashe very often sang his own, there were seldom any to consider. Thisrubbish he had set to music by the country music-master, who believedhimself to be a better composer than Sir John Stevenson, to whom theprejudices of the world gave the palm; and he eagerly caught at theopportunity which the verses and vanity of Reddy afforded him, ofstringing his crotchets and quavers on the same hank with the abortivefruits of Reddy's muse, and the wretched productions hung worthilytogether. 

Reddy, with the proper quantity of "hems and haws, " and rubbing downhis upper lip and chin with his forefinger and thumb, cleared histhroat, tossed his nose into the air, and said he was going to givethem "a little _classic_ thing. "

"Just look at the puppy!" snarled out old Growling to his neighbour:"he's going to measure us out some yards of his own fustian, I'msure--he looks so pleased. "

Reddy gave his last "a-hem!" and sang what he called

 THE LAMENT OF ARIADNE

 The graceful Greek, with gem-bright hair, Her garments rent, and rent the air;

"What a tearing rage she was in!" said old Growling in an under-tone. 

 With sobs and sighs And tearful eyes, Like fountain fair of Helicon!

"Oh, thunder and lightning!" growled the doctor, who pulled a letterout of his pocket, and began to scribble on the blank portions of it, with the stump of a blunt pencil, which he very audibly sucked, toenable it to make a mark. 

 For ah, her lover false was gone! The fickle brave, And fickle wave, "And pickled cabbage, " said the doctor. 

 Combined to cheat the fickle fair. O fickle! fickle! fickle! But the brave should be true, And the fair ones too-- True, true, As the ocean's blue! And Ariadne had not been, Deserted there, like beauty's queen. Oh, Adriadne!--adne!--adne!

"Beautiful!" said the doctor, with an approving nod at Reddy, whocontinued his song, while the doctor continued to write. 

 The sea-nymphs round the sea-girt shore Mocked the maiden's sighs; And the ocean's savage roar Replies-- Replies--replies--replies, replies, replies. 

 (_After the manner of_ "Tell me where is fancy bred. ")

"Very original!" said the doctor. 

 With willow wand Upon the strand. She wrote, with trembling heart and hand, "The brave should ne'er Desert the fair. " But the wave the moral washed away, Ah, well-a-day! well-a-day! A-day!--a-day!--a-day!

Reddy smiled and bowed, and thunders of applause followed; the doctorshouted "Splendid!" several times, and continued to write and takesnuff voraciously, by which those who knew him could comprehend he wasbent on mischief. 

"What a beautiful thing that is!" said one. 

"Whose is it?" said another. 

"A little thing of my own, " answered Reddy, with a smile. 

"I thought so, " said Murphy. "By Jove, James, you _are_ a genius!"

"Nonsense!" smiled the poet; "just a little classic trifle--I think_them_ little classic allusions is pleasing in general--Tommy Moore isvery happy in his classic allusions, you may remark--not that I, ofcourse, mean to institute a comparison between so humble an individualas myself and Tommy Moore, who has so well been called 'the poet of allcircles, and the idol of his own;' and if you will permit me, in akindred spirit--I hope I _may_ say the kindred spirit of a song--inthat kindred spirit I propose _his_ health--the health of Tommy Moore!"

"Don't say _Tommy_!" said the doctor, in an irascible tone; "call theman Tom, sir;--with all my heart, Tom Moore!"

The table took the word from Jack Growling, and "Tom Moore, " with allthe honours of "hip and hurra!" rang round the walls of the villageinn--and where is the village in Ireland _that_ health has not beenhailed with the fiery enthusiasm of the land whose lays he hath "weddedto immortal verse, "--the land which is proud of his birth, and holdshis name in honour?

There is a magic in a great name; and in this instance that of TomMoore turned the current from where it was setting, and instead ofquizzing the nonsense of the fool who had excited their mirth, everyone launched forth in praise of their native bard, and couplets fromhis favourite songs rang from lip to lip. 

"Come, Ned of the Hill, " said Murphy, "sing us one of _his_ songs, --Iknow you have them all as pat as your prayers. "

"And says them oftener, " said the doctor, who still continuedscribbling over the letter. 

Edward, at the urgent request of many, sang that most exquisite of themelodies, "And doth not a meeting like this make amends?" and long rangthe plaudits, and rapidly circulated the bottle, at its conclusion. 

"We'll be the 'Alps in the sunset, ' my boys, " said Murphy; "and here'sthe wine to enlighten us! But what are _you_ about there, doctor?--isit a prescription you are writing?"

"No. Prescriptions are written in Latin, and this is a bit of Greek I'mdoing. Mr. Reddy has inspired me with a classic spirit, and if you willpermit me, I'll volunteer a song [_bravo! bravo!_], and give youanother version of the subject he has so beautifully treated--only mineis not so heart-breaking. "

The doctor's proposition was received with cheers, and after he hadgone through the mockery of clearing his throat, and pitching his voiceafter the usual manner of your would-be fine singers, he gave out, tothe tune of a well-known rollicking Irish lilt, the following burlesqueversion of the subject of Reddy's song:--

 LOVE AND LIQUOR

 _A Greek Allegory_

 I

 Oh sure 't would amaze yiz How one Misther Theseus Desarted a lovely young lady of owld. On a dissolute island, All lonely and silent, She sobbed herself sick as she sat in the cowld. Oh, you'd think she was kilt, As she roar'd with the quilt Wrapp'd round her in haste as she jumped out of bed, And ran down to the coast, Where she looked like a ghost, Though 't was _he_ was departed--the vagabone fled And she cried, "Well-a-day! Sure my heart it is grey: They're deceivers, them sojers, that goes on half-pay. "

 II

 Whilst abusing the villain, Came riding postilion A nate little boy on the back of a baste, Big enough, faith, to ate him, But he lather'd and bate him, And the baste to unsate him ne'er struggled the laste, And an iligant car He was dhrawing--by gar! It was finer by far than a Lord Mayor's state coach, And the chap that was in it He sang like a linnet, With a nate kag of whisky beside him to broach. And he tipped now and then Just a matter o' ten Or twelve tumblers o' punch to his bold sarving-men. 

 III

 They were dress'd in green livery, But seem'd rather shivery, For 't was only a trifle o' leaves that they wore; But they caper'd away Like the sweeps on May-day, And shouted and tippled the tumblers galore. A print of their masther Is often in plasther O' Paris, put over the door of a tap; A fine chubby fellow, Ripe, rosy, and mellow, Like a peach that is ready to drop in your lap. Hurrah! for brave Bacchus, A bottle to crack us, He's a friend of the people, like bowld Caius Gracchus. 

 IV

 Now Bacchus perceiving The lady was grieving, He spoke to her civil, and tipp'd her a wink; And the more that she fretted, He soother'd and petted, And gave her a glass her own health just to dhrink; Her pulse it beat quicker, The thrifle o' liquor Enliven'd her sinking heart's cockles, I think; So the MORAL is plain, That if love gives you pain, _There's nothing can cure it like taking to dhrink!_

Uproarious were the "bravos" which followed the doctor's impromptu; theglasses overflowed, and were emptied to his health and song, aslaughing faces nodded to him round the table. The doctor sat seriouslyrocking himself in his chair backwards and forwards, to meet thevarious duckings of the beaming faces about him; for every face beamed, but one--and that was the unfortunate M'Garry's. He was most deplorablydrunk, and began to hold on by the table. At last he contrived to shoveback his chair and get on his legs; and making a sloping staggertowards the wall, contrived by its support to scramble his way to thedoor. There he balanced himself as well as he could by the handle ofthe lock, which chance, rather than design, enabled him to turn, andthe door suddenly opening, poor M'Garry made a rush across thelanding-place, and, stumbling against an opposite door, would havefallen, had he not supported himself by the lock of that also, which, again yielding to his heavy tugs, opened, and the miserable wretchmaking another plunge forward, his shins came in contact with the railof a very low bed, and into it he fell head foremost, totally unable torise, and, after some heavy grunts, he sank into a profound sleep. 

In this state he was discovered soon after by Murphy, whose inventivefaculty for frolic instantly suggested how the apothecary's mishapmight be made the foundation of a good practical joke. Murtough wentdown-stairs, and procuring some blacking and red pickled cabbage bystealth, returned to the chamber where M'Garry now lay in a state ofstupor, and dragging off his clothes, he made long dabs across his backwith the purple juice of the pickle and Warren's paste, till poorM'Garry was as regularly striped as a tiger, from his shoulder to hisflank. He then returned to the dinner-room, where the drinking bout hadassumed a formidable character, and others, as well as the apothecary, began to feel the influence of their potations. Murphy confided to thedoctor what he had done, and said that, when the men were drunk enough, he would contrive that M'Garry should be discovered, and then theywould take their measures accordingly. It was not very long before hiscompany were ripe enough for his designs, and then ringing the bell, hedemanded of the waiter, when he entered, what had become of Mr. M'Garry. The waiter, not having any knowledge on the subject, wasdesired to inquire, and, a search being instituted, M'Garry wasdiscovered by Mrs. Fay in the state Murphy had left him in. On seeinghim, she was so terrified that she screamed, and ran into thedinner-room, wringing her hands, and shouting "Murder. " A greatcommotion ensued, and a general rush to the bedroom took place, andexclamations of wonder and horror flew round the room, not only fromthe gentlemen of the dinner-party, but from the servants of the house, who crowded to the chamber on the first alarm, and helped not a littleto increase the confusion. 

"Oh! who ever see the like of it!" shouted Mrs. Fay. "He's kilt withthe batin' he got! Oh, look at him--black and blue all over! Oh, themurther it is! Oh, I wouldn't be Squire O'Grady for all his fort'n. "

"Gad, I believe he's killed sure enough, " said Murphy. 

"What a splendid action the widow will have!" said Jack Horan. 

"You forget, man, " said Murphy, "this is not a case for action ofdamages, but a felony--hanging matter. "

"Sure enough, " said Jack. 

"Doctor, will you feel his pulse?" said Murphy. 

The doctor did as he was required, and assumed a very seriouscountenance. "'T is a bad business, sir--his wounds are mortifyingalready. "

Upon this announcement, there was a general retreat from the bed, roundwhich they had been crowding too close for the carrying on of the joke;and Mrs. Fay ran for a shovel of hot cinders, and poured vinegar overthem, to fumigate the room. 

"A very proper precaution, Mrs. Fay, " said the doctor, withimperturbable gravity. 

"That villainous smoke is choking me, " said Jack Horan. 

"Better that, sir, than have a pestilence in the house, " said Growling. 

"I'll leave the place, " said Jack Horan. 

"And I, too, " said Doyle. 

"And I, " said Reddy; "'t is disgusting to a sensitive mind. "

"Gentlemen!" said Murphy, shutting the door, "you must not quit thehouse. I must have an inquest on the body. "

"An inquest!" they all exclaimed. 

"Yes--an inquest. "

"But there's no coroner here, " said Reddy. 

"No matter for that, " said Murphy. "I, as the under-sheriff of thecounty, can preside at this inquiry. Gentlemen, take your places; bringin more lights, Mrs. Fay. Stand round the bed, gentlemen. "

"Not too close, " said the doctor. "Mrs. Fay, bring more vinegar. "

Mrs. Fay had additional candles and more vinegar introduced, and thedrunken fellows were standing as straight as they could, each with acandle in his hand, round the still prostrate M'Garry. 

Murphy then opened on them with a speech, and called in every one inthe house to ask did they know anything about the matter; and it wasnot long before it was spread all over the town, that Squire O'Gradyhad killed M'Garry, and that the coroner's inquest brought in a verdictof murder, and that the squire was going to be sent to jail. 

This almost incredible humbug of Murphy's had gone on for nearly halfan hour, when the cold arising from his want of clothes, and the riotabout him, and the fumes of the vinegar, roused M'Garry, who turned onthe bed and opened his eyes. There he saw a parcel of people standinground him, with candles in their hands, and countenances of drunkenwonder and horror. 

He uttered a hollow groan, and cried--

"Save us and keep us! where am I?"

"Retire, gentlemen, " said the doctor, waving his hand authoritatively;"retire--all but the under-sheriff. "

Murphy cleared the room, and shut the door, while M'Garry still keptexclaiming, "Save us and keep us! where am I? What's this? O Lord!"

"You're dead!" said Murphy; "and the coroner's inquest has just sat onyou!"

[Illustration: An Irish Inquest]

"Dead!" cried M'Garry, with a horrified stare. 

"Dead!" repeated the doctor, solemnly. 

"Are _you_ not Doctor Growling?"

"You see the effect, Mr. Murphy, " said the doctor, not noticingM'Garry's question--"you see the effect of the process. "

"Wonderful!" said Murphy. 

"Preserve us!" cried the bewildered apothecary. "How could I know youif I was dead, doctor? Oh, doctor dear, sure I'm not dead?"

"As a herring, " said the doctor. 

"Lord have mercy on me! Oh, Mr. Murphy, sure I'm not dead?"

"You're dead, sir, " said Murphy; "the doctor has only galvanised youfor a few moments. "

"O Lord!" groaned M'Garry. "Doctor--indeed, doctor?"

"You are in a state of temporary animation, " said the doctor. 

"I do feel very odd, indeed, " said the terrified man, putting his handsto his throbbing temples. "How long am I dead?"

"A week next Tuesday, " said the doctor. "Galvanism has preserved youfrom decomposition. "

M'Garry uttered a heavy groan, and looked up piteously at his twotormentors. Murphy, fearful the shock might drive him out of his mind, said, "Perhaps, doctor, you can preserve his life altogether: you havekept him alive so long?"

"I'll try, " said Growling; "hand me that tumbler. "

Murphy handed him a tumbler full of water, and the doctor gave it toM'Garry, and desired him to try and drink it; he put it to his lips andswallowed a little drop. 

"Can you taste it?" asked the doctor. 

"Isn't it water?" said M'Garry. 

"You see how dull the nerves are yet, " said Growling to Murphy; "that'saquafortis and assafoetida, and he can't taste it; we must give himanother touch of the battery. Hold him up, while I go into the nextroom, and immerse the plates. "

The doctor left the bed-room, and came back with a hot poker and somelemon-juice and water. 

"Turn him gently round, " said he to Murphy, "while I conduct thewires. "

His order was obeyed; and giving M'Garry a touch of the hot poker, theapothecary roared like a bull. 

"That did him good!" said Growling. "Now try, can you taste anything?"and he gave him the lemon-juice and water. 

"I taste a slight acid, doctor dear, " said M'Garry, hopefully. 

"You see what that last touch did, " said Growling gravely; "but thepalate is still feeble; that's nearly pure nitric. "

"Oh, dear!" said M'Garry, "is it nitric?"

"You see his hearing is coming back too, " said the doctor to Murphy. "Try, can he put his legs under him?"

They raised the apothecary from the bed; and when he staggered andfell forward, he looked horrified. "Oh, dear! I can't walk. I'm afraidI am--I am no more!"

"Don't despair, " said the doctor; "I pledge my professional reputationto save you now, since you can stand at all, and your senses are partlyrestored. Let him lie down again; try, could he sleep----"

"Sleep!" said M'Garry, with horror; "perhaps never to awaken!"

"I'll keep up the galvanic influence--don't be afraid; depend uponme--there, lie down. Can you shut your eyes? Yes, I see you can:don't open them so fast. Try, can you keep them shut? Don't open themtill I tell you--wait till I count two hundred and fifty. That'sright--turn a little more round--keep your eyes fast; that's it. One--two--three--four--five--six--seven;" and so he went on, making alonger interval between every number, till the monotonous sound, andthe closed eye of the helplessly drunken man, produced the effectdesired by the doctor; and the heavy snoring of the apothecary soonbore witness that he slept. 

We hope it is not necessary to assure our fair readers that EdwardO'Connor had nothing to do with this scene of drunken absurdity. No:long before the evening's proceedings had assumed the character of aregular drinking bout, he had contrived to make his escape, his headonly sufficiently excited to increase his sentimentality; so, insteadof riding home direct, he took a round of some eight miles, to have alook at Merryvale, for there dwelt Fanny Dawson--the Darling FannyDawson, sister to Dick, whose devilry was more than redeemed in thefamily by the angelic sweetness of his lovely and sportive sister. Forthe present, however, poor Edward O'Connor was not allowed to addressFanny; but his love for her knew no abatement notwithstanding; and tosee the place where she dwelt had for him a charm. There he sat in hissaddle, at the gate, looking up the long line of old trees throughwhich the cool moonlight was streaming; and he fancied that Fanny'sfoot had trodden that avenue perhaps a few hours before, and even_that_ gave him pleasure: for to those who love with the fondenthusiasm of Edward O'Connor, the very vacancy where the loved one hasbeen is sacred. 

The horse pawed impatiently to be gone, and Edward reined him up with achiding voice; but the animal continuing restless, Edward's apostrophesto his mistress, and warnings to his horse, made an odd mixture; andwe would recommend gentlemen, after their second bottle, not to letthemselves be overheard in their love-fits; for even as fine a fellowas Edward O'Connor is likely to be ridiculous under such circumstances. 

"Oh, Fanny!" cried Edward, "my adored Fanny!"--then to his horse, "_Bequiet, you brute!_--My love, my angel;--_you devil, I'll thrash you, ifyou don't be quiet!_--though separated from me, you are always presentto mind; your bright eyes, your raven locks--_your mouth's as hard as apaving-stone, you brute!_--Oh, Fanny! if fate be ever propitious--shouldI be blessed with the divine possession of your charms, you should thenknow--_what a devil you are!_--you should then know the tenderest care. I'll guard you, caress you, fondle you--_I'll bury my spurs in you, youdevil!_--Oh, Fanny! beloved one!--farewell--good night--a thousandblessings on you!--_and now go and be hanged to you!_" said he, bitterly, putting his spurs to his horse and galloping home. 

 * * * * *

When the doctor was satisfied that M'Garry was fast asleep, he andMurphy left the room, and locked the door. They were encountered on thelobby by several curious people, who wanted to know, "was the mandead?" The doctor shook his head very gravely, and said "Not quite;"while Murphy, with a serious nod, said "All over, I'm afraid, Mrs. Fay;" for he perceived among the persons on the lobby a servant ofO'Grady's, who chanced to be in the town, and was all wonder and frightat the news of his master having committed murder. Murphy and thedoctor proceeded to the dinner-room, where they found the drunken menwrangling about what verdict they should bring in, and a discursivedispute touching on "murder, " and "manslaughter, " and "accidentaldeath, " and "the visitation of God, " mingled with noisy toasts andflowing cups, until any sagacity the company ever possessed wassacrificed to the rosy god. 

The lateness of the hour, and the state of the company, rendered ridinghome impossible to most of them; so Mrs. Fay was called upon to preparebeds. The inn did not afford a sufficiency of beds to accommodate everygentleman with a single one, so a toss-up was resorted to, to decidewho should sleep double. The fortune of war cast the unfortunate JamesReddy upon the doctor, who, though one of the few who were capable ofself-protection, preferred remaining at the inn to riding home somemiles. Now James Reddy, though very drunk indeed, had sense enough leftto dislike the lot that fate had cast him. To sleep with such aslovenly man as the doctor shocked James, who was a bit of a dandy. Thedoctor seemed perfectly contented with the arrangement; and as he badeMurphy "good night, " a lurking devilment hung about his huge mouth. Allthe men staggered off, or were supported, to their various beds, butone--and he could not stir from the floor, where he lay hugging the legof the table. To every effort to disturb him he replied with animploring grunt, to "let him alone, " and he hugged the leg of the tablecloser, exclaiming, "I won't leave you, Mrs. Fay!--my darling Mrs. Fay!rowl your arms round me, Mrs. Fay!"

"Ah, get up and go to bed, Misther Doyle, " said Tim. "Sure themisthress is not here at all. "

"I know she's not, " said Doyle. "Who says a word against her?"

"Sure you're talkin' to her yourself, sir. "

"Pooh, pooh, man!--you're dhrunk. "

"Ah, come to bed, Misther Doyle!" said Tim, in an imploring tone. "Ochsure, my heart's broken with you. "

"Don't say your heart's broke, my sweet landlady--my darling Mrs. Fay!the apple of my eye you are. "

"Nonsense, Misther Doyle. "

"True as the sun, moon, and stars. Apple of my eye, did I say?--I'dgive the apples of my eyes to make sauce for the cockles of your heart. Mrs. Fay, darling, don't be coy. Ha! I have you fast!" and he grippedthe table closer. 

"Well, you _are_ dhrunk, Misther Doyle, " said Tim. 

"I hope my breath is not offensive from drink, Mrs. Fay, " said Doyle, in an amatory whisper to the leg of the table. 

"Ah, get out o' that, Misther Doyle, " said Tim; accompanying theexclamation with a good shake, which somewhat roused the prostrateform. 

"Who's there?"

"I want you to come to bed, sir;--eh, don't be so foolish, MistherDoyle. Sure you don't think the misthress would be rowlin' on the flurethere wid you, as dhrunk as a pig----"

"Dare not wound her fame! Who says a word of Mrs. Fay?"

"Arrah, sure you're talkin' there about her this half-hour. "

"False villain!--Whisht, my darling, " said he to the leg of the table;"I'll never betray you. Hug me tight, Mrs. Fay!"

"Bad luck to the care I'll take any more about you, " say Tim. "Sleep onthe flure, if you like. " And Doyle was left to pass the night in thesoft imaginary delights of Mrs. Fay's mahogany embraces. 

How fared it with James Reddy? Alas! poor James was doomed to a nightof torment, the effects of which he remembered for many days after. Infact, had James been left to his choice, he would rather have sleptwith the house-dog than with the doctor; but he dreaded theconsequences of letting old Jack perceive his antipathy; and visions offuture chastisement from the doctor's satirical tongue awed him intosubmission to the present punishment. He sneaked into bed, therefore, and his deep potations ensured him immediate sleep, from which heawoke, however, in the middle of the night in torture, from the deepscratches inflicted upon him by every kick of old Growling. At lastpoor Reddy could stand it no longer, and the earliest hour of dawnrevealed him to the doctor putting on his clothes, swearing like atrooper at one moment, and at the next apostrophising the genius ofgentility. "What it is to have to do with a person that is not agentleman!" he exclaimed, as he pulled on one leg of his trousers. 

"What is the matter with you?" asked old Jack from the bed. 

"The matter, sir, is, that I'm going. "

"Is it at this hour! Tut, man, don't be a fool. Get into bed again. "

"Never, sir, with _you_ at least. I have seldom slept two in a bed, Dr. Growling, for my gentlemanly habits forbid it; but when circumstanceshave obliged me, it has been with gentlemen--_gentlemen_, doctor, " andhe laid a stress on the word--"gentlemen, sir, who cut their toe-nails. Sir, I am a serious sufferer by your coarse habits; you have scratchedme, sir, nearly to death. I am one gore of blood----"

"Tut, man! 't was not my nails scratched you; it was only my spurs Iput on going to bed, to keep you at a distance from me; you were sodisgustingly drunk, my _gentleman_!--look there!" and he poked his legout of bed, and there, sure enough, Reddy saw a spur buckled: and, dumb-foundered at this evidence of the doctor's atrocity, he snatchedup his clothes, and rushed from the room, as from the den of a bear. 

Murphy twisted a beneficial result to M'Garry out of the night'sriotous frolic at his expense; for, in the morning, taking advantage ofthe report of the inquest which he knew must have reached Neck-or-NothingHall, he made a communication to O'Grady, so equivocally worded that theSquire fell into the trap. The note ran as follows:--

 "Sir, --You must be aware that your act of yesterday has raised a strong feeling in the country against you, and that so flagrant a violation of the laws cannot fail to be visited with terrible severity upon you: for, though your position in rank places you far above the condition of the unfortunate man on whom you wreaked your vengeance, you know, sir, that in the eye of the law you are equal, and the shield of justice protects the peasant as well as the prince. Under these circumstances, sir, considering the _awful consequences_ of your ungoverned rage (which, I doubt not, now, you deplore), I would suggest to you by a timely offer of compromise, in the shape of a handsome sum of money--say two hundred pounds--to lull the storms which must otherwise burst on your devoted head, and save your name from dishonour. I anxiously await your answer, as proceedings must instantly commence, and the law take its course, unless Mrs. M'Garry can be pacified. 

 "I have the honour to be, Sir, "Your most obedient Servant, "Murtough Murphy. 

 "_To Gustavus Granby O'Grady, Esq. , Neck-or-Nothing Hall. _"

O'Grady was thoroughly frightened; and strange as it may appear, didbelieve he could compromise for killing only a plebeian; and actuallysent Murphy his note of hand for the sum demanded. Murtough posted offto M'Garry: he and his wife received him with shouts of indignation, and heaped reproaches on his head, for the trick he had played on theapothecary. 

"Oh! Misther Murphy--never look me in the face again!" said Mrs. M'Garry, who was ugly enough to make the request quite unnecessary; "tosend my husband home to me a beast!"

"Striped like a tiger!" said M'Garry. 

"Blacking and pickled cabbage, Misther Murphy!" said the wife. "Oh fie, sir!--I did not think you could be so low. "

"Galvanism!" said M'Garry, furiously. "My professional honour wounded!"

"Whisht, whisht, man!" said Murphy; "there's a finer plaister than anyin your shop for the cure of wounded honour. Look at that!"--and hehanded him the note for two hundred: "there's galvanism for you!"

"What _is_ this?" said M'Garry, in amazement. 

"The result of last night's inquest, " said Murphy. "You have got yourdamages without a trial; so pocket your money, and be thankful. "

The two hundred pounds at once changed the aspect of affairs. M'Garryvowed eternal gratitude, with protestations that Murphy was thecleverest attorney alive, and ought to be chief justice. The wife wasequally vociferous in her acknowledgments, until Murtough, who, when heentered the house, was near falling a sacrifice to the claws of theapothecary's wife, was obliged to rush from the premises to shun themore terrible consequences of her embraces. 

CHAPTER VI

We have sat so long at our dinner, that we have almost lost sight ofpoor Andy, to whom we must now return. When he ran to his mother'scabin, to escape from the fangs of Dick Dawson, there was no onewithin: his mother being digging a few potatoes for supper from thelittle ridge behind her house, and Oonah Riley, her niece--an orphangirl who lived with her--being up to Squire Egan's to sell some eggs;for round the poorest cabins in Ireland you scarcely ever fail to seesome ragged hens, whose eggs are never consumed by their proprietors, except, perhaps, on Easter Sunday, but sold to the neighbouring gentryat a trifling price. 

Andy cared not who was out, or who was in, provided he could onlyescape from Dick; so without asking any questions, he crawled under thewretched bed in the dark corner, where his mother and Oonah slept, andwhere the latter, through the blessed influence of health, youth, andan innocent heart, had brighter dreams than attended many a couch whosedowny pillows and silken hangings would more than purchase thefee-simple of any cabin in Ireland. There Andy, in a state of utterexhaustion from his fears, his race, and his thrashing, soon fellasleep, and the terrors of Dick the Devil gave place to the blessing ofthe profoundest slumber. 

Quite unconscious of the presence of her darling Andy was the widowRooney, as she returned from the potato ridge into her cabin; depositinga _skeough_ of the newly dug esculent at the door, and replacing thespade in its own corner of the cabin. At the same moment Oonahreturned, after disposing of her eggs, and handed the three pence shehad received for them to her aunt, who dropped them into the deeppocket of blue striped tick which hung at her side. 

"Take the pail, Oonah, _ma chree_, and run to the well for some watherto wash the pratees, while I get the pot ready for bilin' them; itwants scourin', for the pig was atin' his dinner out iv it, thecraythur!"

Off went Oonah with her pail, which she soon filled from the clearspring; and placing the vessel on her head, walked back to the cabinwith that beautiful erect form, free step, and graceful swaying of thefigure, so peculiar to the women of Ireland and the East, from theirhabit of carrying weights upon the head. The potatoes were soon washed;and as they got their last dash of water in the _skeough_, whose openwicker-work let the moisture drain from them, up came Larry Hogan, who, being what is called a "civil-spoken man, " addressed Mrs. Rooney in thefollowing agreeable manner:--

"Them's purty pratees, Mrs. Rooney; God save you, ma'am!"

"'Deed an' they are--thank you kindly, Mr. Hogan; God save you andyours too! And how would the woman that owns you be?"

"Hearty, thank you. "

"Will you step in?"

"No, I'm obleeged to you--I must be aff home wid me; but I'll just geta coal for my pipe, for it wint out on me awhile agone with thefright. "

"Well, I've heer'd quare things, Larry Hogan, " said Oonah, laughing andshowing her white teeth; "but I never heer'd so quare a thing as a pipegoin' out with the fright. "

"Oh, how sharp you are!--takin' one up afore they're down. "

"Not afore they're down, Larry; for you said it. "

"Well, if I was down, you were down _on_ me; so you are down too, yousee. Ha, ha! And afther all now, Oonah, a pipe is like a Christian inmany ways: sure it's made o' clay like a Christian, and has the sparko' life in it, and while the breath is in it the spark is alive; butwhen the breath is out of it the spark dies, and then it grows cowldlike a Christian; and isn't it a pleasant companion like a Christian?"

"Faix, some Christians isn't pleasant companions at all!" chimed inMrs. Rooney, sententiously. 

"Well, but they ought to be, " said Larry; "and isn't a pipe sometimescracked like a Christian, and isn't it sometimes choked liked aChristian?"

"Oh, choke you and your pipe together, Larry! will you never havedone?" said the widow. 

"The most improvinist thing in the world is smokin', " said Larry, whohad now relit his pipe, and squatted himself on a three-legged stoolbeside the widow's fire. "The most improvinist in the world"--(paugh!)--anda parenthetical whiff of tobacco-smoke curled out of the corner ofLarry's mouth--"is smokin': for the smoke shows you, as it were, thelife o' man passin' away like a puff--(paugh!)--just like that; and thetibakky turns to ashes like his poor perishable body; for, as the songsays--

 "'Tibakky is an Indian weed, Alive at morn and dead at eve; It lives but an hour, Is cut down like a flower, Think o' this when you're smoking tiba-akky!'"

And Larry sung the ditty as he crammed some of the weed into the bowlof his pipe with his little finger. 

"Why, you're as good as a sarmint this evenin', Larry, " said the widow, as she lifted the iron pot on the fire. 

"There's worse sarmints nor that, I can tell you, " rejoined Larry, whotook up the old song again--

 "'A pipe it larns us all this thing-- 'T is fair without and foul within, Just like a sowl begrim'd with sin. Think o' this when you're smoking tiba-akky!'"

Larry puffed away silently for a few minutes, and when Oonah had placeda few sods of turf round the pot in an upright position, that the flamemight curl upward round them, and so hasten the boiling, she drew astool near the fire, and asked Larry to explain about the fright. 

"Why I was coming up by the cross-road there, when what should I seebut a ghost----"

"A ghost!!!" exclaimed the widow and Oonah, with suppressed voices anddistended mouth and eyes. 

"To all appearance, " said Larry; "but it was only a thing was stuck inthe hedge to freken whoever was passin' by; and as I kem up to it therewas a groan, so I started, and looked at it for a minit, or thereaway;but I seen what it was, and threwn a stone at it, for fear I'd bemistaken: and I heer'd tittherin' inside the hedge, and then I knew't was only devilment of some one. "

"And what was it?" asked Oonah. 

"'T was a horse's head, in throth, with an owld hat on the top of it, and two buck-briars stuck out at each side, and some rags hanging onthem, and an owld breeches shakin' undher the head; 't was justaltogether like a long pale-faced man, with high shouldhers and nobody, and very long arms and short legs:--faith, it frightened me atfirst. "

"And no wondher, " said Oonah. "Dear, but I think I'd lose my life if Iseen the like?"

"But sure, " said the widow, "wouldn't you know that ghosts neverappears by day?"

"Ay, but I hadn't time to think o' that, bein' taken short wid thefright--more betoken, 't was the place the murdher happened in longago. "

"Sure enough, " said the widow. "God betune us and harm!" and she markedherself with the sign of the cross as she spoke; "and a terriblemurdher it was, " added she. 

"How was it?" inquired Oonah, drawing her seat closer to her aunt andLarry. 

"'T was a schoolmaster, dear, that was found dead on the road onemornin', with his head full of fractions, " said the widow. 

"All in jommethry, "[3] said Larry. 

 [3] Anything very badly broken is said by the Irish peasantry to be in "jommethry. "

"And some said he fell off the horse, " said the widow. 

"And more say the horse fell on him, " said Larry. 

"And again, there was some said the horse kicked him in the head, " saidthe widow. 

"And there was talk of shoe-aside, " said Larry. 

"The horse's shoe was it?" asked Oonah. 

"No, _alanna_, " said Larry; "shoe-aside is Latin for cutting yourthroat. "

"But he didn't cut his throat, " said the widow. 

"But sure it's all one whether he done it wid a razhir on his throat, or a hammer on his head; it's shoe-aside all the same. "

"But there was no hammer found, was there?" said the widow. 

"No, " said Larry, "but some people thought he might have hid the hammerafther he done it, to take off the disgrace of the shoe-aside. "

"But wasn't there any life in him when he was found?"

"Not a taste. The crowner's jury sot on him, and he never said a wordagin it, and if he was alive he would. "

"And didn't they find anything at all?" said Oonah. 

"Nothing but the vardict, " said Larry. 

"And was that what killed him?" said Oonah. 

"No, my dear; 't was the crack in the head that killed him, however hekem by it; but the vardict o' the crowner was, that it was done, andthat some one did it, and that they wor blackguards, whoever they wor, and persons onknown; and sure if they wor onknown then, they'd alwaysstay so, for who'd know them afther doing the like?"

"Thrue for you, Larry, " said the widow; "but what was that to themurdher over at the green hills beyant?"

"Oh! that was the terriblest murdher ever was in the place, or nigh it:that was the murdher in earnest!"

With that eagerness which always attends the relation of horriblestories, Larry and the old woman raked up every murder and robbery thathad occurred within their recollection, while Oonah listened with mixedcuriosity and fear. The boiling over of the pot at length recalled themto a sense of the business that ought to be attended to at the moment, and Larry was invited to take share of the potatoes. This he declined;declaring, as he had done some time previously, that he must "be offhome, " and to the door he went accordingly; but as the evening hadclosed into the darkness of the night, he paused on opening it with asensation he would not have liked to own. The fact was that, after thediscussion of numerous nightly murders, he would rather have haddaylight on the outside of the cabin; for the horrid stories that hadbeen revived round the blazing hearth were not the best preparation forgoing a lonely road on a dark night. But go he should, and go he did;and it is not improbable that the widow, from sympathy, had a notionwhy Larry paused upon the threshold; for the moment he had crossed it, and that they had exchanged their "Good night, and God speed you, " thedoor was rapidly closed and bolted. The widow returned to the firesideand was silent, while Oonah looked by the light of a candle into theboiling pot, to ascertain if the potatoes were yet done, and cast afearful glance up the wide chimney as she withdrew from the inspection. 

"I wish Larry did not tell us such horrid stories, " said she, as shelaid the rushlight on the table; "I'll be dhramin' all night o' them. "

"'Deed an' that's thrue, " said the widow; "I wish he hadn't. "

"Sure you was as bad yourself, " said Oonah. 

"Troth, an' I b'lieve I was, child, and I'm sorry for it now: but letus ate our supper, and go to bed, in God's name. "

"I'm afeared o' my life to go to bed!" said Oonah. "Wisha! but I'd givethe world it was mornin'. "

"Ate your supper, child, ate your supper, " said her aunt, giving theexample, which was followed by Oonah; and after the light meal, theirprayers were said, and perchance with a little extra devotion, fromtheir peculiar state of mind; then to bed they went. The rushlightbeing extinguished, the only light remaining was that shed from the redembers of the decaying fire, which cast so uncertain a glimmer withinthe cabin, that its effect was almost worse than utter darkness to atimid person; for any object within its range assumed a form unlike itsown, and presented some fantastic image to the eye; and as Oonah, contrary to her usual habit, could not fall asleep the moment she wentto bed, she could not resist peering forth from under the bed-clothesthrough the uncertain gloom, in a painful state of watchfulness, whichbecame gradually relaxed into an uneasy sleep. 

The night was about half spent when Andy began to awake; and as hestretched his arms, and rolled his whole body round, he struck thebottom of the bed above him in the action and woke his mother. "Dearme, " thought the widow, "I can't sleep at all to-night. " Andy gaveanother turn soon after, which roused Oonah. She started, and shakingher aunt, asked her, in a low voice, if it was she who kicked her, though she scarcely hoped an answer in the affirmative, and yet darednot believe what her fears whispered. 

"No, _a cushla_, " whispered the aunt. 

"Did _you_ feel anything?" asked Oonah, trembling violently. 

"What do you mane, _alanna_?" said the aunt. 

Andy gave another roll. "There it is again!" gasped Oonah; and in awhisper, scarcely above her breath, she added, "Aunt--there's some oneunder the bed!"

The aunt did not answer; but the two women drew closer together andheld each other in their arms, as if their proximity affordedprotection. Thus they lay in breathless fear for some minutes, whileAndy began to be influenced by a vision, in which the duel, and thechase, and the thrashing were all enacted over again, and soon an oddword began to escape from the dream. "Gi' me the pist'l, Dick--thepist'l!"

"There are two of them!" whispered Oonah. "God be merciful to us! Doyou hear him asking for the pistol?"

"Screech!" said her aunt. 

"I can't, " said Oonah. 

Andy was quiet for some time, while the women scarcely breathed. 

"Suppose we get up, and make for the door?" said the aunt. 

"I wouldn't put my foot out of the bed for the world, " said Oonah. "I'mafeard one o' them will catch me by the leg. "

"Howld him! howld him!" grumbled Andy. 

"I'll die with the fright, aunt! I feel I'm dyin'! Let us say ourprayers, aunt, for we're goin' to be murdhered!" The two women began torepeat with fervour their _aves_ and _paternosters_, while at thisimmediate juncture, Andy's dream having borne him to the dirty ditchwhere Dick Dawson had pommelled him, he began to vociferate, "Murder, murder!" so fiercely, that the women screamed together in an agony ofterror, and "Murder! murder!" was shouted by the whole party; for, oncethe widow and Oonah found their voices, they made good use of them. Thenoise awoke Andy, who had, be it remembered, a tolerably long sleep bythis time: and he having quite forgotten where he had lain down, andfinding himself confined by the bed above him, and smothering for wantof air, with the fierce shouts of murder ringing in his ear, woke in asgreat a fright as the women in the bed, and became a party in theterror he himself had produced; every plunge he gave under the bedinflicted a poke or a kick on his mother and cousin, which was answeredby the cry of "Murder!"

"Let me out--let me out, Misther Dick!" roared Andy. "Where am I atall? Let me out!"

"Help! help! murdher!" roared the women. 

"I'll never shoot any one again, Misther Dick--let me up!"

Andy scrambled from under the bed, half awake, and whole frightened bythe darkness and the noise, which was now increased by the barking ofthe cur-dog. 

"Hie at him, Coaly!" roared Mrs. Rooney; "howld him! howld him!"

Now as this address was often made to the cur respecting the pig, whenMrs. Rooney sometimes wanted a quiet moment in the day, and the pigdidn't like quitting the premises, the dog ran to the corner of thecabin where the pig habitually lodged, and laid hold of his ear withthe strongest testimonials of affection, which polite attention the pigacknowledged by a prolonged squealing, that drowned the voices of thewomen and Andy together; and now the cocks and hens that were roostingon the rafters of the cabin were startled by the din, and the crowingand cackling and the flapping of the frightened fowls, as they flewabout in the dark, added to the general uproar and confusion. 

"A--h!" screamed Oonah, "take your hands off me!" as Andy, getting fromunder the bed, laid his hand upon it to assist him, and caught a gripof his cousin. 

"Who are you at all?" cried Andy, making another claw, and catchinghold of his mother's nose. 

"Oonah, they're murdhering me!" shouted the widow. 

The name of Oonah, and the voice of his mother, recalled his senses toAndy, who shouted, "Mother, mother! what's the matter?" A frightenedhen flew in his face, and nearly knocked Andy down. "Bad cess to you, "cried Andy, "what do you hit me for?"

"Who are you at all?" cried the widow. 

"Don't you know me?" said Andy. 

"No, I don't know you; by the vartue o' my oath, I don't; and I'llnever swear again you, jintlemen, if you lave the place and spare ourlives!"

Here the hens flew against the dresser, and smash went the plates anddishes. 

"Oh, jintlemen dear, don't rack and ruin me that way: don't destroy alone woman. "

"Mother, mother, what's this at all? Don't you know your own Andy?"

"Is it you that's there?" cried the widow, catching hold of him. 

"To be sure it's me, " said Andy. 

"You won't let us be murdhered, will you?"

"Who'd murdher you?"

"Them people that's with you. " Smash went another plate. "Do you hearthat?--they're rackin' my place, the villains!"

"Divil a one's wid me at all!" said Andy. 

"I'll take my oath there was three or four under the bed, " said Oonah. 

"Not one but myself, " said Andy. 

"Are you sure?" said his mother. 

"Cock sure!" said Andy, and a loud crowing gave evidence in favour ofhis assertion. 

"The fowls is going mad, " said the widow. 

"And the pig's distracted, " said Oonah. 

"No wonder! the dog's murdherin' him, " said Andy. 

"Get up, and light the rushlight, Oonah, " said the widow: "you'll get aspark out o' the turf cendhers. "

"Some o' them will catch me, maybe, " said Oonah. 

"Get up, I tell you!" said the widow. 

Oonah now arose, and groped her way to the fireplace, where, by dint ofblowing upon the embers and poking the rushlight among the turf ashes, a light was at length obtained. She then returned to the bed, and threwher petticoat over her shoulders. 

"What's this at all?" said the widow, rising, and wrapping a blanketround her. 

"Bad cess to the know I know!" said Andy. 

"Look under the bed, Oonah, " said the aunt. 

Oonah obeyed, and screamed, and ran behind Andy. "There's another hereyet!" said she. 

Andy seized the poker, and, standing on the defensive, desired thevillain to come out: the demand was not complied with. 

"There's nobody there, " said Andy. 

"I'll take my oath there is, " said Oonah; "a dirty blackguard, withoutany clothes on him. "

"Come out, you robber!" said Andy, making a lunge under the truckle. 

A grunt ensued, and out rushed the pig, who had escaped from thedog--the dog having discovered a greater attraction in some fat thatwas knocked from the dresser, which the widow intended for the dippingof rushes in; but the dog being enlightened to his own interest withoutrushlights, and preferring mutton fat to pig's ear, had suffered thegrunter to go at large, while he was captivated by the fat. The clinkof a three-legged stool the widow seized to the rescue was a strongerargument against the dog than he was prepared to answer, and a remnantof fat was preserved from the rapacious Coaly. 

"Where's the rest o' the robbers?" said Oonah; "there's three o' them, I know. "

"You're dhramin', " said Andy. "Divil a robber is here but myself. "

"And what brought you here?" said his mother. 

[Illustration: Andy's Welcome Home]

"I was afeard they'd murdher me!" said Andy. 

"Murdher!" exclaimed the widow and Oonah together, still startled bythe very sound of the word. "Who do you mane?"

"Misther Dick, " said Andy. 

"Aunt, I tell you, " said Oonah, "this is some more of Andy's blundhers. Sure Misther Dawson wouldn't be goin' to murdher any one; let us lookround the cabin, and find out who's in it, for I won't be aisy ontil Ilook into every corner, to see there's no robbers in the place: for Itell you again, there was three o' them undher the bed. "

The search was made, and the widow and Oonah at length satisfied thatthere were no midnight assassins there with long knives to cut theirthroats; and then they began to thank God that their lives were safe. 

"But, oh! look at my chaynee!" said the widow, clasping her hands, andcasting a look of despair at the shattered delf that lay around her;"look at my chaynee!"

"And what _was_ it brought _you_ here?" said Oonah, facing round onAndy, with a dangerous look, rather, in her bright eye. "Will you tellus that--what _was_ it?"

"I came to save my life, I tell you, " said Andy. 

"To put us in dhread of ours, you mane, " said Oonah. "Just look at the_omadhaun_ there, " said she to her aunt, "standin' with his mouth open, just as if nothin' happened, and he after frightening the lives out ofus. "

"Thrue for you, _alanna_, " said her aunt. 

"And would no place sarve you, indeed, but undher our bed, you vagabone?"said his mother, roused to a sense of his delinquency; "to come in likea merodin' villain as you are, and hide under the bed, and frighten thelives out of us, and rack and ruin my place!"

"'T was Misther Dick, I tell you, " said Andy. 

"Bad scran to you, you unlucky hangin' bone thief!" cried the widow, seizing him by the hair, and giving him a hearty cuff on the ear, whichwould have knocked him down, only that Oonah kept him up by an equallywell-applied box on the other. 

"Would you murdher me?" shouted Andy, as he saw his mother lay hold ofthe broom. 

"Aren't you afther frightenin' the lives out of us, you dirty, good-for-nothing, mischief-making----"

On poured the torrent of abuse, rendered more impressive by a whack atevery word. Andy roared, and the more he roared, the more did Oonah andhis mother thrash him. 

CHAPTER VII

 "Love rules the camp, the court, the grove, And men below and saints above: For Love is Heaven, and Heaven is Love--"

So sang Scott. Quite agreeing with the antithesis of the last line, perhaps in the second, where he talks of men and saints, another viewof the subject, or turn of the phrase, might have introduced sinnersquite as successfully. This is said without the smallest intention ofusing the word _sinners_ in a questionable manner. Love, in its purestshape, may lead to sinning on the part of persons least interested inthe question; for is it not a sin when the folly, or caprice, orselfishness of a third party or fourth makes a trio or quartette ofthat which nature undoubtedly intended for a duet, and so spoils it?

Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts--ay, and evencousins--sometimes put in their oar to disturb that stream which istroubled enough without their interference, and, as the Bard of Avonsays, "Never did run smooth. "

And so it was in the case of Fanny Dawson and Edward O'Connor. A pieceof innocent fun on the part of her brother, and blind pertinacity--indeed, downright absurdity--on her father's side, interrupted the intercourseof affection, which had subsisted silently for many a long day betweenthe lovers, but was acknowledged, at last, with delight to the two whomit most concerned, and satisfaction to all who knew or held them dear. Yet the harmony of this sweet concordance of spirits was marred byyouthful frolic and doting absurdity. This welding together of heartsin the purest fire of nature's own contriving was broken at a blow by aweak old man. Is it too much to call this _a sin_? Less mischievousthings are branded with the name in the common-place parlance of theworld. The cold and phlegmatic may not understand this; but they who_can_ love know how bitterly every after-hour of life may be poisonedwith the taint which hapless love has infused into the current offuture years, and can believe how many a heart equal to the highestenterprise has been palsied by the touch of despair. Sweet and holy isthe duty of child to parent; but sacred also is the obligation of thosewho govern in so hallowed a position. Their rule should be guided byjustice; they should pray for judgment in their mastery. 

Fanny Dawson's father was an odd sort of person. His ancestors weresettlers in Ireland of the time of William the Third, and having wontheir lands by the sword, it is quite natural the love of arms shouldhave been hereditary in the family. Mr. Dawson, therefore, had servedmany years as a soldier, and was a bit of a martinet, not only inmilitary but all other affairs. His mind was of so tenacious acharacter, that an impression once received there became indelible; andif the Major once made up his mind, or indulged the belief, that suchand such things were so and so, the waters of truth could never washout the mistake--stubbornness had written them there with her ownindelible marking-ink. 

Now, one of the old gentleman's weak points was a museum of the mostheterogeneous nature, consisting of odds and ends from all parts of theworld, and appertaining to all subjects. Nothing was too high or toolow: a bronze helmet from the plains of Marathon, which, to the classiceye of an artist, conveyed the idea of a Minerva's head beneath it, would not have been more prized by the Major than a cavalry cap withsome bullet-mark of which _he could tell an anecdote_. A certain skinof a tiger he prized much, because the animal had dined on his dearestfriend in one of the jungles of Bengal; also a pistol which he vouchedfor as being the one with which Hatfield fired at George the Third; thehammer with which Crawley (of Hessian-boot memory) murdered hislandlady; the string which was on Viotti's violin when he played beforeQueen Charlotte; the horn which was _supposed_ to be in the lantern ofGuy Fawkes; a small piece of the coat worn by the Prince of Orange onhis landing in England; and other such relics. But far above these, theMajor prized the skeleton of a horse's head, which occupied theprincipal place in his museum. This he declared to be part of theidentical horse which bore Duke Schomberg when he crossed the Boyne, inthe celebrated battle so called; and with whimsical ingenuity, he hadcontrived to string some wires upon the bony fabric, which yielded asort of hurdy-gurdy vibration to the strings when touched: and theMajor's most favourite feat was to play the tune of the Boyne Water onthe head of Duke Schomberg's horse. In short, his collection was composedof trifles from north, south, east, and west: some leaf from theprodigal verdure of India, or gorgeous shell from the Pacific, or pawof bear, or tooth of walrus; but beyond all teeth, one pre-eminentlywas valued--it was one of his own, which he had lost the use of by awound in the jaw, received in action; and no one ever entered his houseand escaped without hearing all about it, from the first shot fired inthe affair by the skirmishers, to the last charge of the victoriouscavalry. The tooth was always produced along with the story, togetherwith the declaration, that every dentist who ever saw it protested itwas the largest human tooth ever seen. Now some little sparring was notunfrequent between old Mr. Dawson and Edward, on the subject of theirrespective museums: the old gentleman "pooh-poohing" Edward's "rottenrusty rubbish, " as he called it, and Edward defending, as gently as hecould, his patriotic partiality for natural antiquities. This littlewar never led to any evil results; for Edward not only loved Fanny toowell, but respected age too much to lean hard on the old gentleman'sweakness, or seek to reduce his fancied superiority as a collector; butthe tooth, the ill-omened tooth, at last gnawed asunder the bond offriendship and affection which had subsisted between the two familiesfor so many years. 

The Major had paraded his tooth so often, that Dick Dawson began totire of it, and for the purpose of making it a source of amusement tohimself, he stole his father's keys, one day, and opening the cabinetin which his tooth was enshrined, he abstracted the grinder whichnature had bestowed on the Major, and substituted in its stead ahorse's tooth of no contemptible dimensions. A party some days afterdined with the old gentleman, and after dinner the story of theskirmish turned up, as a matter of course, and the enormous size of thetooth wound up the tedious tale. 

"Hadn't you better show it to them, sir?" said Dick, from the foot ofthe table. 

"Indeed, then, I will, " said the Major, "for it really is a curiosity. "

"Let me go for it, sir, " said Dick, well knowing he would be refused. 

"No, no, " answered his father, rising; "I never let any one go to mypet cabinet but myself;" and so saying he left the room, and proceededto his museum. It has been already said, that the Major's mind was ofthat character, which once being satisfied of anything could never beconvinced of the contrary; and having for years been in the habit ofdrawing his own tooth out of his own cabinet, the increased size of theone which he now extracted from it never struck him; so he returned tothe dining-room, and presented with great exultation to the company thetooth Dick had substituted. It may be imagined how the people stared, when an old gentleman, and moreover a major, declared upon his honour, that a great horse's tooth was his own; but having done so, politenessforbade they should contradict him, more particularly at the head ofhis own table, so they smothered their smiles as well as they could, and declared it was the most wonderful tooth they ever beheld: andinstead of attempting to question the fact, they launched forth inexpressions of admiration and surprise, and the fable, instead of beingquestioned, was received with welcome, and made food for mirth. Thedifficulty was not to laugh; and in the midst of twisted mouths, affected sneezing, and applications of pocket-handkerchiefs torebellious cachinnations, Dick, the maker of the joke, sat unmoved, sipping his claret with a serenity which might have roused the envy ofa Red Indian. 

"I think that's something like a tooth!" said Dick. 

"Prodigious--wonderful--tremendous!" ran round the board. 

"Give it to me again, " said one. 

"Let me look at it once more, " said another. 

"Colossal!" exclaimed a third. 

"Gigantic!" shouted all, as the tooth made the circuit of the table. 

The Major was delighted, and never remembered his tooth to have createdsuch a sensation; and when at last it was returned to him, he turned itabout in his own hand, and cast many fond glances at the monstrosity, before it was finally deposited in his waistcoat pocket. This was themost ridiculous part of the exhibition: to see a gentleman, with theuse of his eyes, looking affectionately at a thumping horse's tooth, and believing it to be his own. Yet this was a key to the Major's wholecharacter. A received opinion was with him unchangeable, no alterationof circumstances could shake it: _it was his tooth_. A belief or adoubt was equally sacred with him; and though his senses in the presentcase should have shown him it was a horse's tooth--no, it was a pieceof himself--his own dear tooth. 

After this party, the success which crowned his anecdote and itsattendant relic made him fonder of showing it off; and many a day didDick the Devil enjoy the astonishment of visitors as his fatherexhibited the enormous tooth as his own. Fonder and fonder grew theMajor of his tooth and his story, until the unlucky day Edward O'Connorhappened to be in the museum with a party of ladies, to whom the oldgentleman was showing off his treasures with great effect and somepains; for the Major, like most old soldiers, was very attentive to thefair sex. At last the pet cabinet was opened, and out came the tooth. One universal exclamation of surprise arose on its appearance: "What awonderful man the Major was to have such a tooth!" Just then, by anunlucky chance, Edward, who had not seen the Major produce the wonderfrom his cabinet, perceived the relic in the hand of one of the ladiesat the extremity of the group, and, fancying it had dropped from thehorse's head, he said--

"I suppose that is one of the teeth out of old Schomberg's skull. "

The Major thought this an impertinent allusion to his political bias, and said, very sharply, "What do you mean by old Schomberg?"

"The horse's head, sir, " replied Edward, pointing to the musical relic. 

"It was of _my_ tooth you spoke, sir, when you said 'old Schomberg, '"returned the Major, still more offended at what he considered Edward'sevasion. 

"I assure you, " said Edward, with the strongest evidence of a desire tobe reconciled in his voice and manner--"I assure you, sir, it was of_this_ tooth I spoke;" and he held up the tooth the Major hadproduced as his own. 

"I know it was, sir, " said the Major, "and therefore I didn't relishyour allusions to my tooth. "

"_Your_ tooth, sir?" exclaimed Edward, in surprise. 

"Yes, sir, mine!"

"My dear sir, " said Edward, "there is some mistake here; this is ahorse's tooth. "

"Give it to me, sir!" said the Major, snatching it from Edward. "Youmay think this very witty, Mr. O'Connor, but _I_ don't; if my tooth isof superhuman size, I'm not to be called a horse for it, sir;--norSchomberg, sir!--horse--ahem! better than ass, however. "

While this brief but angry outbreak took place, the bystanders, ofcourse, felt excessively uncomfortable; and poor Edward knew not whatto do. The Major he knew to be of too violent a temper to attemptexplanation for the present: so bowing to the ladies, he left the room, with that flushed look of silent vexation to which courteous youth issometimes obliged to submit at the hands of intemperate age. 

Neither Fanny nor Dick was at home when this occurred, so Edwardquitted the house, and was forbidden to enter it afterwards. The Majorsuddenly entertained a violent dislike to Edward O'Connor, and hatedeven to hear his name mentioned. It was in vain that explanation wasattempted; his self-love had received a violent shock, of which Edwardhad been the innocent means. In vain did Dick endeavour to make himselfthe peace-offering to his father's wounded consequence; in vain was itmanifest that Fanny was grieved: the old Major persisted in declaringthat Edward O'Connor was a self-sufficient jackanapes, and forbade mostperemptorily that further intercourse should take place between him andhis daughter; and she had too high a sense of duty, and he of honour, to seek to violate the command. But though they never met, they lovednot the less fondly and truly; and Dick, grieved that a frolic of hisshould have interrupted the happiness of a sister he loved and a friendhe valued, kept up a sort of communion between them by talking toEdward about Fanny, and to Fanny about Edward, whose last song wassure, through the good offices of the brother, to find its way into thesister's album, already stored with many a tribute from her lover'smuse. 

Fanny was a sweet creature--one of those choice and piquant bits ofNature's creation which she sometimes vouchsafes to treat the worldwith, just to show what she _can_ do. Her person I shall not attempt todescribe; for however one may endeavour to make words play the part ofcolour, lineament, voice, and expression--and however successfully--stilla verbal description can never convey a true notion of personal charms;and personal charms Fanny had, decidedly; not that she was strictlybeautiful, but, at times, nevertheless, eclipsing beauty far moreregular, and throwing symmetry into the shade, by some charm which eventhey whom it fascinated could not define. 

Her mind was as clear and pure as a mountain stream; and if at times itchafed and was troubled from the course in which it ran, the temporaryturbulence only made its limpid depth and quietness more beautiful. Herheart was the very temple of generosity, the throne of honour, and theseat of tenderness. The gentlest sympathies dwelt in her soul, andanswered to the slightest call of another's grief; while mirth wasdancing in her eye, a word that implied the sorrow of another wouldbring a tear there. She was the sweetest creature in the world!

The old Major, used to roving habits from his profession, would oftengo on a ramble somewhere for weeks together, at which times Fanny wentto Merryvale to her sister, Mistress Egan, who was also a fine-heartedcreature, but less soft and sentimental than Fanny. She was of thedashing school rather, and before she became the mother of so large afamily, thought very little of riding over a gate or a fence. Indeed, it was her high mettle that won her the squire's heart. The story isnot long, and it may as well be told here--though a little out ofplace, perhaps; but it's an Irish story, and may therefore be gentlyirregular. 

The squire had admired Letitia Dawson, as most of the young men of heracquaintance did--appreciated her round waist and well-turned ankle, her spirited eyes and cheerful laugh, and danced with her at every ballas much as any other fine girl in the country: but never seriouslythought of her as a wife, until one day a party visited the parishchurch, whose old tower was often ascended for the fine view itcommanded. At this time the tower was under repair, and the masons weredrawing up materials in a basket, which, worked by rope and pulley, swung on a beam protruding from the top of the tower. The basket hadjust been lowered for a fresh load of stones, when Letitia exclaimed, "Wouldn't it be fine fun to get into the basket, and be hauled up tothe top of the tower?--how astonished the workmen would be to see alady get out of it!"

"I would be more astonished to see a lady get into it, " said agentleman present. 

"Then here goes to astonish you, " said Letitia, laying hold of the ropeand jumping into the basket. In vain did her friends and the workmenbelow endeavour to dissuade her; up she would go, and up she did go;and it was during her ascent that Egan and a friend were riding towardsthe church. Their attention was attracted by so strange a sight: and, spurring onward, Egan exclaimed, "By the powers! 't is Letty Dawson!Well done, Letty!--you're the right girl for my money! By Jove! if everI marry, Letty's the woman. " And sure enough she _was_ the woman, in another month. 

Now, Fanny would not have done the basket feat, but she had plenty offun in her, notwithstanding; her spirits were light; and though, forsome time, she felt deeply the separation from Edward, she ralliedafter a while, felt that unavailing sorrow but impaired the health ofthe mind, and, supported by her good sense, she waited in hopefulnessfor the time that Edward might claim and win her. 

At Merryvale now all was expectation about the anticipated election. The ladies were making up bows of ribbon for their partizans, and Fannyhad been so employed all the morning alone in the drawing-room; herpretty fingers pinching, and pressing, and stitching the silkenfavours, while now and then her hand wandered to a wicker-basket whichlay beside her, to draw forth a scissors or a needlecase. As sheworked, a shade of thought crossed her sweet face, like a passing cloudacross the sun; the pretty fingers stopped--the work was laid down--anda small album gently drawn from the neighbouring basket. She opened thebook and read; they were lines of Edward O'Connor's which she drankinto her heart; they were the last he had written, which her brotherhad heard him sing and had brought her

 THE SNOW

 I

 An old man sadly said, "Where's the snow That fell the year that's fled?-- Where's the snow?" As fruitless were the task Of many a joy to ask, As the snow!

 II

 The hope of airy birth, Like the snow, Is stain'd on reaching earth, Like the snow: While 't is sparkling in the ray, 'T is melting fast away, Like the snow!

 III

 A cold, deceitful thing Is the snow, Though it come on dove-like wing-- The false snow! 'T is but rain disguised appears; And our hopes are frozen tears, Like the snow!

A tear _did_ course down Fanny's cheek as she read the last couplet;and closing the book and replacing it in the little basket, she sighed, and said, "Poor fellow!--I wish he were not so sad!"

CHAPTER VIII

Love is of as many patterns, cuts, shapes, and colours as people'sgarments; and the loves of Edward O'Connor and Fanny Dawson had verylittle resemblance to the tender passion which agitated the breast ofthe Widow Flanagan, and made Tom Durfy her slave. Yet the widow and Tomdemand the offices of the chronicler as well as the more elevated pair;and this our veracious history could never get on, if we exhausted allour energies upon the more engaging personages, to the neglect of therest: your plated handles, scrolls, and mountings are all very well onyour carriage, but it could not move without its plain iron bolts. 

Now the reader must know something of the fair Mistress Flanagan whowas left in very comfortable circumstances by a niggardly husband, whodid her the favour to die suddenly one day, to the no small satisfactionof the pleasure-loving widow, who married him in an odd sort of a hurry, and got rid of him as quickly. Mr. Flanagan was engaged in supplying theexport provision trade, which, every one knows, is considerable inIreland; and his dealings in beef and butter were extensive. Thisbrought him into contact with the farmers for many miles round, whom hemet, not only every market-day at every market-town in the county, butat their own houses, where a knife and fork were always at the serviceof the rich buyer. One of these was a certain Mat Riley, who, on smallmeans, managed to live, and rear a son and three bouncing, good-lookinggirls, who helped to make butter, feed calves, and superintend theeducation of pigs; and on these active and comely lasses Mr. Flanaganoften cast an eye of admiration, with a view to making one of them hiswife; for though he might have had his pick and choice of many finegirls in the towns he dealt in, he thought the simple, thrifty, andindustrious habits of a plain farmer's daughter more likely to conduceto his happiness and _profit_--for in that principally lay the aforesaidhappiness of Mr. Flanagan. Now, this intention of honouring one of thethree Miss Rileys with promotion he never hinted at in the remotestdegree, and even in his own mind the thought was mixed up with fatcattle and prices current; and it was not until a leisure moment oneday, when he was paying Mat Riley for some of his farming produce, thathe broached the subject thus:

"Mat. " "Sir. "

"I'm thinking o' marrying. "

"Well, she'll have a snug house, whoever she is, Misther Flanagan. "

"Them's fine girls o' yours. "

Poor Mat opened his eyes with delight at the prospect of such a matchfor one of his daughters, and said they were "comely lumps o' girls, sure enough; but, what was betther, they wor good. "

"That's what I'm thinking, " says Flanagan. "There's two ten-poun'notes, and a five, and one is six, and one is seven; and three tenpinniesis two-and-sixpence; that's twenty-seven poun' two-and-sixpence:eight-pence-ha'penny is the lot; but I haven't copper in my company, Mat. "

"Oh, no matther, Misther Flanagan. And is it one o' my colleens you'vebeen throwing the eye at, sir?"

"Yes, Mat, it is. You're askin' too much for them firkins?"

"Oh, Misther Flanagan, consider it's prime butther. I'll back my girlsfor making up a bit o' butther agen any girls in Ireland; and my cowsis good, and the pasture prime. "

"'T is a farthing a poun' too high, Mat; and the market not lively. "

"The butther is good, Mr. Flanagan; and not decenther girls in Irelandthan the same girls, though I'm their father. "

"I'm thinking I'll marry one o' them, Mat. "

"Sure, an' it's proud I'll be, sir; and which o' them is it, maybe?"

"Faith, I don't know myself, Mat. Which do you think yourself?"

"Throth, myself doesn't know--they're all good. Nance is nice, andBiddy's biddable, and Kitty's cute. "

"You're a snug man, Mat; you ought to be able to give a husband atrifle with them. "

"Nothing worth _your_ while, anyhow, Misther Flanagan. But sure one o'my girls without a rag to her back, or a tack to her feet, would bebetther help to an honest industherin' man than one o' your showylantherumswash divils out of a town, that would spend more than she'dbring with her. "

"That's thrue, Mat. I'll marry one o' your girls, I think. "

"You'll have my blessin', sir; and proud I'll be--and proud the girlought to be--_that_ I'll say. And suppose, now, you'd come over onSunday, and take share of a plain man's dinner, and take your pick o'the girls--there's a fine bull goose that Nance towld me she'd haveready afther last mass; for Father Ulick said he'd come and dine withus. "

"I can't, Mat; I must be in the canal boat on Sunday; but I'll go andbreakfast with you to-morrow, on my way to Bill Mooney's, who has afine lot of pigs to sell--remarkable fine pigs. "

"Well, we'll expect you to breakfast, sir. "

"Mat, there must be no nonsense about the wedding. "

"As you plase, sir. "

"Just marry her off, and take her home. Short reckonings make longfriends. "

"Thrue for you, sir. "

"Nothing to give with the girl, you say?"

"My blessin' only, sir. "

"Well, you must throw in that butther, Mat, and take the farthin' off. "

"It's yours, sir, " said Mat, delighted, loading Flanagan with "Goodbyes, " and "God save yous, " until they should meet next morning atbreakfast. 

Mat rode home in great glee at the prospect of providing so well for oneof his girls, and told them a man would be there the next morning tomake choice of one of them for his wife. The girls, very naturally, inquired who the man was; to which Mat, in the plenitude of patriarchalpower, replied, "that was nothing to them;" and his daughters hadsufficient experience of his temper to know there was no use in askingmore questions after such an answer. He only added, she would be "welloff that should get him. " Now, their father being such a curmudgeon, it is no wonder the girls were willing to take the chance of agood-humoured husband instead of an iron-handed father; so they set towork to make themselves as smart as possible for the approaching trialof their charms, and a battle royal ensued between the sisters as tothe right and title to certain pieces of dress which were hithertoconsidered a sort of common property amongst them, and of which theoccasion of a fair, or a pattern, [4] or market-day was enough toestablish the possession, by whichever of the girls went to the publicplace; but now, when a husband was to be won, privilege of all sorts waspleaded, in which discussion there was more noise than sound reason, andso many violent measures to secure the envied _morceaux_, that somedestruction of finery took place where there was none to spare; and, atlast, seniority was agreed upon to decide the question; so that whenNance had the first plunder of the chest which held all their clothes incommon, and Biddy made the second grab, poor Kitty had little left buther ordinary rags to appear in. But as, in the famous judgment on Ida'sMount, it is hinted that Venus carried the day by her scarcity ofdrapery, so did Kitty conquer by want of clothes: not that Love sat injudgment; it was Plutus turned the scale. But, to leave metaphor andclassic illustration, and go back to Mat Riley's cabin--the girls werewashing, and starching, and ironing all night, and the morning sawthem arrayed for conquest. Flanagan came, and breakfasted, and saw thethree girls. A flashy silk handkerchief which Nancy wore put her _horsde combat_ very soon; she was set down at once, in his mind, asextravagant. Biddy might have had a chance if she had made anythinglike a fair division with her youngest sister; but Kitty had been soplundered, that her shabbiness won an easy victory over the niggard'sheart: he saw in her "the making of a thrifty wife;" besides which, shewas possibly the best looking, and certainly the youngest of the three;and there is no knowing how far old Flanagan might have been influencedby those considerations. 

 [4] A half-holy, half-merry meeting, held at some certain place, on the day dedicated to the saint who is supposed to be the PATRON of the spot--hence the name "PATTERN. "

He spoke very little to any of the girls; but, when he was leaving thehouse, he said to the father, as he was shaking hands with him, "Mat, I'll do it;" and, pointing to Kitty, he added, "That's the one I'llhave. "

Great was the rage of the elder sisters, for Flanagan was notoriously awealthy man; and when he quitted the house, Kitty set up such a shoutof laughter, that her father and sisters told her several times "not tomake a fool of herself. " Still she laughed, and throughout the daysometimes broke out into sudden roars; and while her sides shook withmerriment, she would throw herself into a chair, or lean against thewall, to rest herself after the fatigue of her uproarious mirth. NowKitty, while she laughed at the discomfiture of her greedy sisters, also laughed at the mistake into which Flanagan had fallen; for, as herfather said of her, she was, "'cute, " and she more than suspected thecause of Flanagan's choice, and enjoyed the anticipation of hisdisappointment, for she was fonder of dress than either Nancy or Biddy, and revelled in the notion of astonishing "the old niggard, " as shecalled him; and this she did "many a time and oft. " In vain didFlanagan try to keep her extravagance within bounds. She would eitherwheedle, reason, bully, or shame him into doing what she said "wasright and proper for a snug man like him. " His house was soon wellfurnished: she made him get her a jaunting car. She sometimes _would_go to parties, and no one was better dressed than the woman he chosefor her rags. He got enraged now and then, but Kitty pacified him bysoft words and daring inventions of her fertile fancy. Once, when hecaught her in the fact of wearing a costly crimson silk gown, andstormed, she soothed him by telling him it was her old black one shehad dyed; and this bouncer, to the great amusement of her femalefriends, he loved to repeat, as a proof of what a careful contrivingcreature he had in Kitty. She was naturally quick-witted. She managedhim admirably, deceived him into being more comfortable than ever hehad been before, and had the laudable ambition of endeavouring toimprove both his and her own condition in every way. She set abouteducating herself, too, as far as her notions of education went; and, in a few years after her marriage, by judiciously using the means whichher husband's wealth afforded her of advancing her position in society, no one could have recognised in the lively and well-dressed Mrs. Flanagan the gawky daughter of a middling farmer. She was verygood-natured, too, towards her sisters, whose condition she took careto improve with her own; and a very fair match for the eldest was madethrough her means. The younger one was often staying in her house, dividing her time nearly between the town and her father's farm, and noparty which Mrs. Flanagan gave or appeared at went off without givingBiddy a chance to "settle herself in the world. " This was not donewithout a battle now and then with old Flanagan, whose stinginess wouldexhibit itself upon occasion; but at last all let and hindrance to themerry lady ceased, by the sudden death of her old husband, who left herthe entire of his property, so that, for the first time, his _will_ washer pleasure. 

After the funeral of the old man, the "disconsolate widow" waswithdrawn from her own house by her brother and sister to the farm, which grew to be a much more comfortable place than when Kitty left;for to have remained in her own house after the loss of "her good man"would have been too hard on "the lone woman. " So said her sister andher brother, though, to judge from the widow's eyes, she was not veryheart-broken: she cried as much, no doubt, as young widows generally doafter old husbands--and could Kitty be expected to do more?

She had not been many days in her widowhood, when Biddy asked her todrive into the town, where Biddy had to do a little shopping--thatgreat business of ladies' lives. 

"Oh, Biddy, dear, I must not go out so soon. "

"'T will do you good, Kitty. "

"I mustn't be seen, you know--'t wouldn't be right; and poor dearFlanagan not buried a week!"

"Sure, who'll see you? We'll go in the covered car, and draw thecurtains close, and who'll be the wiser?"

"If I thought no one would see me!" said the widow. 

"Ah, who'll see you?" exclaimed Biddy. "Come along--the drive will doyou good. "

The widow agreed; but when Biddy asked for a horse to put to the car, her brother refused, for the only horse not at work he was going toyoke in a cart that moment, to send a lamb to the town. Biddy vowed shewould have a horse, and her brother swore the lamb should be servedfirst, till Biddy made a compromise, and agreed to take the lamb underthe seat of the car, and so please all parties. 

Matters being thus accommodated, off the ladies set, the lamb tied neckand heels and crammed under the seat, and the curtains of the car readyto be drawn at a moment's notice, in case they should meet any one onthe road; for "why should not the poor widow enjoy the fresh air asthey drove along?" About half way to the town, however, the widowsuddenly exclaimed--

"Biddy, draw the curtains!"

"What's the matter?" says Biddy. 

"I see him coming after us round a turn o' the road!" and the widowlooked so horrified, and plucked at the curtains so furiously, thatBiddy, who was superstitious, thought nothing but Flanagan's ghostcould have produced such an effect; and began to scream and utter holyejaculations, until the sight of Tom Durfy riding after them showed herthe cause of her sister's alarm. 

"If that divil, Tom Durfy, sees me, he'll tell it all over the country, he's such a quiz; shove yourself well before the door there, Biddy, that he can't peep into the car. Oh, why did I come out this day!--Iwish your tongue was cut out, Biddy, that asked me!"

In the meantime Tom Durfy closed on them fast, and began telegraphingBiddy, who, according to the widow's desire, had shoved herself wellbefore the door. 

"Pull up, Tim, pull up!" said the widow, from the inside of the car, tothe driver, whom she thumped on the back at the same time to impressupon him her meaning; "turn about, and pretend to drive back. We'll letthat fellow ride on, " said she, quietly to Biddy. 

Just as this manoeuvre was executed, up came Tom Durfy. 

"How are you, Miss Riley?" said he, as he drew rein. 

"Pretty well, thank you, " said Biddy, putting her head and shouldersthrough the window, while the widow shrunk back into the corner of thecar. 

"How very sudden poor Mr. Flanagan's death was!--I was quitesurprised. "

"Yes, indeed, " says Biddy. "I was just taking a little drive; goodbye. "

"I was very much shocked to hear of it, " said Tom. 

"'T was dreadful!" said Biddy. 

"How is poor Mrs. Flanagan?" said Tom. 

"As well as can be expected, poor thing! Good bye!" said Biddy, manifestly anxious to cut short the conference. 

This anxiety was so obvious to Tom, who, for the sake of fun, lovedcross-purposes dearly, that he determined to push his conversationfurther, just because he saw it was unwelcome. 

"To be sure, " continued he, "at his time of life----"

"Very true, " said Biddy. "Good morning. "

"And the season has been very unhealthy. "

"Doctor Growling told me so yesterday, " said Biddy; "I wonder you'renot afraid of stopping in this east wind--colds are very prevalent. Good bye!"

Just now the Genius of Farce, who presides so particularly over allIrish affairs, put it into the lamb's head to bleat. The sound at firstdid not strike Tom Durfy as singular, they being near a high hedge, within which it was likely enough a lamb might bleat; but Biddy, shocked at the thought of being discovered in the fact of making herjaunting-cart a market-cart, reddened up to the eyes, while the widowsqueezed herself closer into the corner. 

Tom, seeing the increasing embarrassment of Biddy, and her desire to beoff, still _would_ talk to her, for the love of mischief. 

"I beg your pardon, " he continued, "just one moment more--I wanted toask, was it not apoplexy, for I heard an odd report about the death?"

"Oh, yes, " says Biddy; "apoplexy--good bye!"

"Did he speak at all?" asked Tom. 

"_Baa!_" says the lamb. 

Tom cocked his ears, Biddy grew redder, and the widow crammed herhandkerchief into her mouth to endeavour to smother her laughter. 

"I hope poor Mrs. Flanagan bears it well?" says Tom. 

"Poor thing!" says Biddy, "she's inconsolable. "

"_Baa-a!_" says the lamb. 

Biddy spoke louder and faster, the widow kicked with laughing, and Tomthen suspected whence the sound proceeded. 

"She does nothing but cry all day!" says Biddy. 

"_Baa-a-a!_" says the lamb. 

The widow could stand it no longer, and a peal of laughter followed thelamb's bleat. 

"What is all this?" said Tom, laying hold of the curtains withrelentless hand, and, spite of Biddy's screams, rudely unveiling thesanctuary of sorrowing widowhood. Oh! what a sight for the rising--I begtheir pardon, the sinking--generation of old gentlemen who take youngwives did Tom behold! There was the widow lying back in the corner--shewho was represented as inconsolable and crying all day--shaking withlaughter, the tears, not of sorrow, but irrepressible mirth rolling downa cheek rosy enough for a bride. 

Biddy, of course, joined the shout. Tom roared in an agony of delight. The very driver's risibility rebelled against the habits of respect, and strengthened the chorus; while the lamb, as if conscious of theauthorship of the joke, put in a longer and louder "_Baa--a-a-a!!!_"

Tom, with all his devilment, had good taste enough to feel it was not ascene to linger on; so merely giving a merry nod to each of the ladies, he turned about his horse as fast as he could, and rode away in roarsof laughter. 

When, in due course of time, the widow again appeared in company, sheand Tom Durfy could never meet without smiling at each other. What apleasant influence lies in mutual smiles! We love the lips whichwelcome us without words. Such sympathetic influence it was that ledthe widow and Tom to get better and better acquainted, and like eachother more and more, until she thought him the pleasantest fellow inthe county, and he thought her the handsomest woman:--besides, she hada good fortune. 

The widow, conscious of her charms and her money, did not let Tom, however, lead the quietest life in the world. She liked, with the usualpropensity of her sex, occasionally to vex the man she loved, andassert her sway over so good-looking a fellow. He, in his turn, playedoff the widow very well; and one unfailing source of mirthfulreconciliation on Tom's part, whenever the widow was angry, and that hewanted to bring her back to good humour, was to steal behind her chair, and coaxingly putting his head over her fair shoulder, to pat hergently on her peachy cheek, and cry "_Baa!_"

CHAPTER IX

Andy was in sad disgrace for some days with his mother; but, like allmothers, she soon forgave the blunders of her son--and indeed mothersare well off who have not more than blunders to forgive. Andy did allin his power to make himself useful at home, now that he was out ofplace and dependent on his mother, and got a day's work here and therewhere he could. Fortunately the season afforded him more employmentthan winter months would have done. But the farmers soon had all theircrops made up, and when Andy could find no work to be paid for, hebegan to cut the "scrap o' meadow, " as he called it, on a small fieldof his mother's. Indeed, it was but a "scrap;" for the place where itgrew was one of those broken bits of ground so common in the vicinityof mountain ranges, where rocks, protruding through the soil, give thenotion of a very fine crop of stones. Now, this locality gave to Andythe opportunity of exercising a bit of his characteristic ingenuity;for when the hay was ready for "cocking, " he selected a good thumpingrock as the foundation for his haystack, and the superstructureconsequently cut a more respectable figure than one could haveanticipated from the appearance of the little crop as it lay on theground; and as no vestige of the rock was visible, the widow, when shecame out to see the work completed, wondered and rejoiced at the sizeof the haystack, and said, "God bless you, Andy, but you're the natesthand for putting up a bit o' hay I ever seen; throth, I didn't thinkthere was the half of it in it!" Little did the widow know that thecock of hay was as great a cheat as a bottle of champagne--more thanhalf bottom. It was all very well for the widow to admire her hay; butat last she came to sell it, and such sales are generally effected inIreland by the purchaser buying "in the lump, " as it is called, thatis, calculating the value of the hay from the appearance of the stackas it stands, and drawing it away upon his own cars. Now, as luck wouldhave it, it was Andy's early acquaintance, Owny na Coppal, bought thehay; and in consideration of the _lone woman_, gave her as good aprice as he could afford--for Owny was an honest, open-hearted fellow, though he was a horse-dealer; so he paid the widow the price of her hayon the spot, and said he would draw it away at his convenience. 

In a few days Owny's cars and men were sent for this purpose; but whenthey came to take the haystack to pieces, the solidity of its centrerather astonished them--and instead of the cars going back loaded, twohad their journey for nothing, and went home empty. Previously to hismen leaving the widow's field, they spoke to her on the subject, andsaid, "'Pon my conscience, ma'am, the centre o' your haystack wasmighty heavy. "

"Oh, indeed, it's powerful hay!" said she. 

"Maybe so, " said they; "but there's not much nourishment in that partof it. "

"Not finer hay in Ireland!" said she. 

"What's of it, ma'am, " said they. "Faix, we think Mr. Doyle will betalkin' to you about it. " And they were quite right; for Owny becameindignant at being overreached, as he thought, and lost no time ingoing to the widow to tell her so. When he arrived at her cabin, Andyhappened to be in the house; and when the widow raised her voicethrough the storm of Owny's rage, in protestations that she knewnothing about it, but that "Andy, the darlin', put the cock up with hisown hands, " then did Owny's passion gather strength. 

"Oh! it's you, you vagabone, is it?" said he, shaking his whip at Andy, with whom he never had had the honour of a conversation since thememorable day when his horse was nearly killed. "So this is more o'your purty work! Bad cess to you! wasn't it enough for you to nigh-handkill one o' my horses, without plottin' to chate the rest o' them?"

"Is it _me_ chate them?" said Andy. "Throth, I wouldn't wrong adumb baste for the world. "

"Not he, indeed, Misther Doyle!" said the widow. 

"Arrah, woman, don't be talkin' your balderdash to me, " said Doyle;"sure you took my good money for your hay!"

"And sure I gave all I had to you--what more could I do?"

"Tare an' ounty, woman! who ever heerd of sich a thing as coverin' up arock wid hay, and sellin' it as the rale thing?"

"'T was Andy done it, Mr. Doyle; hand, act, or part, I hadn't in it. "

"Why, then, aren't you ashamed o' yourself?" said Owny Doyle, addressing Andy. 

"Why would I be ashamed?" said Andy. 

"For chatin'--that's the word, since you provoke me. "

"What I done is not chatin', " said Andy. "I had a blessed example forit. "

"Oh! do you hear this!" shouted Owny, nearly provoked to take the worthof his money out of Andy's ribs. 

"Yes, I say a blessed example, " said Andy. "Sure, didn't the blessedSaint Peter build his church upon a rock, and why shouldn't I build mycock o' hay on a rock?"

Owny, with all his rage, could not help laughing at the ridiculousconceit. "By this and that, Andy, " said he, "you're always sayin' ordoin' the quarest things in the counthry, bad cess to you!" So he laidhis whip upon his little hack instead of Andy, and galloped off. 

Andy went over the next day to the neighbouring town, where Owny Doylekept a little inn and a couple of post-chaises (such as they were), andexpressed much sorrow that Owny had been deceived by the appearance ofthe hay; "but I'll pay you the differ out o' my wages, MistherDoyle--in throth I will--that is, whenever I have any wages to get: forthe Squire turned me off, you see, and I'm out of place at thispresent. "

"Oh, never mind it, " said Owny. "Sure, it was the widow woman got themoney, and I don't begrudge it; and now that it's all past and gone, Iforgive you. But tell me, Andy, what put such a quare thing into yourhead?"

"Why, you see, " said Andy, "I didn't like the poor mother's prideshould be let down in the eyes o' the neighbours; and so I made theweeshy bit o' hay look as dacent as I could--but, at the same time, Iwouldn't chate any one for the world, Misther Doyle. "

"Throth, I b'lieve you wouldn't, Andy; but, 'pon my sowl, the next timeI go buy hay, I'll take care that Saint Pether hasn't any hand in it. "

Owny turned on his heel, and was walking away with that air of satisfactionwhich men so commonly assume after fancying they have said a goodthing, when Andy interrupted his retreat by an interjectional "MistherDoyle?"

"Well, " said Owny, looking over his shoulder. 

"I was thinkin', sir, " said Andy. 

"For the first time in your life, I b'lieve, " said Owny: "and what wasit you wor thinkin'?"

"I was thinkin' o' dhrivin' a chay, sir. "

"And what's that to me?" said Owny. 

"Sure I might dhrive one o' your chaises. "

"And kill more o' my horses, Andy--eh? No, no, faix, I'm afeer'd o'you, Andy. "

[Illustration: The Reward of Humanity]

"Not a boy in Ireland knows dhrivin' betther nor me, any way, " saidAndy. 

"Faix, it's any way and every way but the way you ought you'd dhrive, sure enough, I b'lieve: but, at all events, I don't want a post-boy, Andy--I have Micky Doolin, and his brother Pether, and them's enoughfor me. 

"Maybe you'd be wantin' a helper in the stable, Misther Doyle?"

"No, Andy; but the first time I want to make hay to advantage, I'llsend for you, " said Owny, laughing, as he entered his house, andnodding at Andy, who returned a capacious grin to Owny's shrewd smile, like the exaggerated reflection of a concave mirror. But the grin soonsubsided, for men seldom prolong the laugh that is raised at their ownexpense; and the corners of Andy's mouth turned down as his hand turnedup to the back of his head, which he rubbed, as he sauntered down thestreet from Owny Doyle's. 

It was some miles to Andy's home, and night over-took him on the way. As he trudged along in the middle of the road he was looking up at awaning moon and some few stars twinkling through the gloom, absorbed inmany sublime thoughts as to their existence, and wondering what theywere made of, when his cogitations were cut short by tumbling oversomething which lay in the middle of the highway; and on scrambling tohis legs again, and seeking to investigate the cause of his fall, hewas rather surprised to find a man lying in such a state of insensibilitythat all Andy's efforts could not rouse him. While he was standing overhim, undecided as to what he should do, the sound of approachingwheels, and the rapid steps of galloping horses, attracted hisattention; and it became evident that unless the chaise and pair whichhe now saw in advance were brought to pull up, the cares of the man inthe middle of the road would be very soon over. Andy shouted lustily, but to his every "Halloo there!" the crack of the whip replied, andaccelerated speed instead of a halt was the consequence; at last, indesperation, Andy planted himself in the middle of the road, and without-spread arms before the horses, succeeded in arresting theirprogress, while he shouted "Stop!" at the top of his voice. 

A pistol-shot from the chaise was the consequence of Andy's summons, for a certain Mr. Furlong, a foppish young gentleman, travelling fromthe castle of Dublin, never dreamed that a humane purpose could producethe cry of "Stop, " on a _horrid Irish_ road; and as he was rearedin the ridiculous belief that every man ran a great risk of his lifewho ventured outside the city of Dublin, he travelled with a brace ofloaded pistols beside him; and as he had been anticipating murder androbbery ever since nightfall, he did not await the demand for his"money or his life" to defend both, but fired away the instant he heardthe word "Stop!" and fortunate it was for Andy that the traveller'shurry impaired his aim. Before he could discharge a second pistol, Andyhad screened himself under the horses' heads; and recognising in thepostilion his friend Micky Doolin, he shouted out, "Micky, jewel, don'tlet them be shootin' me!"

Now Micky's cares were quite enough engaged on his own account: for thefirst pistol-shot made the horses plunge violently, and the second timeFurlong blazed away set the saddle-horse kicking at such a rate, thatall Micky's horsemanship was required to preserve his seat; added towhich, the dread of being shot came over him, and he crouched low onthe grey's neck, holding fast by the mane, and shouting for mercy aswell as Andy, who still kept roaring to Mick, "not to let them beshootin' him, " while he held his hat above him, in the fashion of ashield, as if that would have proved any protection against a bullet. "Who are you at all?" said Mick. 

"Andy Rooney, sure. "

"And what do you want?"

"To save the man's life. "

The last words only caught the ear of the frightened Furlong; and asthe phrase "his life" seemed a personal threat to himself, he swore atrembling oath at the postilion that he would shoot him if he did not_dwive_ on, for he abjured the use of that rough letter, R, whichthe Irish so much rejoice in. "Dwive on, you wascal, dwive on!"exclaimed Mr. Furlong. 

"There's no fear o' you, sir, " said Micky, "it's a friend o' my own. "

Mr. Furlong was not quite satisfied that he was therefore the safer. 

"And what is it at all, Andy?" continued Mick. 

"I tell you there's a man lying dead in the road here, and sure you'llkill him, if you dhrive over him. "

"How could I kill him any more than he _is_ kilt, " says Mick, "ifhe's dead already?"

"Well, no matther for that, " says Andy. "'Light off your horse, willyou, and help me to rise him?"

Mick dismounted, and assisted Andy in lifting the prostrate man fromthe centre of the road to the slope of turf which bordered its side. They judged he was not dead, however, from the warmth of the body; butthat he should still sleep seemed astonishing, considering the quantityof shaking and kicking they gave him. 

"I b'lieve it's drunk he is, " said Mick. 

"He gave a grunt that time, " said Andy; "shake him again, and he'llspake. "

To a fresh shaking the drunken man at last gave some tokens of returningconsciousness, by making several winding blows at his benefactors, anduttering some half-intelligent maledictions. 

"Bad luck to you, do you know where you are?" said Mick. 

"Well!" was the drunken ejaculation. 

"By this and that, it's my brother Pether, " said Mick. "We wondheredwhat had kept him so late with the return shay, and this is the way itis. He tumbled off his horses, dhrunk: and where's the shay, I wondher?Oh, murdher! what will Misther Doyle say?"

"What's the weason you don't dwive on?" said Mr. Furlong, putting hishead out of the chaise. 

"It's one on the road here, your honour, almost killed. "

"Was it wobbers?" asked Mr. Furlong. 

"Maybe you'd take him into the shay wid you, sir?"

"What a wequest!--dwive on, sir!"

"Sure I can't lave my brother on the road, sir. "

"_Your_ bwother!--and you pwesume to put your bwother to wide with me?You'll put me in the debdest wage if you don't dwive on. "

"'Faith, then, I won't dhrive on and lave my brother here on the road. "

"You rascally wappawee!" exclaimed Furlong. 

"See, Andy, " said Micky Doolan; "will you get up and dhrive him, whileI stay with Pether?"

"To be sure I will, " said Andy; "where is he goin'?"

"To the Squire's, " said Mick; "and when you lave him there, make hasteback, and I'll dhrive Pether home. "

Andy mounted into Mick's saddle; and although the traveller "pwotested"against it, and threatened "pwoceedings" and "magistrates, " Mick wasunmoved in his brotherly love. As a last remonstrance, Furlongexclaimed, "And pewhaps this fellow can't wide, and don't know thewoad. "

"Is it not know the road to the Squire's?--wow! wow!" said Andy. "It'sI that'll rattle you there in no time, your honour. "

"Well, wattle away then!" said the enraged traveller, as he threwhimself back in the chaise, cursing all the postilions in Ireland. 

Now, it was to Squire O'Grady's that Mr. Furlong wanted to go; but inthe confusion of the moment the name of O'Grady never once wasmentioned; and with the title of "Squire, " Andy never associatedanother idea than that of his late master, Mr. Egan. 

Mr. Furlong, it has been stated, was an official of Dublin Castle, andhad been despatched on electioneering business to the country. He wasrelated to a gentleman of the same name who held a lucrative post undergovernment, and was well known as an active agent in all affairsrequiring what in Ireland was called "Castle influence;" and this, his relative, was now despatched, for the first time, on a similaremployment. By the way, while his name is before one, a little anecdotemay be appropriately introduced, illustrative of the wild waggeryprevailing in the streets of Dublin in those days. 

Those days were the good old days of true virtue! When a bishop who haddaughters to marry, would advance a deserving young curate to a goodliving, and, not content with _that_ manifestation of his regard, would give him _one of his own children_ for a wife! Those werethe days when, the country being in danger, fathers were willing tosacrifice, not only their sons, but their daughters on the altar ofpatriotism! Do you doubt it?--unbelieving and selfish creatures ofthese degenerate times! Listen! A certain father waited upon the IrishSecretary, one fine morning, and in that peculiar strain whichsecretaries of state must be pretty well used to, descanted at somelength on the devotion he had always shown to the government, and yetthey had given him no _proof of their confidence_. The Secretarydeclared they had the highest sense of his merits, and that they hadgiven him their entire confidence. 

"But you have given me nothing else, my lord, " was the answer. 

"My dear sir, of late we have not had any proof of sufficient weight inour gift to convince you. "

"Oh, I beg your pardon, my lord; there's a majority of the ---- dragoonsvacant. "

"Very true, my dear sir; and if you _had_ a child to devote to theservice of your country, no one should have the majority sooner. "

"Thank you, my lord, " said the worthy man with a low bow; "then I_have_ a child. "

"Bless me, sir! I never heard you had a son. "

"No, my lord, but I have a daughter. "

"A daughter!" said my Lord Secretary, with a look of surprise; "but youforget, sir--this is a regiment--a _dragoon_ regiment. "

"Oh, she rides elegant, " said her father. 

"But, my dear sir--a woman?"

"Why shouldn't a woman do her duty, my lord, as well as a man, when thecountry is in danger? I'm ready to sacrifice my daughter, " said theheroic man, with an air worthy of Virginius. 

"My dear sir, this is really impossible; you _know_ it'simpossible. "

"I know no such thing, my lord. But I'll tell you what I know: there'sa bill coming on next week--and there are _ten friends of mine_who have not made up their minds yet. "

"My dear sir, " said the Lord Secretary, squeezing his hand withvehement friendship, "why place us in this dreadful difficulty? Itwould be impossible even to draw up the commission;--fancy, 'Major_Maria_, ' or 'Major _Margery_'!"

"Oh, my lord, " said my father quickly, "I have fancied all that longago, and got a cure ready for it. My wife not having been blessed withboys, we thought it wise to make the girls ready for any chance thatmight turn up, and so we christened the eldest George, the second Jack, and the third Tom; which enables us to call them Georgina, Jacqueline, and Thomasine, in company, while the secret of their real names restsbetween ourselves and the parish register. Now, my lord, what do yousay? I have George, Jack, and Tom--think of your _bill_!" The argumentwas conclusive, and the patriotic man got the majority of a cavalrycorps, with perpetual leave of absence, for his daughter Jack, whowould much rather have joined the regiment. 

Such were the days in which our Furlong flourished; and in such days itwill not be wondered at that a Secretary, when he had no place to giveaway, invented one. The old saying has it, that "Necessity is themother of invention;" but an Irish Secretary can beat necessity hollow. For example--

A commission was issued, with a handsome salary to the commissioner, tomake a measurement through all the streets of Dublin, ascertaining theexact distances from the Castle, from a furlong upwards: and for many ayear did the commission work, inserting handsome stone slabs into wallsof most ignorant houses, till then unconscious of their preciseproximity or remoteness from the seat of government. Ever after that, if you saw some portly building, blushing in the pride of red brick, and perfumed with fresh paint, and saw the tablet recording theinteresting fact thus--

 +------------------+ | FROM THE CASTLE, | | ONE FURLONG. | +------------------+

Fancy might suggest that the house rejoiced, as it were, in its honouredposition, and did

 --"look so fine, and smell so sweet, "

because it was under the nose of viceroyalty, while the suburbsrevealed poor tatterdemalion tenements, dropping their slates liketears, and uttering their hollow sighs through empty casements, merelybecause they were "one mile two furlongs from the Castle. " But the newstone tablet which told you so seemed to mock their misery, and lookedlike a fresh stab into their poor old sides; as if the rapier of a kinghad killed a beggar. 

This very original measure of measurement was provocative of ridiculeor indignation, as the impatient might happen to be infected; but whilethe affair was in full blow, Mr. Furlong, who was the commissioner, while walking in Sackville-street, one day, had a goodly sheet of paperpinned to his back by some--

 --"sweet Roman hand, "

bearing, in large letters, the inversion of one of his own tablets, +------------------+ | ONE FURLONG | | FROM THE CASTLE. | +------------------+

and as he swaggered along in conscious dignity, he wondered at theshouts of laughter ringing behind him, and turned round occasionally tosee the cause; but ever as he turned, faces were screwed up intoseriousness, while the laughter rang again in his rear. Furlong wasbewildered, and much as he was used to the mirthfulness of an Irishpopulace, he certainly _did_ wonder what fiend of fun possessed themthat day, until the hall porter of the secretary's office solved theenigma by respectfully asking would he not take the placard from hisback before he presented himself. The Mister Furlong who is engaged inour story was the nephew of the man of measurement memory; and hismother, a vulgar woman, sent her son to England to be educated, that hemight "pick up the ax'nt; 't was so jinteel, the Inglish ax'nt!" And, accordingly, the youth endeavoured all he could to become _un_-Irish ineverything, and was taught to believe that all the virtue and wisdom inIreland was vested in the Castle and hangers-on thereof, and that themere people were worse than savages. 

With such feelings it was that this English Irishman, employed to opennegotiations between the government and Squire O'Grady, visited thewilds of Ireland; and the circumstances attendant on the stopping ofthe chaise afforded the peculiar genius of Handy Andy an opportunity ofmaking a glorious confusion, by driving the political enemy of thesitting member into his house, where, by a curious coincidence, astrange gentleman was expected every day on a short visit. After Andyhad driven some time, he turned round and spoke to Mr. Furlong, throughthe pane of glass with which the front window-frame of the chaise was_not_ furnished. 

"Faix, you wor nigh shootin' me, your honour, " said Andy. 

"I should not wepwoach myself, if I had, " said Mr. Furlong, "when youquied stop on the woad: wobbers always qui stop, and I took you for awobber. "

"Faix, the robbers here, your honour, never axes you to stop at all, but they stop you without axin', or by your lave, or wid your lave. Sure, I was only afeerd you'd dhrive over the man in the road. "

"What was that man in the woad doing?"

"Nothin' at all, 'faith, for he wasn't able; he was dhrunk, sir. "

"The postilion said he was his bwother. "

"Yis, your honour, and he's a postilion himself--only he lost hishorses and the shay--he got dhrunk, and fell off. "

"Those wascally postilions often get dwunk, I suppose?"

"Oh, common enough, sir, particular now about the 'lection time; forthe gentlemin is dhrivin' over the country like mad, right and left, and gives the boys money to dhrink their health, till they are killeda'most with the falls they get. "

"Then postilions often fall on the woads here?"

"Throth, the roads is covered with them sometimes, when the 'lectionscomes an. "

"What howwid immowality! I hope you're not dwunk?"

"Faix, I wish I was!" said Andy. "It's a great while since I had adhrop; but it won't be long so, when your honour gives me something todhrink your health. "

"Well, don't talk, but dwive on. "

All Andy's further endeavours to get "his honour" into conversationwere unavailing; so he whipped on in silence till his arrival at thegate-house of Merryvale demanded his call for entrance. 

"What are you shouting there for?" said the traveller; "cawn't youwing?"

"Oh, they understand the _shilloo_ as well, sir;" and in confirmationof Andy's assurance, the bars of the entrance gates were withdrawn, andthe post-chaise rattled up the avenue to the house. 

Andy alighted, and gave a thundering tantara-ra at the door. Theservant who opened it was surprised at the sight of Andy, and could notrepress a shout of wonder. Here Dick Dawson came into the hall, andseeing Andy at the door, gave a loud halloo, and clapped his hands indelight--for he had not seen him since the day of the chase. 

"An' is it there you are again, you unlucky vagabone?" said Dick; "andwhat brings you here?"

"I come with a jintleman to the masther, Misther Dick. "

"Oh, it's the visitor, I suppose, " said Dick, as he himself went out, with that unceremonious readiness so characteristic of the wild fellowhe was, to open the door of the chaise for his brother-in-law's guest. 

"You're welcome, " said Dick; "come, step in--the servants will look toyour luggage. James, get in Mr. ----, I beg your pardon, but 'pon mysoul, I forgot your name, though Moriarty told me. "

"Mr. Furlong, " gently uttered the youth. 

"Get in the luggage, James. Come, sir, walk into the dinner-room: wehaven't finished our wine yet. " With these words Dick ushered inFurlong to the apartment where Squire Egan sat, who rose as theyentered. "Mr. Furlong, Ned, " said Dick. 

"Happy to see you, Mr. Furlong, " said the hearty Squire, who shookFurlong's hand in what Furlong considered a most savage manner. "Youseem fatigued?"

"Vewy, " was the languid reply of the traveller, as he threw himselfinto a chair. 

"Ring the bell for more claret, Dick, " said Squire Egan. 

"I neveh dwink. "

Dick and the Squire both looked at him with amazement, for in thefriend of Moriarty they expected to find a hearty fellow. 

"A cool bottle wouldn't do a child any harm, " said the Squire. "Ring, Dick. And now, Mr. Furlong, tell us how you like the country. "

"Not much, I pwotest. "

"What do you think of the people?"

"Oh, I don't know:--you'll pawdon me, but--a--in short there are somany wags. "

"Oh, there are wags enough, I grant; not funnier d----ls in the world. "

"But I mean _wags_--tatters, I mean. "

"Oh, rags. Oh, yes--why, indeed, they've not much clothes to spare. "

"And yet these wetches are fweeholders, I'm told. "

"Ay, and stout voters too. "

"Well, that's all we wequire. By-the-bye, how goes on the canvass, Squire?"

"Famously. "

"Oh, wait till I explain to you our plan of opewations from head-qwaters. You'll see how famously we shall wally at the hustings. These _Iwish_have no idea of tactics: we'll intwoduce the English mode--take them bysupwise. We _must_ unseat him. "

"Unseat who?" said the Squire. 

"That--a--Egan, I think you call him. "

The Squire opened his eyes; but Dick, with the ready devilment that wasalways about him, saw how the land lay in an instant, and making asignal to his brother-in-law, chimed in with an immediate assent toFurlong's assertion, and swore that Egan would be unseated to acertainty. "Come, sir, " added Dick, "fill one bumper at least to atoast I propose. Here's 'Confusion to Egan, and success to O'Grady. '"

"Success to O'Gwady, " faintly echoed Furlong, as he sipped his claret. "These _Iwish_ are so wild--so uncultivated, " continued he; "you'll seehow I'll supwise them with some of my plans. "

"Oh, they're poor ignorant brutes, " said Dick, "that know nothing: aman of the world like you would buy and sell them. "

"You see, they've no finesse: they have a certain degwee of weadiness, but no depth--no weal finesse. "

"Not as much as would physic a snipe, " said Dick, who swallowed a glassof claret to conceal a smile. 

"What's that you say about snipes and physic?" said Furlong; "whatqueer things you _Iwish_ do say. "

"Oh, we've plenty o' queer fellows here, " said Dick; "but you are nottaking your claret. "

"The twuth is, I am fatigued--vewy--and if you'd allow me, Mr. O'Gwady, I should like to go to my woom; we'll talk over business to-mowwow. "

"Certainly, " said the Squire, who was glad to get rid of him, for thescene was becoming too much for his gravity. So Dick Dawson lightedFurlong to his room, and after heaping civilities upon him, left him tosleep in the camp of his enemies, and then returned to the dining-room, to enjoy with the Squire the laugh they were so long obliged to repress, and to drink another bottle of claret on the strength of the joke. 

"What shall we do with him, Dick?" said the Squire. 

"Pump him as dry as a lime-kiln, " said Dick, "and then send him off toO'Grady--all's fair in war. "

"To be sure, " said the Squire. "Unseat me, indeed! he was near it, sureenough, for I thought I'd have dropped off my chair with surprise whenhe said it. "

"And the conceit and impudence of the fellow, " said Dick. "The ignorant_Iwish_--nothing will serve him but abusing his own countrymen! 'Theignorant Irish!'--oh, is that all you learn in Oxford, my boy?--just wait, my buck--if I don't astonish your weak mind, it's no matter!"

"'Faith, he has brought his pigs to a pretty market here, " said theSquire; "but how _did_ he come here? how was the mistake made?"

"The way every mistake in the country is made, " said Dick. "Handy Andydrove him here. "

"More power to you, Andy, " said the Squire. "Come, Dick, we'll drinkAndy's health--this is a mistake on the right side. "

And Andy's health _was_ drunk, as well as several other healths. Inshort, the Squire and Dick the Devil were in high glee--the dining-roomrang with laughter to a late hour; and the next morning a great manyempty claret bottles were on the table--and a few on the floor. 

CHAPTER X

Notwithstanding the deep potations of the Squire and Dick Dawson thenight before, both were too much excited by the arrival of Furlong topermit their being laggards in the morning; they were up and inconsultation at an early hour, for the purpose of carrying onprosperously the mystification so well begun on the Castle-agent. 

"Now, first of all, Dick, " said the Squire, "is it fair, do you think?"

"Fair!" said Dick, opening his eyes in astonishment. "Why who everheard of any one questioning anything being fair in love, or war, orelectioneering? To be sure, it's fair--and more particularly when theconceited coxcomb has been telling us how he'll astonish with his plansthe poor ignorant Irish, whom he holds in such contempt. Now, let mealone, and I'll get all his plans out of him, turn him inside out likea glove, pump him as dry as a pond in the summer, squeeze him like alemon--and let him see whether the poor ignorant _Iwish_, as he softlycalls us, are not an overmatch for him at the finesse upon which heseems so much to pride himself. "

"Egad! I believe you're right, Dick, " said the Squire, whose qualmswere quite overcome by the argument last advanced; for if one thingmore than another provoked him, it was the impertinent self-conceit ofpresuming and shallow strangers, who fancied their hackneyed andcut-and-dry knowledge of the common-places of the world gave them amental elevation above an intelligent people of primitive habits, whosesimplicity of life is so often set down to stupidity, whose contentmentunder privation is frequently attributed to laziness, and whose povertyis constantly coupled with the epithet "ignorant. " "A poor ignorantcreature, " indeed, is a common term of reproach, as if poverty andignorance must be inseparable. If a list could be obtained of the_rich_ ignorant people, it would be no flattering document to stick onthe door of the temple of Mammon. 

"Well, Ned, " said Dick, "as you agree to _do_ the Englishman, Murphywill be a grand help to us; it is the very thing he will have his heartin. Murtough will be worth his weight in gold to us; I will ride overto him and bring him back with me to spend the day here; and you, inthe mean time, can put every one about the house on their guard not tospoil the fun by letting the cat out of the bag too soon; we'll _shakeher_ ourselves in good time, and maybe we won't have fun in the hunt!"

"You're right, Dick. Murphy is the very man for our money. Do you beoff for him, and I will take care that all shall be right at homehere. "

In ten minutes more Dick was in his saddle, and riding hard forMurtough Murphy's. A good horse and a sharp pair of spurs were not longin placing him _vis-à-vis_ with the merry attorney, whom he found inhis stable-yard up to his eyes in business with some ragged countryfellows, the majority of whom were loud in vociferating their praisesof certain dogs; while Murtough drew from one of them, from time totime, a solemn assurance, given with many significant shakes of thehead, and uplifting of hands and eyes, "that was the finest badger inthe world!" Murtough turned his head on hearing the rattle of thehorse's feet, as Dick the Devil dashed into the stable-yard, and with aview-halloo welcomed him. 

"You're just in time, Dick. By the powers! we'll have the finest day'ssport you've seen for some time. "

"I think we shall, " said Dick, "if you come with me. "

"No; but you come with me, " said Murtough. "The grandest badger-fight, sir. "

"Pooh!" returned Dick; "I've better fun for you. " He then told them ofthe accident that conveyed their political enemy into their toils; "andthe beauty of it is, " said Dick, "that he has not the remotest suspicionof the condition he's in, and fancies himself able to buy and sell allIreland--horse-dealers and attorneys included. "

"That's elegant!" said Murphy. 

"He's come to enlighten us, Murtough, " said Dick. 

"And maybe, we won't return the compliment, " said Murtough. "Just let meput on my boots. Hilloa, you Larry! saddle the grey. Don't you cut thepup's ears till I come home! and if Mr. Ferguson sends over for thedraft of the lease, tell him it won't be ready till to-morrow. Molly!Molly! where are you, you old divil? Sew on that button for me--I forgotto tell you yesterday--make haste! I won't delay you a moment, Dick. Stop a minute, though. I say, Lanty Houligan--mind, on your peril, youold vagabone, don't let them fight that badger without me. Now, Dick, I'll be with you in the twinkling of a bedpost, and _do_ the Englishman, and that smart! Bad luck to their conceit! they think we can do nothingregular in Ireland. "

On his arrival at Merryvale and hearing how matters stood, MurtoughMurphy was in a perfect agony of delight in anticipating themystification of the kidnapped agent. Dick's intention had been to takehim along with them on their canvass, and openly engage him in all theirelectioneering movements; but to this Murphy objected, as running toogreat a risk of discovery. He recommended rather to engage Furlong inamusements which would detain him from O'Grady and his party, and gaintime for their side; and get out of him all the electioneering plot ofthe other party, _indirectly_; but to have as little _real_ electioneeringbusiness as possible. "If you do, Dick, " said Murphy, "take my word, weshall betray ourselves somehow or other--he could not be so soft as notto see it; but let us be content to amuse him with all sorts of absurdstories of Ireland--and the Irish--tell him magnificent lies--astonishhim with grand materials for a note-book, and work him up topublish--that's the plan, sir!"

The three conspirators now joined the family party, which had just satdown to breakfast; Dick, in his own jolly way, hoped Furlong had sleptwell. 

"Vewy, " said Furlong, as he sipped his tea with an air of peculiar_nonchalance_ which was meant to fascinate Fanny Dawson, who, whenFurlong addressed to her his first silly common-place, with his peculiar_non_-pronunciation of the letter R, established a lisp directly, and itwas as much as her sister, Mrs. Egan, could do to keep her countenance, as Fanny went on slaughtering the S's as fast as Furlong ruined R's. 

"I'll twouble you for a little mo' queam, " said he, holding forth hiscup and saucer with an affected air. 

"Perhapth you'd like thum more theugar, " lisped Fanny, lifting thesugar-tongs with an exquisite curl of her little finger. 

"I'm glad to hear you slept well, " said Dick to Furlong. 

"To be sure he slept well, " said Murphy; "this is the sleepiest air inthe world. "

"The sleepiest air?" returned Furlong, somewhat surprised. "That's vewyodd. "

"Not at all, sir, " said Murphy; "well known fact. When I first cameto this part of the country, I used to sleep for two days togethersometimes. Whenever I wanted to rise early, I was always obliged to getup the night before. "

This was said by the brazen attorney, from his seat at a side-table, which was amply provided with a large dish of boiled potatoes, capaciousjugs of milk, a quantity of cold meat and game. Murphy had his mouthhalf filled with potatoes as he spoke, and swallowed a large draught ofmilk as the stranger swallowed Murphy's lie. 

"You don't eat potatoes, I perceive, sir, " said Murphy. 

"Not for bweakfast, " said Furlong. 

"Do you for thupper?" lisped Fanny. 

"Never in England, " he replied. 

"Finest things in the world, sir, for the intellect, " said Murphy. "Iattribute the natural intelligence of the Irish entirely to their eatingthem. "

"Oh, they are thometimes tho thleepy at the Cathtle, " said Fanny. 

"Weally!" said the exquisite, with the utmost simplicity. 

"Fanny is very provoking, Mr. Furlong, " said Mrs. Egan, who was obligedto say something with a smile, to avoid the laugh which continuedsilence would have forced upon her. 

"Oh, no!" said the dandy, looking tenderly at Fanny; "only vewyagweable--fond of a little wepa'tee. "

"They call me thatirical here, " said Fanny, "only fanthy!" and she castdown her eyes with an exquisite affectation of innocence. 

"By-the-bye, when does your post awive here--the mail I mean?" saidFurlong. 

"About nine in the morning, " said the Squire. 

"And when does it go out?"

"About one in the afternoon. "

"And how far is the post town fwom your house?"

"About eight or nine miles. "

"Then you can answer your letters by wetu'n of post?"

"Oh dear, no!" said the Squire; "the boy takes any letters that may befor the post the following morning, as he goes to the town to look forletters. "

"But you lose a post by that, " said Furlong. 

"And what matter?" said the Squire. 

The official's notions of regularity were somewhat startled by theSquire's answer; so he pushed him with a few more questions. In replyto one of the last, the Squire represented that the post-boy was savedgoing twice a day by the present arrangement. 

"Ay, but you lose a post, my dear sir, " said Furlong, who still clungwith pertinacity to the fitness of saving a post. "Don't you see thatyou might weceive your letter at half-past ten; well, then you'll havea full hour to wite you' answer; that's quite enough time, I shouldthink, for you wetu'ning an answer. "

"But, my dear sir, " said Murtough Murphy, "our grand object in Irelandis _not_ to answer letters. "

"Oh!--ah!--hum!--indeed!--well, that's odd; how _vewy_ odd youIwish are!"

"Sure, that's what makes us such pleasant fellows, " said Murtough. "Ifwe were like the rest of the world, there would be nothing remarkableabout us; and who'd care for us?"

"Well, Mr. Muffy, you say such queer things--weally. "

"Ay, and I _do_ queer things sometimes--don't I, Squire?"

"There's no denying it, Murphy. "

"Now, Mr. O'Gwady, " said Furlong, "had we not better talk over ourelection business?"

"Oh, hang business to-day!" said Murphy: "let's have some fishing: I'llshow you such salmon-fishing as you never saw in your life. "

"What do _you_ say, Mr. O'Gwady?" said Furlong. 

"'Faith, I think we might as well amuse ourselves. "

"But the election is weally of such consequence; I should think it wouldbe a wema'kably close contest, and we have no time to lose; I shouldthink--with submission----"

"My dear sir, " said Murphy, "we'll beat them hollow: our canvass hasbeen most prosperous; there's only one thing I'm afraid of. "

"What's that?" said Furlong. 

"That Egan has money; and I'm afraid he'll bribe high. "

"As for bwibewy, neve' mind that, " said Furlong, with a very wise nod ofhis head and a sagacious wink. "_We'll spend money too. _ We're pwepawedfor that: plenty of money will be advanced, for the gov'nment is weallyanxious that Mr. Scatte'bwain should come in. "

"Oh, then, all's right?" said Murphy. "But--whisper--Mr. Furlong--becautious how you mention _money_, for there are sharp fellows abouthere, and there's no knowing how the wind of the word might put theother party on their guard, and, maybe, help to unseat our man upon apetition. "

"Oh, let me alone, " said Furlong. "I know a twick too many for that: letthem catch me betwaying a secwet! No, no--_wather_ too sharp for that!"

"Oh! don't suppose, my dear sir, " said Murphy, "that I doubt yourcaution for a moment. I see, sir, in the twinkling of an eye, a man'scharacter--always did--always could, since I was the height o' that;"and Murphy stooped down and extended his hand about two feet above thefloor, while he looked up in the face of the man he was humbugging withthe most unblushing impudence--"since I was the height o' that, sir, Ihad a natural quickness for discerning character; and I see you're ayoung gentleman of superior acuteness and discretion; but, at the sametime, don't be angry with me for just hinting to you, that some of theseIrish chaps are d----d rogues. I beg your pardon, Mrs. O'Grady, forsaying d----n before a lady;" and he made a low bow to Mrs. Egan, whowas obliged to leave the room to hide her laughter. 

"Now, " said Furlong, "suppose befo'e the opening of the poll, we shouldpwopose, as it were, with a view to save time, that the bwibery oathshould not be administe'd on either side. "

"That's an elegant idea!" said Murphy. "By the wig o' the chiefjustice--and that's a big oath--you're a janius, Misther Furlong, and Iadmire you. Sir, you're worth your weight in gold to us!"

"Oh, you flatte' me!--weally, " said Furlong, with affected modesty, while he ran his fingers through his Macassar-oiled ringlets. 

"Well, now for a start to the river, and won't we have sport! YouEnglish-taught gentlemen have only one fault on the face of theearth--you're too fond of business--you make yourselves slaves topropriety--there's no fun in you. "

"I beg pawdon--there, " said Furlong, "we like fun in good time. "

"Ay; but there's where we beat you, " said Murphy, triumphantly; "thegenuine home-bred Paddy makes time for fun sooner than anything else--wetake our own way, and live the longer. "

"Ah! you lose your time--though--excuse me; you lose your time, indeed. "

"Well, 'divil may care, ' as Punch said when he lost mass, 'there's morechurches nor one, ' says he, and that's the way with us, " said Murphy. "Come, Dick, get the fishing-lines ready; heigh for the salmon-fishery!You must know, Misther Furlong, we fish for salmon with line here. "

"I don't see how you could fish any other way, " said the dandy, smilingat Murphy, as if he had caught him in saying something absurd. 

"Ah, you rogue, " said Murphy, affecting to be hit; "you're too sharpfor us poor Irish fellows; but you know the old saying, 'An Irishmanhas leave to speak twice;' but, after all, it's no great mistake I'vemade: for when I say we fish for salmon with a line, I mean we don'tuse a rod, but a leaded line, the same as in sea-fishing. "

"How vewy extwao'dinary! Why, I should think that impossible. "

"And why should it be impossible?" said Murphy, with the most unabashedimpudence. "Have not all nations habits and customs peculiar tothemselves? Don't the English catch their fish by striking them underwater with a long rough stick, and a little cur-whibble of a bone atthe end of it?"

"Speawing them, you mean, " said Furlong. 

"Ay, you know the right name, of course; but isn't that quite as odd, or more so than our way here?"

"That's vewy twue indeed; but your sea-line fishing in a wiver, and forsalmon, strikes me as vewy singular. "

"Well, sir, the older we grow the more we learn. You'll see what finesport it is; but don't lose any more time: let us be off to the riverat once. "

"I'll make a slight change in my dwess, if you please--I'll be downimmediately;" and Furlong left the room. 

During his absence, the Squire, Dick, and Murphy, enjoyed a heartylaugh, and ran over the future proceedings of the day. 

"But what do you mean by this salmon-fishing, Murphy?" said Dick; "youknow there never was a salmon in the river. "

"But there will be to-day, " said Murphy; "and a magnificent gudgeonwill see him caught. What a spoon that fellow is!--we've got thebribery out of him already. "

"You did that well, Murphy, " said the Squire. 

"Be at him again when he comes down, " said Dick. 

"No, no, " said Murphy, "let him alone; he is so conceited about histalent for business, that he will be talking of it without our pushinghim: just give him rope enough, and he'd hang himself; _we'll have thewhole of their campaign out before the day is over_. "

CHAPTER XI

All men love to gain their ends; most men are contented with theshortest road to them, while others like by-paths. Some carry an innatelove of triumph to a pitch of epicurism, and are not content unless thetriumph be achieved in a certain way, making collateral passionsaccessories before or after the fact; and Murphy was one of the number. To him, a triumph without _fun_ was beef without mustard, lamb withoutsalad, turbot without lobster sauce. Now, to entangle Furlong in theirmeshes was not sufficient for him; to detain him from his friends, everymoment betraying something of their electioneering movements, thoughsufficiently ludicrous in itself, was not enough for Murtough!--he wouldmake his captive a source of ridicule as well as profit, and whileplenty of real amusements might have served his end, to divert thestranger for the day, this mock fishing-party was planned to brightenwith fresh beams the halo of the ridiculous which already encircled themagnanimous Furlong. 

"I'm still in the dark, " said Dick, "about the salmon. As I said before, there never was a salmon in the river. "

"But, as I said before, " replied Murphy, "there will be to-day; and youmust help me in playing off the trick. "

"But what _is_ this trick? Confound you, you're as mysterious as achancery suit. "

"I wish I was likely to last half as long, " said Murphy. 

"The trick!" said Dick. "Bad luck to you, tell me the trick, and don'tkeep me waiting, like a poor relation. "

"You have two boats on the river?" said Murphy. 

"Yes. "

"Well, you must get into one with our victim: and I can get into theother with the salmon. "

"But where's the salmon, Murphy?"

"In the house, for I sent one over this morning, a present to Mrs. Egan. You must keep away about thirty yards or so, when we get afloat, thatour dear friend may not perceive the trick--and in proper time I willhook my dead salmon on one of my lines, drop him over the off-side ofthe boat, pass him round to the gun-wale within view of our intelligentcastle customer, make a great outcry, swear I have a noble bite, haul upmy fish with an enormous splash, and, affecting to kill him in the boat, hold up my salmon in triumph. "

"It's a capital notion, Murphy, if he doesn't smoke the trick. "

"He'll smoke the salmon sooner. Never mind, if I don't hoax him: I'llbet you what you like he's done. "

"I hear him coming down-stairs, " said the Squire. 

"Then send off the salmon in a basket by one of the boys, Dick, " saidMurphy; "and you, Squire, may go about your canvass, and leave us incare of the enemy. "

All was done as Murphy proposed, and, in something less than an hour, Furlong and Dick in one boat, and Murphy and his attendant _gossoon_ inanother, were afloat on the river, to initiate the Dublin citizen intothe mysteries of this new mode of salmon-fishing. 

The sport at first was slack, and no wonder; and Furlong began to growtired, when Murphy hooked on his salmon, and gently brought it roundunder the water within range of his victim's observation. 

"This is wather dull work, " said Furlong. 

"Wait awhile, my dear sir; they are never lively in biting so early asthis--they're not set about feeding in earnest yet. Hilloa! by theHokey I have him!" shouted Murphy. Furlong looked on with greatanxiety, as Murphy made a well-feigned struggle with a heavy fish. 

"By this and that, he's a whopper!" cried Murphy in ecstasy. "He'skicking like a two-year old. I have him, though, as fast as the rock o'Dunamase. Come up, you thief!" cried he, with an exulting shout, as hepulled up the salmon with all the splash he could produce; and suddenlywhipping the fish over the side into the boat, he began flapping itabout as if it were plunging in the death-struggle. As soon as he hadaffected to kill it, he held it up in triumph before the castleconjuror, who was quite taken in by the feint, and protested hissurprise loudly. 

"Oh! that's nothing to what we'll do yet. If the day should become alittle more overcast, we'd have splendid sport, sir. "

"Well, I could not have believed, if I hadn't seen it, " said Furlong. 

"Oh! you'll see more than that, my boy, before we've done with them. "

"But I haven't got even a bite yet!"

"Nor I either, " said Dick; "you're not worse off than I am. "

"But how extwao'dinawy it is that I have not seen a fish wise since Ihave been on the wiver. "

"That's because they see us watching them, " said Dick. "The d----l suchcunning brutes I ever met with as the fish in this river: now, if youwere at a distance from the bank, you'd see them jumping as lively asgrasshoppers. Whisht! I think I had a nibble. "

"You don't seem to have good sport there, " shouted Murphy. 

"Vewy poo' indeed, " said Furlong, dolefully. 

"Play your line a little, " said Murphy; "keep the bait lively--you'renot up to the way of fascinating them yet. "

"Why, no; it's wather _noo_ to me. "

"'Faith!" said Murphy to himself, "it's new to all of us. It's a brannew invention in the fishing line. Billy, " said he to the _gossoon_, whowas in the boat with him, "we must catch a salmon again to _divart_ thatstrange gentleman--hook him on, my buck. "

"Yes, sir, " said Billy, with delighted eagerness, for the boy enteredinto the fun of the thing heart and soul, and as he hooked on the salmonfor a second haul, he interlarded his labours with such ejaculations as, "Oh, Misther Murphy, sir, but you're the funny jintleman. Oh, MistherMurphy, sir, how soft the stranger is, sir. The salmon's ready forketchin' now, sir. Will you ketch him yet, sir?"

"Coax him round, Billy, " said Murphy. 

The young imp executed the manoeuvre with adroitness; and Murphy waspreparing for another haul, as Furlong's weariness began to manifestitself. 

"Do you intend wemaining here all day? Do you know, I think I've nochance of any spo't. "

"Oh, wait till you hook _one_ fish, at all events, " said Murphy; "justhave it to say you killed a salmon in the new style. The day ispromising better. I'm sure we'll have sport yet. Hilloa! I've another!"and Murphy began hauling in the salmon. "Billy, you rascal, get ready;watch him--that's it--mind him now!" Billy put out his gaff to seize theprize, and, making a grand swoop, affected to miss the fish. "Gaff him, you thief, gaff him!" shouted Murphy, "gaff him, or he'll be off. "

"Oh, he's so lively, sir!" roared Billy; "he's a rogue, sir--he won'tlet me put the gaff undher him, sir--ow, he slipped away agin. "

"Make haste, Billy, or I can't hold him. "

"Oh, the thief!" said Billy; "one would think he was cotcht before, he'sso up to it. Ha!--hurroo!--I have him now, sir. " Billy made all thesplash he could in the water as Murphy lifted the fish to the surfaceand swung him into the boat. Again there was the flopping and the riot, and Billy screeching, "Kill him, sir!--kill him, sir!--or he'll be offout o' my hands!" In proper time the fish _was_ killed and shown up intriumph, and the imposture completed. 

And now Furlong began to experience that peculiar longing for catching afish, which always possesses men who see fish taken by others; and thedesire to have a salmon of his own killing induced him to remain on theriver. In the long intervals of idleness which occurred between theoccasional hooking up of the salmon, which Murphy _did_ every now andthen, Furlong _would be talking_ about business to Dick Dawson, so thatthey had not been very long on the water until Dick became enlightenedon some more very important points connected with the election. Murphynow pushed his boat on towards the shore. 

"You're not going yet?" said the anxious fisherman;--"_do_ wait till Icatch a fish!"

"Certainly, " said Murphy: "I'm only going to put Billy ashore, and sendhome what we've already caught. Mrs. O'Grady is passionately fond ofsalmon. "

Billy was landed, and a large basket in which the salmon had beenbrought down to the boat, was landed also--_empty_; and Murphy, liftingthe basket as if it contained a considerable weight, placed it onBilly's head, and the sly young rascal bent beneath it, as if all thefish Murphy had pretended to take were really in it; and he went on hishomeward way, with a tottering step, as if the load were too much forhim. 

"That boy, " said Furlong, "will never be able to cawwy all those fish tothe house. "

"Oh, they won't be too much for him, " said Dick. "Curse the fish! Iwish they'd bite. That thief, Murphy, has had all the sport; but he'sthe best fisherman in the county, I'll own that. "

The two boats all this time had been drifting down the river, and onopening a new reach of the stream, a somewhat extraordinary scene offishing presented itself. It was not like Murphy's fishing, the resultof a fertile invention, but the consequence of the evil destiny whichpresided over all the proceedings of Handy Andy. The fishing-party inthe boats beheld another fishing-party on shore, with this differencein the nature of what they sought to catch, that while they in theboats were looking for salmon, those on shore were seeking for apost-chaise; and as about a third part of a vehicle so called wasapparent above the water, Furlong exclaimed with extreme surprise--

"Well, if it ain't a post-chaise!"

"Oh! that's nothing extraordinary, " said Dick; "common enough here. "

"How do you mean?"

"We've a custom here of running steeple-chases in post-chaises. "

"Oh, thank you, " said Furlong. "Come, that's _too_ good. "

"You don't believe it, I see, " said Dick. "But you did not believe thesalmon-fishing till you saw it. "

"Oh, come now! How the deuce could you leap a ditch in a post-chaise?"

"I never said we leaped ditches; I only said we rode steeple-chases. Thesystem is this:--You go for a given point, taking high road, by-road, plain, or lane, as the case may be, making the best of your way how youcan. Now our horses in this country are celebrated for being goodswimmers, so it's a favourite plan to shirk a bridge sometimes byswimming a river. "

"But no post-chaise will float, " said Furlong, regularly arguing againstDick's mendacious absurdity. 

"Oh! we are prepared for that here. The chaises are made light, havecork bottoms, and all the solid work is made hollow; the doors are madewater tight, and, if the stream runs strong, the passenger jumps out andswims. "

"But that's not fair, " said Furlong; "it alters the weight. "

"Oh! it's allowed on both sides, " said Dick, "so it's all the same. It's as good for the goose as the gander. "

"I wather imagine it is much fitter for geese and ganders than humanbeings. I know I should wather be a goose on the occasion. "

All this time they were nearing the party on shore, and as thepost-chaise became more developed, so did the personages on the bank ofthe river: and amongst these Dick Dawson saw Handy Andy in the custodyof two men, and Squire O'Grady shaking his fist in his face and stormingat him. How all this party came there, it is necessary to explain. WhenHandy Andy had deposited Furlong at Merryvale, he drove back to pick upthe fallen postilion and his brother on the road; but before he reachedthem, he had to pass a public-house--I say _had_ to pass--but he didn't. Andy stopped, as every honourable postilion is bound to do, to drink thehealth of the gentleman who gives him the last half-crown: and he was sointent on "doing that same, " as they say in Ireland, that Andy's drivingbecame very equivocal afterwards. In short, he drove the post-chaiseinto the river; the horses got disentangled by kicking the traces (whichwere very willing to break) into pieces; and Andy, by sticking to theneck of the horse he rode, got out of the water. The horses got homewithout the post-chaise, and the other post-chaise and pair got homewithout a postilion, so that Owny Doyle was roused from his bed by theneighing of the horses at the gate of the inn. Great was his surprise atthe event, as, half clad, and a candle in his hand, he saw two pair ofhorses, one chaise, and no driver, at his door. The next morning theplot thickened. Squire O'Grady came to know if a gentleman had arrivedat the town on his way to Neck-or-Nothing Hall. The answer was in theaffirmative. Then "Where was he?" became a question. Then the reportarrived of the post-chaise being upset in the river. Then came storiesof postilions falling off, of postilions being changed, of Handy Andybeing employed to take the gentleman to the place; and out of thesematerials the story became current, that "an English gentleman wasdhrownded in the river in a post-chaise. " O'Grady set off directly witha party to have the river dragged, and near the spot encountering HandyAndy, he ordered him to be seized, and accused him of murdering hisfriend. 

It was in this state of things that the boats approached the party onland, and the moment Dick Dawson saw Handy Andy, he put out his oars andpulled away as hard as he could. At the moment he did so, Andy caughtsight of him, and pointing out Furlong and Dick to O'Grady, he shouted, "There he is!--there he is!--I never murdhered him? There he is!--stophim! Misther Dick, stop, for the love of God!"

"What's all this about?" said Furlong, in great amazement. 

"Oh, he's a process-server, " said Dick; "the people are going to drownhim, maybe. "

"To dwown him?" said Furlong, in horror. 

"If he has luck, " said Dick, "they'll only give him a good ducking; butwe had better have nothing to do with it. I would not like you to beengaged in one of these popular riots. "

"I shouldn't wellish it myself, " said Furlong. 

"Pull away, Dick, " said Murphy; "let them kill the blackguard, if theylike. "

"But will they kill him weally?" inquired Furlong, somewhat horrified. 

"'Faith, it's just as the whim takes them, " said Murphy; "but as wewish to be popular on the hustings, we must let them kill as many asthey please. "

Andy still shouted loud enough to be heard. "Misther Dick, they'regoin' to murdher me. "

"Poo' w'etch!" said Furlong, with a very uneasy shudder. 

"Maybe you'd think it right for us to land, and rescue him, " saidMurphy, affecting to put about the boat. 

"Oh, by no means, " said Furlong. "You're bettaw acquainted with thecustoms of the countwy than I am. "

"Then we'll row back to dinner as fast as we can, " said Murphy. "Pullaway, my hearties!" and, as he bent to his oars, he began bellowing theCanadian Boat-Song, to drown Andy's roar, and when he howled--

 "Our voices keep tune, "

there never was a more practical burlesque upon the words; but as headded--

 "Our oars keep time, "

he seemed to have such a pleasure in pulling, and looked so lively andflorid, that Furlong, chilled by his inactivity on the water, requestedMurtough to let him have an oar, to restore circulation by exercise. Murtough complied; but the novice had not pulled many strokes, beforehis awkwardness produced that peculiar effect called "catching a crab, "and a smart blow upon his chest sent him heels over head under thethwarts of the boat. 

"Wha-wha-a-t's that?" gasped Furlong, as he scrambled up again. 

"You only caught a crab, " said Murtough. 

"Good Heaven!" said Furlong, "you don't mean to say there are crabs aswell as salmon in the wiver. "

"Just as many crabs as salmon, " said Murtough; "pull away, my hearty. 

 "Row, brothers, row--the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!"

CHAPTER XII

The boats doubled round an angle in the river, and Andy was left in thehands of Squire O'Grady still threatening vengeance; but Andy, as longas the boats remained in sight, heard nothing but his own sweet voiceshouting at the top of its pitch, "They're going to murdher me!--MistherDick, Misther Dick, come back for the love o' God!"

"What are you roaring like a bull for?" said the Squire. 

"Why wouldn't I roar, sir? A bull would roar if he had as much rayson. "

"A bull has more reason than ever you had, you calf, " said the Squire. 

"Sure there he is, and can explain it all to you, " said Andy, pointingafter the boats. 

"Who is there?" asked the Squire. 

"Misther Dick, and the jintleman that I dhruv there. "

"Drove where?"

"To the Squire's. "

"What Squire?"

"Squire Egan's, to be sure. "

"Hold your tongue, you rascal; you're either drunk still, or tellinglies. The gentleman I mean wouldn't go to Mister Egan's; he was comingto me. "

"That's the jintleman I dhruv--that's all I know. He was in the shay, and was nigh shootin' me; and Micky Doolin stopped on the road, when hisbrother was nigh killed, and towld me to get up, for he wouldn't go nofarther, when the jintleman objected----"

"What did the gentleman object to?"

"He objected to Pether goin' into the shay. "

"Who is Peter?"

"Pether Doolin, to be sure. "

"And what brought Peter Doolin there?"

"He fell off the horses----"

"Wasn't it Mick Doolin you said was driving but a moment ago?"

"Ay, sir, but that was th' other shay. "

"What other chaise, you vagabond?"

"Th' other shay, your honour, that I never see at all, good orbad--only Pether. "

"What diabolical confusion you are making of the story, to be sure!There's no use in talking to you here, I see. Bring him after me, " saidthe Squire, to some of his people standing by. "I must keep him incustody till something more satisfactory is made out about the matter. "

"Sure it's not makin' a presner of me you'd be?" said Andy. 

"You shall be kept in confinement, you scoundrel, till something isheard of this strange gentleman. I'm afraid he's drowned. "

"D----l a dhrowned. I dhruv him to Squire Egan's, I'll take my bookoath. "

"That's downright nonsense, sir. He would as soon go into Squire Egan'shouse as go to Fiddler's Green. "[5]

 [5] Fiddler's Green is supposed to be situated on this (the cooler) side of the regions below. 

"'Faith, then, there's worse places than Fiddler's Green, " said Andy, "as some people may find out one o' these days. "

"I think, boys, " said O'Grady, to the surrounding countrymen, "we mustdrag the river. "

"Dhrag the river if you plase, " said Andy; "but, for the tendher mercyo' Heaven, don't dhrag me to jail! By all the crosses in a yard o'check, I dhruv the jintleman to Squire Egan's!--and there he was in thatboat I showed you five minutes agone. "

"Bring him after me, " said O'Grady. "The fellow is drunk still, orforgets all about it; I must examine him again. Take him over to thehall, and lock him up till I go home. "

"Arrah sure, your honour, " said Andy, commencing an appeal. 

"If you say another word, you scoundrel, " said the Squire, shaking hiswhip at him, "I'll commit you to jail this minute. Keep a sharp eyeafter him, Molloy, " were the last words of the Squire to a stout-builtpeasant, who took Andy in charge as the Squire mounted his horse androde away. 

Andy was marched off to Neck-or-Nothing Hall; and, in compliance withthe Squire's orders, locked up in the justice-room. This was anapartment where the Squire, in his magisterial capacity, dispensed whathe called justice, and what he possible meant to be such; but poorJustice coming out of Squire O'Grady's hands was something like thelittle woman in the song, who, having her petticoats cut short while shewas asleep, exclaimed on her waking--

 "As sure as I'm a little woman, this is none of I:"

only that Justice, in the present instance, did not doubt her identityfrom her nakedness, but from the peculiar dressing Squire O'Gradybestowed upon her--she was so muffled up in O'Gradyism that her ownmother (who, by the same token, was Themis) wouldn't know her. Indeed, if I remember, Justice is worse off than mortals respecting herparentage; for while there are many people who do not know who weretheir fathers, poets are uncertain who was Justice's mother:--some sayAurora, some say Themis. Now, if I might indulge at this moment in a bitof reverie, it would not be unreasonable to suppose that it is theclassic disposition of Ireland, which is known to be a very ancientcountry, that tends to make the operations of Justice assimilate withthe uncertainty of her birth; for her dispensations there are asdistinct as if they were the offspring of two different influences. Oneman's justice is not another man's justice; which, I suppose, must arisefrom the difference of opinion as to who and what Justice is. Perhapsthe rich people, who incline to power, may venerate Justice more as thechild of Jupiter and Themis; while the unruly ones worship her as thedaughter of Titan and Aurora; for undoubtedly the offspring of _Aurora_must be most welcome to "_Peep-o'-day boys_. "

Well--not to indulge further in reverie--Andy, I say, was locked up inthe justice-room; and as I have been making all these observations aboutJustice, a few words will not be thrown away about the room which shewas supposed to inhabit. Then I must say Squire O'Grady did not use herwell. The room was a cold, comfortless apartment, with a plastered walland an earthen floor, save at one end, where a raised platform of boardssustained a desk and one high office-chair. No other seat was in theroom, nor was there any lateral window, the room being lighted from thetop, so that Justice could be in no way interested with the countryoutside--she could only contemplate her native heaven through thesky-light. Behind the desk were placed a rude shelf, where some "moderninstances, " and old ones too, were lying-covered with dust--and agun-rack, where some carbines with fixed bayonets were paraded in showof authority; so that, to an imaginative mind, the aspect of the booksand the fire-arms gave the notion of Justice on the shelf, and Law onthe rack. 

But, Andy thought not of these things; he had not the imagination whichsometimes gives a prisoner a passing pleasure in catching a whimsicalconceit from his situation, and, in the midst of his anxiety, anticipatingthe satisfaction he shall have in saying a good thing, even at theexpense of his own suffering. Andy only knew that he was locked up inthe justice-room for something he never did. He had only sense enough tofeel that he was wronged, without the spirit to wish himself righted;and he sauntered up and down the cold, miserable room, anxiously waitingthe arrival of "his honour, Squire O'Grady, " to know what his fate mightbe, and wondering if they would hang him for upsetting a post-chaise inwhich a gentleman _had been_ riding, rather than brooding future meansof redress for his false imprisonment. 

There was no window to look out of; he had not the comfort of seeing apassing fellow-creature--for the sight of one's kind _is_ a comfort. Hecould not even behold the green earth and the freshness of nature, which, though all unconsciously, has still a soothing influence on theuncultivated mind; he had nothing but the walls to look at, and theywere blank, save here and there that a burnt stick in the hand of one ofthe young O'Gradies emulated the art of a Sandwich Islander, andsketched faces as grotesque as any Pagan could desire for his idol; orfigures after the old well-established school-boy manner, which in thepresent day is called Persian painting, "warranted to be taught in threelessons. " Now, this bespeaks degeneracy in the arts; for, in the time wewrite of, boys and girls acquired the art without any lessons at all, and abundant proofs of this intuitive talent existed on the aforesaidwalls. Napoleon and Wellington were fighting a duel, while Nelson stoodby to see fair play, he having nothing better to do, as the battle ofTrafalgar, represented in the distance, could, of course, go on withouthim. The anachronism of jumbling Buonaparte, Wellington, and Nelsontogether, was a trifle amongst the O'Gradies, as they were nearly asgreat proficients in history, ancient and modern, as in the fine arts. Amidst these efforts of genius appeared many an old rhyme, scratchedwith rusty nails by rustier policemen, while lounging in thejustice-room during the proceedings of the great O'Grady, and all thesewere gone over again and again by Andy, till they were worn out, all butone--a rough representation of a man hanging. 

This possessed a sort of fascination for poor Andy; for at last, relinquishing all others, he stood riveted before it, and muttered tohimself, "I wondher can they hang me--sure it's no murdher I done--butwho knows what witnesses they might get? and these times they swaremighty hard; and Squire O'Grady has such a pack o' blackguards abouthim, sure he could get anything swore he liked. Oh, wirra! wirra!what'll I do at all! Faix! I wouldn't like to be hanged--oh! look at himthere--just the last kick in him--and a disgrace to my poor mother intothe bargain. Augh!--but it's a dirty death to die--to be hung up like adog over a gate, or an old hat on a peg, just that-away;" and heextended his arm as he spoke, suspending his _caubeen_, while he lookedwith disgust at the effigy. "But sure they _can't_ hang me--though now Iremember Squire Egan towld me long ago I'd be hanged some day or other. I wondher does my mother know I'm tuk away--and Oonah, too, thecraythur, would be sorry for me. Maybe, if my mother spoke to SquireEgan, his honour would say a good word for me:--though that wouldn't do;for him and Squire O'Grady's bitther inimies now, though they wor oncegood friends. Och hone! sure that's the way o' the world; and a cruelworld it is--so it is. Sure 't would be well to be out of it a'most, andin a betther world. I hope there's no po'chaises in heaven!"

The soliloquy of poor Andy was interrupted by a low, measured sound ofthumping, which his accustomed ear at once distinguished to be theresult of churning; the room in which he was confined being one of arange of offices stretching backward from the principal building andnext door to the dairy. Andy had grown tired by this time of hisrepeated contemplation of the rhymes and sketches, his own thoughtsthereon, and his long confinement; and now the monotonous sound of thechurn-dash falling on his ear, acted as a sort of _busho_, [6] and theworried and wearied Andy at last laid down on the platform and fellasleep to the bumping lullaby. 

 [6] A soft, monotonous chant the nurses sing to children to induce sleep. 

CHAPTER XIII

The sportsmen, having returned from their fishing excursion to dinner, were seated round the hospitable board of Squire Egan; Murphy and Dickin high glee, at still successfully hoodwinking Furlong, and carryingon their mystification with infinite frolic. 

The soup had been removed, and they were in the act of enjoying thesalmon, which had already given so much enjoyment, when a loud knockingat the door announced the arrival of some fresh guest. 

"Did you ask any one to dinner, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Egan of hergood-humoured lord, who was the very man to invite any friend he met inthe course of the day, and forget it after. 

"No, my dear, " answered the Squire. "Did you, Dick?" said he. 

Dick replied in the negative, and said he had better go and see who itwas; for looks of alarm had been exchanged between him, the Squire, andMurphy, lest any stranger should enter without being apprised of thehoax going forward; and Dawson had just reached the dining-room door onhis cautionary mission, when it was suddenly thrown wide open, and inwalked, with a rapid step and bustling air, an active little gentlemandressed in black, who was at Mrs. Egan's side in a moment, exclaimingwith a very audible voice and much _empressement_ of manner--

"My dear Mrs. Egan, how do you do? I am delighted to see you. Took afriend's privilege, you see, and have come unbidden to claim thehospitality of your table. The fact is, I was making a sick visit tothis side of my parish; and finding it impossible to get home in timeto my own dinner, I had no scruple in laying yours under contribution. "

Now this was the Protestant clergyman of the parish, whose politicalviews were in opposition to those of Mr. Egan; but the good hearts ofboth men prevented political feeling from interfering, as in Ireland ittoo often does, with the social intercourse of life. Still, however, ifDick Dawson had got out of the room in time, this was not the man toassist them in covering their hoax on Furlong, and the scene becameexcessively ludicrous the moment the reverend gentleman made hisappearance. Dick, the Squire, and Murphy, opened their eyes at eachother, while Mrs. Egan grew as red as scarlet when Furlong stared ather in astonishment as the newcomer mentioned her name. She stammeredout welcome as well as she could, and called for a chair for Mr. Bermingham, with all sorts of kind inquiries for Mrs. Bermingham andthe little Berminghams--for the Bermingham manufactory in that line wasextensive. 

While the reverend gentleman was taking his seat, spreading his napkinand addressing a word to each round the table, Furlong turned to FannyDawson, beside whom he was sitting (and who, by-the-bye, could notresist a fit of laughter on the occasion), and said with a bewilderedlook--

"Did he not addwess _Madame_ as Mistwess Egan?"

"Yeth, " said Fanny, with admirable readiness; "but whithper. " And asFurlong inclined his head towards her, she whispered in his ear, "Youmuthn't mind him--he's mad, poor man!--that is, a _little_ inthane--andthinks every lady is Mrs. Egan. An unhappy pathion, poor fellow!--but_quite harmleth_. "

Furlong uttered a very prolonged "Oh!" at Fanny's answer to his inquiry, and looked sharply round the table, for there was an indefinablesomething in the conduct of every one at the moment of Mr. Bermingham'sentrance that attracted his attention, and the name "Egan, " andeverybody's _fidgetiness_ (which is the only word I can apply), rousedhis suspicion. Fanny's answer only half satisfied him; and looking atMrs. Egan, who could not conquer her confusion, he remarked "How _vewy_wed Mistwess O'Gwady gwew!"

"Oh! thee can't help bluthing, poor soul! when he thays 'Egan' to her, and thinks her his _furth_ love. "

"How _vewy_ widiculous to be sure, " said Furlong. 

"Haven't you innothent mad people thumtimes in England?" said Fanny. 

"Oh _vewy_" said Furlong, "but this appea's to me so wema'kablystwange an abbewation. "

"Oh, " returned Fanny, with quickness, "I thuppose people go mad ontheir ruling pathion, and the ruling pathion of the Irish, you know, is love. "

The conversation all this time was going on in other quarters, andFurlong heard Mr. Bermingham talking of his having preached last Sundayin his new church. 

"Suwely, " said he to Fanny, "they would not pe'mit an insane gle'gymanto pweach?"

"Oh, " said Fanny, almost suffocating with laughter, "he only_thinkth_ he's a clergyman. "

"How vewy dwoll you are!" said Furlong. 

"Now you're only quithing me, " said Fanny, looking with affectedinnocence in the face of the unfortunate young gentleman she had beenquizzing most unmercifully the whole day. 

"Oh, Miste' O'Gwady, " said Furlong, "we saw them going to dwown a manto-day. "

"Indeed!" said the Squire, reddening, as he saw Mr. Bermingham stare athis being called O'Grady; so, to cover the blot, and stop Furlong, heasked him to take wine. 

"Do they often dwown people here?" continued Furlong, after he hadbowed. 

"Not that I know of, " said the Squire. 

"But are not the lowe' o'ders wather given to what Lo'd Baconcalls----"

"Who cares about Lord Bacon?" said Murphy. 

"My dear sir, you supwise me!" said Furlong, in utter amazement. "LordBacon's sayings----"

"'Pon my conscience, " said Murphy, "both himself and his sayings arevery _rusty_ by this time. "

"Oh, I see, Miste' Muffy. You neve' will be sewious. "

"Heaven forbid!" said Murphy--"at least at dinner, or _after_dinner. Seriousness is only a morning amusement--it makes a very poorfigure in the evening. "

"By-the-bye, " said Mr. Bermingham, "talking of drowning, I heard a veryodd story to-day from O'Grady. You and he, I believe, " said theclergyman, addressing Egan, "are not on as good terms as you were. "

At this speech Furlong did _rather_ open his eyes, the Squire hummed andhawed, Murphy coughed, Mrs. Egan looked into her plate, and Dick, makinga desperate rush to the rescue, asked Furlong which he preferred, asingle or a double barrelled gun. 

Mr. Bermingham, perceiving the sensation his question created, thoughthe had touched upon forbidden ground, and therefore did not repeat hisquestion, and Fanny whispered Furlong that one of the stranger's madpeculiarities was mistaking one person for another; but all this didnot satisfy Furlong, whose misgivings as to the real name of his hostwere growing stronger every moment. At last, Mr. Bermingham, withoutalluding to the broken friendship between Egan and O'Grady, returned tothe "odd story" he had heard that morning about drowning. 

"'T is a strange affair, " said he, "and our side of the country is allalive about it. A gentleman who was expected from Dublin last night atNeck-or-Nothing Hall, arrived, as it is ascertained, at the village, and thence took a post-chaise, since which time he has not been heardof; and as a post-chaise was discovered this morning sunk in the river, close by Ballysloughgutthery bridge, it is suspected the gentleman hasbeen drowned either by accident or design. The postilion is inconfinement on suspicion, and O'Grady has written to the Castle aboutit to-day, for the gentleman was a government agent. "

"Why, sir, " said Furlong, "that must be me!"

"_You_, sir!" said Mr. Bermingham, whose turn it was to besurprised now. 

"Yes, sir, " said Furlong, "I took a post-chaise at the village lastnight, and I'm an agent of the gove'ment. "

"But you're not drowned, sir--and he was, " said Bermingham. 

"To be su'e I'm not dwowned; but I'm the pe'son. "

"Quite impossible, sir, " said Mr. Bermingham. "You can't be theperson. "

"Why, sir, do you expect to pe'suade me out of my own identity!"

"Oh, " said Murphy, "there will be no occasion to prove identity tillthe body is found, and the coroner's inquest sits; that's the law, sir--at least, in Ireland. "

Furlong's bewildered look at the unblushing impudence of Murphy wasworth anything. While he was dumb from astonishment, Mr. Bermingham, with marked politeness, said, "Allow me, sir, for a moment to explainto you. You see, it could not be you, for the gentleman was going toMr. O'Grady's. "

"Well, sir, " said Furlong, "and here I am. "

The wide stare of the two men as they looked at each other was killing;and while Furlong's face was turned towards Mr. Bermingham, Fannycaught the clergy-man's eye, tapped her forehead with the fore-fingerof her right hand, shook her head, and turned up her eyes with anexpression of pity, to indicate that Furlong was not quite right in hismind. 

"Oh, I beg pardon, sir, " said Mr. Bermingham. "I see it's a mistake ofmine. "

"There certainly is a vewy gweat mistake somewhere, " said Furlong, whowas now bent on a very direct question. "Pway, Miste' O'Gwady, " saidhe, addressing Egan, "that is, if you _are_ Miste' O'Gwady, willyou tell me, _are_ you Miste' O'Gwady?"

"Sir, " said the Squire, "you have chosen to call me O'Grady ever sinceyou came here, but my name is Egan. "

"What!--the member for the county?" cried Furlong, horrified. 

"Yes, " said the Squire, laughing; "do you want a frank?"

"'T will save your friends postage, " said Dick, "when you write to themto say you're safe. "

"Miste' Wegan, " said Furlong, with an attempt at offended dignity, "Iconside' myself vewy ill used. "

"You're the first man I ever heard of being ill used at MerryvaleHouse, " said Murphy. 

"Sir, it's a gwievous w'ong!"

"What _is_ all this about?" asked Mr. Bermingham. 

"My dear friend, " said the Squire, laughing--though, indeed, that wasnot peculiar to _him_, for every one round the table, save the victim, was doing the same thing (as for Fanny, she _shouted_), --"My dearfriend, this gentleman came to my house last night, and _I_ took him fora friend of Moriarty's, whom I have been expecting for some days. _He_thought, it appears, this was Neck-or-Nothing Hall, and thus a mutualmistake has arisen. All I can say is, that you are most welcome, Mr. Furlong, to the hospitality of this house as long as you please. "

"But, sir, you should not have allowed me to wemain in you' house, "said Furlong. 

"That's a doctrine, " said the Squire, "in which you will find itdifficult to make an Irish host coincide. "

"But you must have known, sir, that it was not my intention to come toyour house. "

"How could I know that, sir?" said the Squire, jocularly. 

"Why, Miste' Wegan--you know--that is--in fact--confound it, sir!" saidFurlong, at last, losing his temper, "you know I told you all about ourelectioneering tactics. "

A loud laugh was all the response Furlong received to this outbreak. 

"Well, sir, " repeated he, "I pwotest it is extremely unfair. "

"You know, my dear sir, " said Dick, "we Irish are such _poor ignorantcreatures_, according to your own account, that we can make no useof the knowledge with which you have so generously supplied us. "

"You know, " said the Squire, "we have no _real_ finesse. "

"Sir, " said Furlong, growing sulky, "there is a certain finesse that is_fair_, and another that is _unfair_--and I pwotest against----"

"Pooh, pooh!" said Murphy. "Never mind trifles. Just wait till to-morrow, and I'll show you even better salmon-fishing than you had to-day. "

"Sir, no consideration would make me wemain anothe' wower in thishouse. "

Murphy screwed his lips together, puffed out something between a whistleand the blowing out of a candle, and ventured to suggest to Furlong hehad better wait even a couple of hours, till he had got his allowance ofclaret. "Remember the adage, sir, '_In vino veritas_, ' and we'll tellyou all _our_ electioneering secrets after we've had enough wine. "

"As soon, Miste' Wegan, " said Mr. Furlong, quite chapfallen, "as you cantell me how I can get to the house to which I _intended_ to go, I willbe weddy to bid you good evening. "

"If you are determined, Mr. Furlong, to remain here no longer, I shallnot press my hospitality upon you; whenever you decide upon going, mycarriage shall be at your service. "

"The soone' the bette', sir, " said Furlong, retreating still furtherinto a cold and sulky manner. 

The Squire made no further attempt to conciliate him; he merely said, "Dick, ring the bell. Pass the claret, Murphy. "

The bell was rung--the claret passed--a servant entered, and orders weregiven by the Squire that the carriage should be at the door as soon aspossible. In the interim, Dick Dawson, the Squire, and Murphy, laughedas if nothing had happened, and Mrs. Egan conversed in an under-tonewith Mr. Bermingham. Fanny looked mischievous, and Furlong kept his handon the foot of his glass, and shoved it about something in the fashionof an uncertain chess-player, who does not know where to put the pieceon which he has laid his finger. 

The carriage was soon announced, and Mrs. Egan, as Furlong seemed soanxious to go, rose from table; and as she retired, he made her a coldand formal bow. He attempted a tender look and soft word to Fanny--forFurlong, who thought himself a _beau garçon_, had been playing off hisattractions upon her all day, but the mischievously merry Fanny Dawson, when she caught the sheepish eye, and heard the mumbled gallantry of theCastle Adonis, could not resist a titter, which obliged her to hide herdimpling cheek and pearly teeth in her handkerchief, as she passed tothe door. The ladies being gone, the Squire asked Furlong, would he nothave some more wine before he went. 

"No, thank you, Miste' Wegan, " replied he, "after being twicked in themanner that a----"

"Mr. Furlong, " said the Squire, "you have said quite enough about that. When you came into my house last night, sir, I had no intention ofpractising any joke upon you. You should have had the hospitality of anIrishman's house, without the consequence that has followed, had you notindulged in sneering at the Irishman's country, which, to your shame beit spoken, is _your own_. You vaunted your own superior intelligence andfinesse over us, sir; and told us you came down to overthrow poor Pat inthe trickery of electioneering movements. Under these circumstances, sir, I think what we have done is quite fair. We have shown you that youare no match for us in the finesse upon which you pride yourself somuch; and the next time you talk of your countrymen, and attempt toundervalue them, just remember how you have been outwitted at MerryvaleHouse. Good evening, Mr. Furlong, I hope we part without owing eachother any ill-will. " The Squire offered his hand, but Furlong drew up, and amidst such expletives as "weally, " and "I must say, " he at lastmade use of the word "atwocious. "

"What's that you say?" said Dick. "You don't speak very plain, and I'dlike to be sure of the last word you used. "

"I mean to say that a----" and Furlong, not much liking the _tone_of Dick's question, was humming and hawing a sort of explanation ofwhat "he meant to say, " when Dick thus interrupted him--

"I tell you this, Mr. Furlong; all that has been done is my doing--I'vehumbugged you, sir, --_hum-bugged_. I've sold you--dead. I've pumped you, sir--all your electioneering bag of tricks, _bribery_ and all, exposed;and now go off to O'Grady, and tell him how the poor ignorant Irish have_done_ you; and see, Mr. Furlong, " in a quiet under-tone, "if there'sanything that either he or you don't like about the business, you shallhave any satisfaction you like, and as often as you please. "

"I shall _conside'_ of that, sir, " said Furlong, as he left the house, and entered the carriage, where he threw himself back in offendeddignity, and soliloquised vows of vengeance. But the bumping of thecarriage over a rough road disturbed the pleasing reveries of revenge, to awaken him to the more probable and less agreeable consequenceslikely to occur to himself for the blunder he had made; for, with allthe puppy's self-sufficiency and conceit, he could not by any process ofmental delusion conceal from himself the fact that he had been mosttremendously _done_, and how his party would take it was a seriousconsideration. O'Grady, another horrid Irish squire--how should he face_him_? For a moment he thought it better to go back to Dublin, and hepulled the check-string--the carriage stopped--down went the frontglass. "I say, coachman. "

"I'm not the coachman, sir. "

"Well, whoever you are----"

"I'm the groom only, sir; for the coachman was----"

"Sir, I don't want to know who you are, or about your affairs; I wantyou to listen to me--_cawn't_ you listen?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, then--dwive to the village. "

"I thought it was to the Hall I was to dhrive, sir. "

"Do what you're told, sir--the village!"

"What village, sir?" asked Mat, the groom, who knew well enough, butfrom Furlong's impertinence did not choose to understand anythinggratuitously. 

"Why the village I came from yeste'day. "

"What village was that, sir?"

"How stoopid you are!--the village the mail goes to. "

"Sure the mail goes to all the villages in Ireland, sir. "

"You pwovoking blockhead!--Good Heavens, how _stoopid_ you Iwishare!--the village that leads to Dublin. "

"'Faith they all lead to Dublin, sir. "

"Confound you--you must know!--the posting village, you know--that is, not the post town, if you know what a post town is. "

"To be sure I do, sir--where they sell blankets, you mane. "

"No--no--no! I want to go to the village where they keeppost-chaises--now you know. "

"Faix, they have po'chayses in all the villages here; there's no bettheraccommodation for man or baste in the world than here, sir. "

Furlong was mute from downright vexation, till his rage got vent in anoath, another denunciation of Irish stupidity, and at last a declarationthat the driver _must_ know the village. 

"How would I know it, sir, when you don't know it yourself?" asked thegroom; "I suppose it has a name to it, and if you tell me that, I'lldhrive you there fast enough. "

"I cannot wemember your howwid names here--it is a Bal, or Bally, orsome such gibbewish----"

Mat would not be enlightened. 

"Is there not Bal or Bally something?"

"Oh, a power o' Bailies, sir; there's Ballygash, and Ballyslash, andBallysmish, and Ballysmash, and----" so went on Mat, inventing a stringof Ballies, till he was stopped by the enraged Furlong. 

"None o' them! none o' them!" exclaimed he, in a fury; "'t is somethingabout 'dirt' or 'mud. '"

"Maybe 't would be _gutther_, sir, " said Mat, who saw Furlong was nearthe mark, and he thought he might as well make a virtue of telling him. 

"I believe you're right, " said Furlong. 

"Then it is Ballysloughgutthery you want to go to, sir. "

"That's the name!" said Furlong, snappishly; "dwive _there_!" and, hastily pulling up the glass, he threw himself back again in thecarriage. Another troubled vision of what the secretary would say cameacross him, and, after ten minutes' balancing the question, andtrembling at the thoughts of an official blowing up, he thought he hadbetter even venture on an Irish squire; so the check-string was againpulled, and the glass hastily let down. 

Mat halted. "Yes, sir, " said Mat. 

"I think I've changed my mind--dwive to the Hall!"

"I wish you'd towld me, sir, before I took the last turn--we're nigh amile towards the village now. "

"No matte', sir!" said Furlong; "dwive where I tell you. "

Up went the glass again, and Mat turned round the horses and carriagewith some difficulty in a narrow by-road. 

Another vision came across the bewildered fancy of Furlong: thecertainty of the fury of O'Grady--the immediate contempt as well asanger attendant on his being bamboozled--and the result at last beingthe same in drawing down the secretary's anger. This produced anotherchange of intention, and he let down the glass for the third time--oncemore changed his orders as concisely as possible, and pulled it upagain. All this time Mat was laughing internally at the bewilderment ofthe stranger, and as he turned round the carriage again he muttered tohimself, "By this and that, you're as hard to dhrive as a pig; foryou'll neither go one road nor th' other. " He had not proceeded far, when Furlong determined to face O'Grady instead of the Castle, and thelast and final order for another turnabout was given. Mat hardlysuppressed an oath; but respect for his master stopped him. The glass ofthe carriage was not pulled up this time, and Mat was asked a fewquestions about the Hall, and at last about the Squire. Now Mat hadacuteness enough to fathom the cause of Furlong's indecision, anddetermined to make him as unhappy as he could; therefore to the questionof "What sort of a man the Squire was?" Mat, re-echoing the question, replied--"What sort of a man, sir?--'Faith, he's not a man at all, sir, he's the devil. "

Furlong pulled up the glass, and employed the interval between Mat'sanswer and reaching the Hall in making up his mind as to how he should"face the devil. "

The carriage, after jolting for some time over a rough road skirted by ahigh and ruinous wall, stopped before a gateway that had once beenhandsome, and Furlong was startled by the sound of a most thunderingbell, which the vigorous pull of Mat stimulated to its utmost pitch; thebaying of dogs which followed was terrific. A savage-looking gatekeepermade his appearance with a light--not in a lantern, but shaded with histattered hat; many questions and answers ensued, and at last the gatewas opened. The carriage proceeded up a very ragged avenue, stoppedbefore a large rambling sort of building, which even moonlight couldexhibit to be very much out of repair, and after repeated knocking atthe door (for Mat knew _his_ squire and the other squire were notfriends now, and that he might be impudent), the door was unchained andunbarred, and Furlong deposited in Neck-or-Nothing Hall. 

CHAPTER XIV

 "Such is the custom of Branksome Hall. "

 _Lay of the Last Minstrel. _

 NECK-OR-NOTHING HALL

 CANTO I

 Ten good nights and ten good days It would take to tell thy ways, Various, many, and amazing: Neck-or-Nothing bangs all praising. Wonders great and wonders small Are found in Neck-or-Nothing Hall. 

 Racing rascals of ten a twain, Who care not a rush for hail nor rain, Messages swiftly to go or to come, Or duck a taxman or harry a bum, [7] Or "clip a server, "[8] did blithely lie In the stable parlour next to the sky[9] Dinners, save chance ones, seldom had they, Unless they could nibble their beds of hay; But the less they got, they were hardier all-- 'T was the custom of Neck-or-Nothing Hall. 

 [7] A facetious phrase for bailiff, so often kicked. 

 [8] Cutting off the ears of a process-server. 

 [9] Hayloft. 

 One lord there sat in that terrible hall, Two ladies came at his terrible call, -- One his mother and one his wife, Each afraid of her separate life; Three girls who trembled--four boys who shook Five times a day at his lowering look, Six blunderbuses in goodly show, Seven horse-pistols were ranged below, Eight domestics, great and small, In idlesse did nothing but curse them all; Nine state beds, where no one slept-- Ten for family use were kept; Dogs eleven with bums to make free, With a bold thirteen[10] in the treasury-- (Such its numerical strength, I guess It can't be more, but it may be less). Tar-barrels new and feathers old Are ready, I trow, for the caitiff bold Who dares to invade The stormy shade Of the grim O'Grade, In his hunting hold. 

 [10] A shilling, so called from its being worth thirteen pence in those days. 

 When the iron tongue of the old gate bell Doth summon the growling grooms from cell, Through cranny and crook They peer and they look, With guns to send the intruders to heaven. [11] But when passwords pass That might "serve a mass, "[12] Then bars are drawn and chains let fall, And you get into Neck-or-Nothing Hall. 

 [11] This is not the word in the MS. 

 [12] Serving mass occupies about twenty-five minutes. 

 CANTO II

 And never a doubt But when you are in, If you love a whole skin, I'll wager (and win) You'll be glad to get out. 

 _Dr. Growling's Metrical Romance. _

The bird's-eye view which the doctor's peep from Parnassus has afforded, may furnish the imagination of the reader with materials to create inhis own mind a vague yet not unjust notion of Neck-or-Nothing Hall; butcertain details of the Hall itself, its inmates and its customs, may bedesired by the matter-of-fact reader or the more minutely curious, andas the author has the difficult task before him of trying to please alltastes, something more definite is required. 

The Hall itself was, as we have said, a rambling sort of structure. Ramifying from a solid centre, which gave the notion of a founder wellto do in the world, additions, without any architectural pretensions tofitness, were _stuck_ on here and there, as whim or necessity suggestedor demanded, and a most incongruous mass of gables, roofs, and chimneys, odd windows and blank walls, was the consequence. According to thecircumstances of the occupants who inherited the property, the buildingwas either increased or neglected. A certain old bachelor, for example, who in the course of events inherited the property, had no necessity fornurses, nursery-maids, and their consequent suite of apartments; and ashe never aspired to the honour of matrimony, the ball-room, thedrawing-room, and extra bed-chambers were neglected; but being afox-hunter, a new kennel and range of stables were built, thedining-room enlarged, and all the ready money he could get at spent inaugmenting the plate, to keep pace with the racing-cups he won, andproudly displayed at his drinking-bouts; and when he died suddenly(broke his neck), the plate was seized at the suit of his wine-merchant;and as the heir next in succession got the property in a ruinouscondition, it was impossible to keep a stud of horses along with a wifeand a large family, so the stables and kennel went to decay, while theladies and family apartments could only be patched up. When the housewas dilapidated, the grounds about it, of course, were ill kept. Fineold trees were there, originally intended to afford shade to walks whichwere so neglected as to be no more walkable than any other part of thegrounds--the vista of aspiring stems indicated where an avenue had been, but neither hoe nor rolling-stone had, for many a year, checked thegrowth of grass or weed. So much for the outside of the house: now forthe inside. 

That had witnessed many a thoughtless, expensive, headlong and irasciblemaster, but never one more so than the present owner; added to which, hehad the misfortune of being unpopular. Other men, thoughtless, andheadlong, and irritable as he, have lived and had friends; but there wassomething about O'Grady that was felt, perhaps, more than it could bedefined, which made him unpleasing--perhaps the homely phrase"cross-grained" may best express it, and O'Grady was essentially across-grained man. The estate, when he got it, was pretty heavilysaddled, and the "galled jade" did not "wince" the less for his riding. 

A good jointure to his mother was chargeable on the property, and thiswas an excuse on all occasions for the Squire's dilatory payment inother quarters. "Sir, " he would say, "my mother's jointure is sacred--itis more than the estate can well bear, it is true, but it is a sacredclaim, and I would sooner sacrifice my life, my _honour_, sir, than seethat claim neglected!" Now all this sounded mighty fine, but his mothercould never see her jointure regularly paid, and was obliged to live inthe house with him: she was somewhat of _an oddity_, and had apartmentsto herself, and, as long as she was let alone, and allowed to readromances in quiet, did not complain; and whenever a stray ten-pound note_did_ fall into her hands, she gave the greater part of it to heryounger grand-daughter, who was fond of flowers and plants, andsupported a little conservatory on her grand-mother's bounty, she payingthe tribute of a bouquet to the old lady when the state of her botanicalprosperity could afford it. The eldest girl was a favourite of an uncle, and _her_ passion being dogs, all the presents her uncle made her inmoney were converted into canine curiosities; while the youngest girltook an interest in the rearing of poultry. Now the boys, varying in agefrom eight to fourteen, had their separate favourites too--one lovedbull-dogs and terriers, another game-cocks, the third ferrets, and thefourth rabbits and pigeons. These multifarious tastes produced strangeresults. In the house, flowers and plants, indicating refinement oftaste and costliness, were strongly contrasted with broken plaster, soiled hangings, and faded paint; an expensive dog might be seen lappingcream out of a shabby broken plate; a never-ending sequence of warsraged among the dependent favourites, the bull-dogs and terrierschopping up the ferrets, the ferrets killing the game-cocks, thegame-cocks killing the tame poultry and rabbits, and the rabbitsdestroying the garden, assisted by the flying reserve of pigeons. It wasa sort of Irish retaliation, so amusingly exemplified in the nurseryjingle--

 The water began to quench the fire, The fire began to burn the stick, The stick began to beat the dog, The dog began to bite the kid. 

In the midst of all these distinct and clashing tastes, that of Mrs. O'Grady (the wife) must not be forgotten; her weak point was a featherbed. Good soul! anxious that whoever slept under her roof should liesoftly, she would go to the farthest corner of the county to secure anaccession to her favourite property--and such a collection of luxuriousfeather beds never was seen in company with such rickety bedsteads andtattered and mildewed curtains, in rooms uncarpeted, whose paper wasdropping off the wall, --well might it be called paper-hangingindeed!--whose washing-tables were of deal, and whose delf was of theplainest ware, and even that minus sundry handles and spouts. Nor wasthe renowned O'Grady without his hobby, too. While the various membersof his family were thwarting each other, his master-mischief wasthwarting them all; like some wicked giant looking down on a squabble ofdwarfs, and ending the fight by kicking them all right and left. Then_he_ had _his_ troop of pets too--idle blackguards who wereslingeing[13] about the place eternally, keeping up a sort of "cordonsanitaire, " to prevent the pestilential presence of a bailiff, which isso catching, and turns to jail fever, a disease which had been fatal inthe family. O'Grady never ventured beyond his domain except on the backof a fleet horse--there he felt secure; indeed, the place he mostdreaded legal assault in was his own house, where he apprehendedtrickery might invade him: a carriage might be but a feint, and hencethe great circumspection in the opening of doors. 

 [13] An Hibernicism, expressive of lounging laziness. 

From the nature of the establishment, thus hastily sketched, the readerwill see what an ill-regulated jumble it was. The master, in difficulties, had disorderly people hanging about his place for his personal security;from these very people his boys picked up the love of dog-fights, cock-fights, &c. ; and they, from the fights of their pets, foughtamongst themselves, and were always fighting with their sisters; so thereader will see the "metrical romance" was not overcharged in its rhymeson Neck-or-Nothing Hall. 

When Furlong entered the hall, he gave his name to a queer-lookingservant with wild scrubby hair, a dirty face, a tawdry livery, worsefor wear, which had manifestly been made for a larger man, and hung uponits present possessor like a coat upon a clothes-horse; his cottonstockings, meant to be white, and clumsy shoes, meant to be black, meteach other half-way, and split the difference in a pleasing neutraltint. Leaving Furlong standing in the hall, he clattered up-stairs, anda dialogue ensued between master and man so loud that Furlong could hearthe half of it, and his own name in a tone of doubt, with that of"Egan, " in a tone of surprise, and that of his "sable majesty" in a toneof anger, rapidly succeeded one another; then such broken words andsentences as these ensued--"fudge!--humbug!--rascally trick!--eh!--bythe hokey, they'd better take care!--put the scoundrel under the pump!"

Furlong more than half suspected it was to him this delicate attentionwas intended, and began to feel uncomfortable: he sharpened his ears totheir keenest hearing, but there was a lull in the conversation, and hecould ascertain one of the gentler sex was engaged in it by the ogre-likevoice uttering, "Fudge, woman!--fiddle-de-dee!" Then he caught the words, "perhaps, " and "gentleman, " in a lady's voice; then out thundered "thatrascal's carriage!--why come in that?--friend!--humbug!--rascal'scarriage!--tar and feather him, by this and that!"

Furlong began to feel very uncomfortable; the conversation ended; downcame the servant, to whom Furlong was about to address himself, when theman said, "He would be with him in a minit, " and vanished; a sort ofreconnoitering party, one by one, then passed through the hall, eyeingthe stranger very suspiciously, any of them to whom Furlong ventured aword scurrying off in double-quick time. For an instant he meditated aretreat, and, looking to the door, saw a heavy chain across it, thepattern of which must have been had from Newgate. He attempted tounfasten it, and as it clanked heavily, the ogre's voice from up-stairsbellowed, "Who the d----l's that opening the door?" Furlong's handdropped from the chain, and a low growling went on up the staircase. Theservant whom he first saw returned. 

"I fear, " said Furlong, "there is some misappwehension. "

"A what, sir?"

"A misappwehension. "

"Oh, no, sir! it's only a mistake the master thought you might bemaking; he thinks you mistuk the house, maybe, sir?"

"Oh, no--I _wather_ think he mistakes me. Will you do me the favo', "and he produced a packet of papers as he spoke--"the favo' to take mycwedentials to Mr. O'Gwady, and if he throws his eye over thesepape's----"

At the word "papers, " there was a shout from above, "Don't touch them, you thief, don't touch them!--another blister, --ha! ha! By the 'ternalthis and that, I'll have him in the horse-pond!" A heavy stampingoverhead ensued, and furious ringing of bells; in the midst of the din, a very pale lady came down-stairs, and pointing the way to a smallroom, beckoned Furlong to follow her. For a moment he hesitated, forhis heart misgave him; but shame at the thought of doubting or refusingthe summons of a lady overcame his fear, and he followed to a littleparlour, where mutual explanations between Mrs. O'Grady and himself, and many messages, questions, and answers, which she carried up anddown stairs, at length set Furlong's mind at ease respecting hispersonal safety, and finally admitted him into the presence of thetruculent lord of the castle--who, when he heard that Furlong had beenstaying in the enemy's camp, was not, it may be supposed, in a sweettemper to receive him. O'Grady looked thunder as Furlong entered, andeyeing him keenly for some seconds, as if he were taking a mental aswell as an ocular measurement of him, he saluted him with--

"Well, sir, a pretty kettle of fish you've made of this. I hope you havenot blabbed much about our affairs?"

"Why, I weally don't know--I'm not sure--that is, I won't be positive, because when one is thwown off his guard, you know----"

"Pooh, sir! a man should never be off his guard in an election. But howthe d----l, sir, could you make such a thundering mistake as to go tothe wrong house?"

"It was a howwid postilion, Miste' O'Gwady. "

"The scoundrel!" exclaimed O'Grady, stamping up and down the room. 

At this moment, a tremendous crash was heard; the ladies jumped fromtheir seats; O'Grady paused in his rage, and his poor, pale wifeexclaimed--

"'T is in the conservatory. "

A universal rush was now made to the spot, and there was Handy Andy, buried in the ruins of flower-pots and exotics, directly under anenormous breach in the glass roof of the building. How this occurred afew words will explain. Andy, when he went to sleep in the justice-room, slept soundly for some hours, but awoke in the horrors of a dream, inwhich he fancied he was about to be hanged. So impressed was he by thevision, that he determined on making his escape if he could, and tothis end piled the chair upon the desk, and the volumes of law books onthe chair, and, being an active fellow, contrived to scramble up highenough to lay his hand on the frame of the sky-light, and thus make hisway out on the roof. Then walking, as well as the darkness would permithim, along the coping of the wall, he approached, as it chanced, theconservatory; but the coping being loose, one of the flags turned underAndy's foot, and bang he went through the glass roof, carrying down inhis fall some score of flower-pots, and finally stuck in a tub, withhis legs upwards, and embowered in the branches of crushed geraniumsand hydrangeas. 

He was dragged out of the tub, amidst a shower of curses from O'Grady;but the moment Andy recovered the few senses he had, and saw Furlong, regardless of the anathemas of the Squire, he shouted out, "There heis!--there he is!" and rushing towards him, exclaimed, "Now, did Idhrowned you, sir, --did I? Sure, I never murdhered you!"

'T was as much as could be done to keep O'Grady's hands off Andy, forsmashing the conservatory, when Furlong's presence made him no longerliable to imprisonment. 

"Maybe he has a vote, " said Furlong, anxious to display how much he wason the _qui vive_ in election matters. 

"_Have_ you a vote, you rascal?"

"You may sarche me if you like, your honour, " said Andy, who thought avote was some sort of property he was suspected of stealing. 

"You are either the biggest rogue or the biggest fool I ever met, " saidO'Grady. "Which are you now?"

"Whichever your honour plazes, " said Andy. 

"If I forgive you, will you stand by me at the election?"

"I'll stand anywhere your honour bids me, " said Andy humbly. 

"That's a thorough-going rogue, I'm inclined to think, " said O'Grady, aside to Furlong. 

"He looks more like a fool in my appwehension, " was the reply. 

"Oh, these fellows conceal the deepest roguery sometimes under anassumed simplicity. You don't understand the Irish. "

"Und'stand!" exclaimed Furlong; "I pwonounce the whole countwy quiteincompwhensible!"

"Well!" growled O'Grady to Andy, after a moment's consideration, "godown to the kitchen, you house-breaking vagabond, and get your supper!"

Now, considering the "fee, faw, fum" qualities of O'Grady, the readermay be surprised at the easy manner in which Andy slipped through hisfingers, after having slipped through the roof of his conservatory; butas between two stools folks fall to the ground, so between two ragespeople sometimes tumble into safety. O'Grady was in a dividedpassion--first his wrath was excited against Furlong for _his_ blunder, and just as that was about to explode, the crash of Andy's suddenappearance amidst the flower-pots (like a practical parody on "Loveamong the roses") called off the gathering storm in a new direction, and the fury sufficient to annihilate one, was, by dispersion, harmlessto two. But on the return of the party from the conservatory, afterAndy's descent to the kitchen, O'Grady's rage against Furlong, thoughmoderated, had settled down into a very substantial dissatisfaction, which he evinced by poking his nose between his forefinger and thumb, as if he meditated the abstraction of that salient feature from hisface, shuffling his feet about, throwing his right leg over his leftknee, and then suddenly, as if that were a mistake, throwing his leftover the right, thrumming on the arm of his chair, with his clenchedhand, inhaling the air very audibly through his protruded lips, as ifhe were supping hot soup, and all the time fixing his eyes on the firewith a portentous gaze, as if he would have evoked from it asalamander. 

Mrs. O'Grady in such a state of affairs, wishing to speak to thestranger, yet anxious she should say nothing that could bear uponimmediate circumstances lest she might rouse her awful lord and master, racked her invention for what she should say; and at last, with "batedbreath" and a very worn-out smile, faltered forth--

"Pray, Mr. Furlong, are you fond of shuttlecock?"

Furlong stared, and began a reply of "Weally, I _cawn't_ saythat----"

When O'Grady gruffly broke in with, "You'd better ask him, does he loveteetotum. "

"I thought you could recommend me the best establishment in themetropolis, Mr. Furlong, for buying shuttlecocks, " continued the lady, unmindful of the interruption. 

"You had better ask him where you can get mouse-traps, " growledO'Grady. 

Mrs. O'Grady was silent, and O'Grady, whose rage had now assumed itsabsurd form of tagging changes, continued, increasing his growl, like a_crescendo_ on the double-bass, as he proceeded:--"You'd better ask, I think--mouse-traps--steel-traps--clap-traps--rat-traps--rattle-traps--rattle-snakes!"

Furlong stared, Mrs. O'Grady was silent, and the Misses O'Grady castfearful sidelong glances at "Pa, " whose strange irritation alwaysbespoke his not being in what good people call a "sweet state of mind;"he laid hold of a tea-spoon, and began beating a tattoo on themantel-piece to a low smothered whistle of some very obscure tune, whichwas suddenly stopped to say to Furlong, very abruptly--

"So Egan diddled you?"

"Why, he certainly, as I conceive, pwactised, or I might say, inshort--he--a--in fact----"

"Oh, yes, " said O'Grady, cutting short Furlong's humming and hawing;"oh, yes, I know--diddled you. "

Bang went the spoon again, keeping time with another string of nonsense. "Diddled you--diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumpedover the moon--who was there?"

"A Mister Dawson. "

"Phew!" ejaculated O'Grady with a doleful whistle; "Dick the devil! Youare in nice hands! All up with us--up with us--

 Up, up, up, And here we go down, down, down, down, derry down!

Oh, murther!" and the spoon went faster than before. "Any one else?"

"Mister Bermingham. "

"Bermingham!" exclaimed O'Grady. 

"A cle'gyman, I think, " drawled Furlong. 

"Bermingham!" reiterated O'Grady. "What business has he there, andbe ----!" O'Grady swallowed a curse when he remembered he was aclergyman. "The enemy's camp--not his principles! Oh, Bermingham, Bermingham, --B_rim_magem, B_rum_magem, Sheffield, Wolverhampton--Murther!Any one else? Was Durfy there?"

"No, " said Furlong; "but there was an odd pe'son, whose name wymes tohis--as you seem fond of wymes, Mister O'Gwady. "

"What!" said O'Grady, quickly, and fixing his eyes on Furlong;"Murphy?"

"Yes. Miste' Muffy. "

O'Grady gave a more doleful whistle than before, and banging the spoonfaster than ever, exclaimed again, "Murphy!--then I'll tell you what itis; do you see that?" and he held up the spoon before Furlong, who, being asked the same question several times, confessed he _did_ see thespoon. "Then I'll tell you what it is, " said O'Grady again, "I wouldn'tgive you _that_ for the election;" and, with a disdainful jerk, he threwthe spoon into the fire, after which he threw himself back in his chairwith an appearance of repose, while he glanced fiercely up at theceiling, and indulged in a _very_ low whistle indeed. One of the girlsstole softly round to the fire and gently took up the tongs to recoverthe spoon; it made a slight rattle, and her father turned smartly round, and said, "Can't you let the fire alone?--there's coal enough on it; thedevil burn 'em all--Egan, Murphy, and all o' them! What do you standthere for, with the tongs in your hands, like a hairdresser, or a stuckpig? I tell you, I'm as hot as a lime-kiln; go out o' that. "

The daughter retired, and the spoon was left to its fate; the ladies didnot dare to utter a word; O'Grady continued his gaze on the ceiling andhis whistle; and Furlong, very uncomfortable and much more astonished, after sitting in silence for some time, thought a retreat the best movehe could make, and intimated his wish to retire. 

Mrs. O'Grady gently suggested it was yet early; which Furlongacknowledged, but pleaded his extreme fatigue after a day of greatexertion. 

"I suppose you were canvassing, " said O'Grady, with a wicked grin. 

"Ce'tainly not; they could sca'cely pwesume on such a thing as that, Ishould think, in _my_ pwesence. "

"Then what fatigued you?--eh?"

"Salmon-fishing, sir. "

"What!" exclaimed O'Grady, opening his fierce eyes, and turning suddenlyround. "Salmon-fishing! Where the d----l were you salmon-fishing?"

"In the wiver, close by here. "

The ladies now all stared; but Furlong advanced a vehement assurance, in answer to their looks of wonder, that he had taken some very finesalmon indeed. 

The girls could not suppress their laughter; and O'Grady, casting alook of mingled rage and contempt on the fisherman, merely uttered theejaculation, "Oh, Moses!" and threw himself back in his chair; butstarting up a moment after, he rang the bell violently. "What do youwant, my dear?" said his poor wife, venturing to lift her eyes, andspeaking in the humblest tone--"what do you want?"

"Some broiled bones!" said O'Grady, very much like an ogre; "I wantsomething to settle my stomach after what I've heard, for, by thepowers of ipecacuanha, 't is enough to make a horse sick--sick, by thepowers!--shivering all over like a dog in a wet sack. I must havebroiled bones and hot punch!"

The servant entered, and O'Grady swore at him for not coming sooner, though he was really expeditious in his answer to the bell. 

"Confound your lazy bones; you're never in time. "

"'Deed, sir; I came the minit I heerd the bell. "

"Hold your tongue!--who bid you talk? The devil fly away with you!--andyou'll never go fast till he does. Make haste now--go to the cook----"

"Yes, sir. "

"Curse you! can't you wait till you get your message? Go to the devilwith you!--get some broiled bones--hot water and tumblers--don't forgetthe whisky--and pepper them well. Mind, hot--everything hot--screechinghot. Be off, now, and make haste--mind, make haste!"

"Yes, sir, " said the servant, whipping out of the room with celerity, and thanking Heaven when he had the door between him and his savagemaster. When he got to the kitchen, he told the cook to make haste, ifever she made haste in her life, "for there's owld Danger up-stairs inthe divil's temper, God bless us!" said Mick. 

"Faix, he's always that, " said the cook, scurrying across the kitchenfor the gridiron. 

"Oh! but he's beyant all to-night, " said Mick; "I think he'll murtherthat chap up-stairs before he stops. "

"Oh, wirra! wirra!" cried the cook; "there's the fire not bright, badluck to it, and he wantin' a brile!"

"Bright or not bright, " said Mick, "make haste I'd advise you, or he'llhave your life. "

The bell rang violently. 

"There, do you hear him tattherin'?" said Mick, rushing up-stairs. 

"I thought it was tay they wor takin', " said Larry Hogan, who wassitting in the chimney-corner, smoking. 

"So they are, " said the cook. 

"Then I suppose, briled bones is genteel with tay?" said Larry. 

"Oh, no; it's not for tay, at all, they want them; it's only ould Dangerhimself. Whenever he's in a rage, he ates briled bones. "

"'Faith, they are a brave cure for anger, " said Larry; "I wouldn't beangry myself, if I had one. "

Down rushed Mick, to hurry the cook--bang, twang! went the bell as hespoke. "Oh, listen to him!" said Mick: "for the tendher mercy o' Heaven, make haste!"

The cook transferred the bones from the gridiron to a hot dish. 

"Oh, murther, but they're smoked!" said Mick. 

"No matther, " said the cook, shaking her red elbow furiously; "I'llsmother the smoke with the pepper--there!--give them a good dab o'musthard now, and sarve them hot!"

Away rushed Mick, as the bell was rattled into fits again. 

While the cook had been broiling bones for O'Grady below, he had beengrilling Furlong for himself above. In one of the pauses of the storm, the victim ventured to suggest to his tormentor that all the mischiefthat had arisen might have been avoided, if O'Grady had met him at thevillage, as he requested of him in one of his letters. O'Grady deniedall knowledge of such a request, and after some queries about certainportions of the letter, it became manifest it had miscarried. 

"There!" said O'Grady; "there's a second letter astray; I'm certain theyput my letters astray on purpose. There's a plot in the post-officeagainst me; by this and that, I'll have an inquiry. I wish all thepost-offices in the world were blown up; and all the postmasters hanged, postmaster-general and all--I do--by the 'ternal war, I do--and all themail coaches in the world ground to powder, and the roads they go oninto the bargain--devil a use in them but to carry bad news over theuniverse--for all the letters with any good in them are lost; and ifthere's a money enclosure in one, that's sure to be robbed. Blow thepost-office, I say--blow it, and sink it!"

It was at this moment Mick entered with the broiled bones, and while hewas in the room, placing glasses on the table, and making the necessaryarrangements for making "screeching hot punch, " he heard O'Grady andFurlong talking about the two lost letters. 

On his descent to the kitchen, the cook was spreading a bit of supperthere, in which Andy was to join, he having just completed someapplications of brown paper and vinegar to the bruises received in hisfall. Larry Hogan, too, was invited to share in the repast; and it wasnot the first time, by many, that Larry quartered on the Squire. Indeed, many a good larder was opened to Larry Hogan; he held a very deepinterest in the regards of all the female domestics over the country, not on the strength of his personal charms, for Larry had a hanging lip, a snub nose, a low forehead, a large ugly head, whose scrubby grizzledhair grew round the crown somewhat in the form of a priest's tonsure. Not on the strength of his gallantry, for Larry was always talkingmorality and making sage reflections, while he supplied the womankindwith bits of lace, rolls of ribbon, and now and then silk stockings. Healways had some plausible story of how they happened to come in his way, for Larry was not a regular pedlar; carrying no box, he drew his chancetreasures from the recesses of very deep pockets contrived in variousparts of his attire. No one asked Larry how he came by such a continuedsupply of natty articles, and if they had, Larry would not have toldthem; for he was a very "close" man, as well as a "civil-spoken, " underwhich character he was first introduced to the reader on the memorablenight of Andy's destructive adventure in his mother's cabin. Larry Hoganwas about as shrewd a fellow as any in the whole country, and while noone could exactly make out what _he_ was, or how he made the two ends ofhis year meet, he knew nearly as much of every one's affairs as they didthemselves; in the phrase of the country, he was "as 'cute as a fox, asclose as wax, and as deep as a draw-well. "

The supper-party sat down in the kitchen, and between every threemouthfuls poor Mick could get, he was obliged to canter up-stairs atthe call of the fiercely rung bell. Ever and anon, as he returned, hebolted his allowance with an ejaculation, sometimes pious, sometimesthe reverse, on the hard fate of attending such a "born devil, " as hecalled the Squire. 

"Why he's worse nor ever, to-night, " says the cook. "What ails him atall--what is it all about?"

"Oh, he's blackguardin' and blastin' away about that quareslink-lookin' chap, up-stairs, goin' to Squire Egan's instead of comin'here. "

"That was a bit o' your handy work, " said Larry, with a grim smile atAndy. 

"And then, " said Mick, "he's swearin' by all the murthers in the worldagen the whole counthry, about some letthers was stole out of thepost-office by somebody. "

Andy's hand was in the act of raising a mouthful to his lips, whenthese words were uttered; his hand fell, and his mouth remained open. Larry Hogan had his eye on him at the moment. 

"He swares he'll have some one in the body o' the jail, " said Mick;"and he'll never stop till he sees them swing. "

Andy thought of the effigy on the wall, and his dream, and grew pale. 

"By the hokey, " said Mick, "I never see him in sitch a tattherin'rage!"--bang went the bell again--"Ow, ow!" cried Mick, bolting a pieceof fat bacon, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his livery, and runningup-stairs. 

"Misses Cook, ma'am, " said Andy, shoving back his chair from the table;"thank you, ma'am, for your good supper. I think I'll be goin' now. "

"Sure, you're not done yet, man alive. "

"Enough is as good as a feast, ma'am, " replied Andy. 

"Augh! sure the morsel you took is more like a fast than a feast, " saidthe cook, "and it's not Lent. "

"It's not lent, sure enough, " said Larry Hogan, with a sly grin; "it'snot _lent_, for you _gave_ it to him. "

"Ah, Misther Hogan, you're always goin' on with your conundherums, "said the cook; "sure, that's not the lent I mane at all--I mane GoodFriday Lent. "

"Faix, every Friday is good Friday that a man gets his supper, " saidLarry. 

"Well, you _will_ be goin' on, Misther Hogan, " said the cook. "Oh, but you're a witty man; but I'd rather have a yard of your lace, anyday, than a mile o' your discourse. "

"Sure, you ought not to mind my goin' _on_, when you're lettin'another man go _off_, that-a-way, " said Larry, pointing to Andy, who, hat in hand, was quitting the kitchen. 

"Faix an' he mustn't go, " said the cook; "there's two words to thatbargain;" and she closed the door, and put her back against it. 

"My mother's expectin' me, ma'am, " said Andy. 

"Throth, if 't was your wife was expectin' you, she must wait a bit, "said the cook; "sure you wouldn't leave the thirsty curse on mykitchen?--you must take a dhrop before you go; besides the dogs outsidethe place would ate you onless there was some one they knew along widyou: and sure, if a dog bit you, you couldn't dhrink wather afther, letalone a dhrop o' beer, or a thrifle o' sper'ts: isn't that thrue, Misther Hogan?"

"Indeed an' it is, ma'am, " answered Larry; "no one can dhrink afther adog bites them, and that's the rayson that the larn'd fackleties callsthe disaise high-_dhry_----"

"High-dhry what?" asked the cook. 

"That's what I'm thinkin' of, " said Larry. "High-dhry--high-dhry--something. "

"There's high-dhry snuff, " said the cook. 

"Oh, no--no, no, ma'am!" said Larry, waving his hand and shaking hishead, as if unwilling to be interrupted in endeavouring to recall

 "Some fleeting remembrance;"

"high-dhry--po--po--something about po; 'faith, it's not unlikepopery, " said Larry. 

"Don't say popery, " cried the cook; "it's a dirty word! Say RomanCatholic when you spake of the faith. "

"Do you think _I_ would undhervalue the faith?" said Larry, casting uphis eyes. "Oh, Missis Mulligan, you know little of me; d' you think Iwould undhervalue what is my hope, past, present, and to come?--_what_makes our hearts light when our lot is heavy?--_what_ makes us love ourneighbour as ourselves?"

"Indeed, Misther Hogan, " broke in the cook, "I never knew any onefonder of calling in on a neighbour than yourself, particularly aboutdinner-time----"

"What makes us, " said Larry, who would _not_ let the cookinterrupt his outpouring of pious eloquence--"what makes us fierce inprosperity to our friends, and meek in adversity to our inimies?"

"Oh! Misther Hogan!" said the cook, blessing herself. 

"What puts the leg undher you when you are in throuble? why, yourfaith: what makes you below desait, and above reproach, and on neitherside of nothin'?" Larry slapped the table like a prime minister, andthere was no opposition. "Oh, Missis Mulligan, do you think I woulddesaive or bethray my fellow-crayture? Oh, no--I would not wrong thechild unborn, "--and this favourite phrase of Larry (and other rascals)was, and is, unconsciously, true; for people, most generally, must beborn before they _can_ be much wronged. 

"Oh, Missis Mulligan, " said Larry, with a devotional appeal of his eyesto the ceiling, "be at war with sin, and you'll be at paice withyourself!"

Just as Larry wound up his pious peroration, Mick shoved in the door, against which the cook supported herself, and told Andy the Squire saidhe should not leave the Hall that night. 

Andy looked aghast. 

Again Larry Hogan's eye was on him. 

"Sure I can come back here in the mornin', " said Andy, who at themoment he spoke was conscious of the intention of being some fortymiles out of the place before dawn, if he could get away. 

"When the Squire says a thing, it must be done, " said Mick. "You mustsleep here. "

"And pleasant dhrames to you, " said Larry, who saw Andy wince under hiskindly worded stab. 

"And where must I sleep?" asked Andy, dolefully. 

"Out in the big loft, " said Mick. 

"I'll show you the way, " said Larry; "I'm goin' to sleep there myselfto-night, for it would be too far to go home. Good night, Mrs. Mulligan--good night, Mickey--come along, Andy. "

Andy followed Hogan. They had to cross a yard to reach the stables; thenight was clear, and the waning moon shed a steady though not a brightlight on the enclosure. Hogan cast a lynx eye around him to see if thecoast was clear, and satisfying himself it was, he laid his handimpressively on Andy's arm as they reached the middle of the yard, andsetting Andy's face right against the moonlight, so that he might watchthe slightest expression, he paused for a moment before he spoke; andwhen he spoke, it was in a low mysterious whisper--low, as if he fearedthe night breeze might betray it, --and the words were few, but potent, which he uttered; they were these--"_Who robbed the post-office?_"

The result quite satisfied Hogan; and he knew how to turn his knowledgeto account. O'Grady and Egan were no longer friends; a political contestwas pending; letters were missing; Andy had been Egan's servant; andLarry Hogan had enough of that mental chemical power, which, from a fewraw facts, unimportant separately, could make a combination of greatvalue. 

Soon after breakfast at Merryvale the following morning, Mrs. Eganwanted to see the Squire. She went to his sitting-room--it was bolted. He told her, from the inside, he was engaged just then, but would seeher by-and-by. She retired to the drawing-room, where Fanny was singing. "Oh, Fanny, " said her sister, "sing me that dear new song of 'TheVoices, ' 't is so sweet, and must be felt by those who, like me, have ahappy home. "

Fanny struck a few notes of a wild and peculiar symphony, and sang hersister's favourite. 

 THE VOICE WITHIN

 I

 You ask the dearest place on earth, Whose simple joys can never die; 'T is the holy pale of the happy hearth, Where love doth light each beaming eye. With snowy shroud Let tempests loud Around my old tower raise their din;-- What boots the shout Of storms without, While voices sweet resound within? O dearer sound For the tempests round, The voices sweet within!

 II

 I ask not wealth, I ask not power; But, gracious Heaven, oh grant to me That, when the storms of Fate may lower, My heart just like my home may be! When in the gale Poor Hope's white sail No haven can for shelter win, Fate's darkest skies The heart defies Whose still small voice is sweet within O, heavenly sound, 'Mid the tempests round, That voice so sweet within!

Egan had entered as Fanny was singing the second verse; he wore atroubled air, which his wife at first did not remark. "Is not that asweet song, Edward?" said she. "No one ought to like it more than you, for your home is your happiness, and no one has a clearer conscience. "

Egan kissed her gently, and thanked her for her good opinion, and askedher what she wished to say to him. They left the room. 

Fanny remarked Egan's unusually troubled air, and it marred her music;leaving the piano, and walking to the window, she saw Larry Hoganwalking from the house, down the avenue. 

CHAPTER XV

If the morning brought uneasiness and distrust to Merryvale, it dawnednot more brightly on Neck-or-Nothing Hall. The discord of the formernight was not preparatory to harmony on the morrow, and the partiesseparating in ill-humour from the drawing-room were not likely to lookforward with much pleasure to the breakfast-parlour. But beforebreakfast sleep was to intervene--that is, for those who could getit--and the unfortunate Furlong was not amongst the number. Despite thevery best feather bed Mrs. O'Grady had selected for him from amongst hertreasures, it was long before slumber weighed down his feverish eyelids;and even then, it was only to have them opened again in some convulsivestart of a troubled dream. All his adventures of the last four-and-twentyhours were jumbled together in strange confusion--now on a lonely road, while dreading the assaults of robbers, his course was interrupted notby a highwayman, but a river, whereon embarking, he began to catchsalmon in a most surprisingly rapid manner, but just as he was about tohaul in his fish it escaped from the hook, and the salmon, making wryfaces at him, very impertinently exclaimed, "Sure, you wouldn't catch apoor, ignorant, Irish salmon?" He then snapped his pistols at theinsolent fish--then his carriage breaks down, and he is suddenlytransferred from the river to the road; thieves seize upon him and bindhis hands, but a charming young lady with pearly teeth frees him fromhis bonds, and conducts him to a castle where a party is engaged inplaying cards; he is invited to join, and as his cards are dealt to himhe anticipates triumph in the game, but by some malicious fortune histrumps are transformed into things of no value, as they touch the board;he loses his money, and is kicked out when his purse has been emptied, and he escapes along a dark road pursued by his spoilers, who would takehis life, and a horrid cry of "broiled bones, " rings in his ears as heflies; he is seized and thrown into a river, where, as he sinks, shoalsof salmon raise a chorus of rejoicing, and he wakes out of the agoniesof dream-drowning to find himself nearly suffocated by sinking into thefeathery depths of Mrs. O'Grady's pet bed. After a night passed in suchtroubled visions the unfortunate Furlong awoke unrefreshed, and, withbitter recollections of the past and mournful anticipations of thefuture, arose and prepared to descend to the parlour, where a servanttold him breakfast was ready. 

His morning greeting by the family was not of that hearty and cheerfulcharacter which generally distinguishes the house of an Irish squire;for though O'Grady was not so savage as on the preceding evening, hewas rather gruff, and the ladies dreaded being agreeable when themaster's temper blew from a stormy point. Furlong could not helpregretting at this moment the lively breakfast-table at Merryvale, nor avoid contrasting to disadvantage the two Miss O'Gradys withFanny Dawson. Augusta, the eldest, inherited the prominent nose ofher father, and something of his upper lip too, beard included; and these, unfortunately, were all she was ever likely to inherit from him; andCharlotte, the younger, had the same traits in a moderated degree. Altogether, he thought the girls the plainest he had ever seen, and thehouse more horrible than anything that was ever imagined; and he sigheda faint fashionable sigh, to think his political duties had expelled himfrom a paradise to send him

 "The other way--the other way!"

Four boys and a little girl sat at a side-table, where a capacious jugof milk, large bowls, and a lusty loaf were laid under contributionamidst a suppressed but continuous wrangle, which was going forwardamongst the juniors; and a snappish "I will" or "I won't, " a "Let mealone" or a "Behave yourself, " occasionally was distinguishable abovethe murmur of dissatisfaction. A little squall from the little girl atlast made O'Grady turn round and swear that, if they did not_behave_ themselves, he'd turn them all out. 

"It is all Goggy, sir, " said the girl. 

"No, it's not, you dirty little thing, " cried George, whose name wasthus euphoniously abbreviated. 

"He's putting----" said the girl, with excitement. 

"Ah, you dirty little----" interrupted Goggy, in a low, contemptuoustone. 

"He's putting, sir----"

"Whisht! you young devils, will you?" cried O'Grady, and a momentarysilence prevailed; but the little girl snivelled and put up her bib[14]to wipe her eyes, while Goggy put out his tongue at her. Many minuteshad not elapsed when the girl again whimpered--

 [14] Pinafore. 

"Call to Goggy, papa; he's putting some mouse's tails into my milk, sir. "

"Ah, you dirty little tell-tale!" cried Goggy, reproachfully; "atell-tale is worse than a mouse's tail. "

O'Grady jumped up, gave Master Goggy a box on the ear, and then caughthim by the aforesaid appendage to his head, and as he led him to thedoor by the same, Goggy bellowed lustily, and when ejected from the roomhowled down the passage more like a dog than a human being. O'Grady, onresuming his seat, told Polshee[15] (the little girl) she was alwaysgetting Goggy a beating, and she _was_ a little cantankerous cat and adirty tell-tale, as Goggy said. Amongst the ladies and Furlong thebreakfast went forward with coldness and constraint, and all were gladwhen it was nearly over. At this period, Mrs. O'Grady half filled alarge bowl from the tea-urn, and then added to it some weak tea, andMiss O'Grady collected all the broken bread about the table on a plate. Just then Furlong ventured to "twouble" Mrs. O'Grady for a _leetle_ moretea, and before he handed her his cup he would have emptied the sedimentin the slop-basin, but by mistake he popped it into the large bowl of_miserable_ Mrs. O'Grady had prepared. Furlong begged a thousandpardons, but Mrs. O'Grady assured him it was of no consequence, _as itwas only for the tutor_!

 [15] Mary. 

O'Grady, having swallowed his breakfast as fast as possible, left theroom; the whole party soon followed, and on arriving in thedrawing-room, the young ladies became more agreeable when no longerunder the constraint of their ogre father. Furlong talked slip-slopcommon-places with them; they spoke of the country and the weather, andhe of the city; they assured him that the dews were heavy in theevening, and that the grass was _so_ green in that part of the country;he obliged them with the interesting information, that the Liffy ranthrough Dublin, but that the two sides of the city communicated by meansof bridges--that the houses were built of red brick generally, and thatthe hall-doors were painted in imitation of mahogany; to which the youngladies responded, "La, how odd!" and added, that in the country peoplemostly painted their hall-doors green, to match the grass. Furlongadmitted the propriety of the proceeding, and said he liked uniformity. The young ladies quite coincided in his opinion, declared they all wereso fond of uniformity, and added that one of their carriage horses wasblind. Furlong admitted the excellence of the observation, and said, ina very soft voice, that Love was blind also. 

"Exactly, " said Miss O'Grady, "and that's the reason we call our horse'Cupid'!"

"How clever!" replied Furlong. 

"And the mare that goes in harness with him--she's an ugly creature, tobe sure, but we call her 'Venus. '"

"How dwoll!" said Furlong. 

"That's for uniformity, " said Miss O'Grady. 

"How good!" was the rejoinder. 

Mrs. O'Grady, who had left the room for a few minutes, now returned andtold Furlong she would show him over the house if he pleased. Heassented, of course, and under her guidance went through manyapartments; those on the basement story were hurried through rapidly, but when Mrs. O'Grady got him upstairs, amongst the bed-rooms, she dwelton the excellence of every apartment. "This I need not show you, Mr. Furlong--'t is your own; I hope you slept well last night?" This was thetwentieth time the question had been asked. "Now, here is another, Mr. Furlong; the window looks out on the lawn: so nice to look out on alawn, I think, in the morning, when one gets up!--so refreshing andwholesome! Oh! you are looking at the stain in the ceiling, but wecouldn't get the roof repaired in time before the winter set in lastyear; and Mr. O'Grady thought we might as well have the painters andslaters together in the summer--and the house does want paint, indeed, but we all hate the smell of paint. See here, Mr. Furlong, " and sheturned up a quilt as she spoke; "just put your hand into that bed; didyou ever feel a finer bed?"

Furlong declared he never did. 

"Oh, you don't know how to feel a bed!--put your hand into it--well, that way;" and Mrs. O'Grady plunged her arm up to the elbow into theobject of her admiration. Furlong poked the bed, and was alllaudation. 

"Isn't it beautiful?"

"Cha'ming!" replied Furlong, trying to pick off the bits of down whichclung to his coat. 

"Oh, never mind the down--you shall be brushed after; I always show mybeds, Mr. Furlong. Now, here's another;" and so she went on, draggingpoor Furlong up and down the house, and he did not get out of herclutches till he had poked all the beds in the establishment. As soon asthat ceremony was over, and that his coat had undergone the process ofbrushing, he wished to take a stroll, and was going forth, when Mrs. O'Grady interrupted him, with the assurance that it would not be safeunless some one of the family became his escort, for the dogs were veryfierce--Mr. O'Grady was _so_ fond of dogs, and _so_ proud of aparticular breed of dogs he had, so remarkable for their courage--hehad better wait till the boys had done their Latin lesson. So Furlongwas marched back to the drawing-room. 

There the younger daughter addressed him with a message from hergrandmamma, who wished to have the pleasure of making his acquaintance, and hoped he would pay her a visit. Furlong, of course, was "quitedelighted, " and "too happy, " and the young lady, thereupon, led him tothe old lady's apartment. 

The old dowager had been a beauty in her youth--one of the belles ofthe Irish court, and when she heard "a gentleman from Dublin Castle"was in the house she desired to see him. To see any one from the seatof her juvenile joys and triumphs would have given her delight, were itonly the coachman that had driven a carriage to a levee or drawing-room;she could ask him about the sentinels at the gate, the entrance-porch, and if the long range of windows yet glittered with lights on St. Patrick's night; but to have a conversation with an official from thatseat of government and courtly pleasure was, indeed, something to makeher happy. 

On Furlong being introduced, the old lady received him very courteously, at the same time with a certain air that betokened she was accustomed todeference. Her commanding figure was habited in a loose morning wrapper, made of grey flannel; but while this gave evidence she studied herpersonal comfort rather than appearance, a bit of pretty silkhandkerchief about the neck, very knowingly displayed, and a becomingribbon in her cap showed she did not quite neglect her good looks; itdid not require a very quick eye to see, besides, a small touch of rougeon the cheek which age had depressed, and the assistance of Indian inkto the eyebrow which time had thinned and faded. A glass filled withflowers stood on the table before her, and a quantity of books layscattered about; a guitar--not the Spanish instrument now in fashion, but the English one of some eighty years ago, strung with wire and tunedin thirds--hung by a _blue ribbon_ beside her; a corner cupboard, fantastically carved, bore some curious specimens of china on one sideof the room; while, in strange discord with what was really scarce andbeautiful, the commonest Dutch cuckoo-clock was suspended on theopposite wall; close beside her chair stood a very pretty little Japantable, bearing a looking-glass with numerous drawers framed in the samematerial; and while Furlong seated himself, the old lady cast a sidelongglance at the mirror, and her withered fingers played with the freshribbon. 

"You have recently arrived from the Castle, sir, I understand. "

"Quite wecently, madam--awived last night. "

"I hope his Excellency is well--not that I have the honour of hisacquaintance, but I love the Lord Lieutenant--and the aides-de-campsare so nice, and the little pages!--put a marker in that book, " saidshe, in an under-tone, to her granddaughter, "page seventy-four--ah, "she resumed in a higher tone, "that reminds me of the HonourableCaptain Wriggle, who commanded a seventy-four, and danced with me atthe Castle the evening Lady Legge sprained her ankle. By-the-bye, arethere any seventy-fours in Dublin now?"

"I wather think, " said Furlong, "the bay is not sufficiently deep forline-of-battle ships. "

"Oh dear, yes! I have seen quantities of seventy-fours there; though, indeed, I am not quite sure if it wasn't at _Splithead_. Give me thesmelling salts, Charlotte, love; mine does ache indeed! How subject thedear Duchess of Rutland was to headaches; you did not know the Duchessof Rutland?--no, to be sure, what am I thinking of? you're too young;but those were the charming days! You have heard, of course, theduchess's _bon mot_ in reply to the compliment of Lord ----, but I mustnot mention his name, because there was some scandal about them; but thegentleman said to the duchess--I must tell you she was Isabella, Duchessof Rutland--and he said, 'Isabelle _is_ a _belle_, ' to which the duchessreplied, 'Isabelle _was_ a _belle_. '"

"Vewy neat, indeed!" said Furlong. 

"Ah! poor thing, " said the dowager, with a sigh, "she was beginning tobe a little _passée_ then;" she looked in the glass herself, and added, "Dear me, how pale I am this morning!" and pulling out one of the littledrawers from the Japan looking-glass, she took out a pot of rouge andheightened the colour on her cheek. The old lady not only heightened herown colour, but that of the witnesses--of Furlong particularly, who was_quite_ surprised. "Why am I so very pale this morning, Charlotte love?"continued the old lady. 

"You sit up so late reading, grandmamma. "

"Ah, who can resist the fascination of the muses? You are fond ofliterature, I hope, sir?"

"Extwemely, " replied Furlong. 

"As a statesman, " continued the old lady--to whom Furlong made a deepobeisance at the word "statesman"--"as a statesman, of course yourreading lies in the more solid department; but if you ever _do_condescend to read a romance, there is the sweetest thing I ever met Iam just now engaged in; it is called 'The Blue Robber of the PinkMountain. ' I have not come to the pink mountain yet, but the blue robberis the most perfect character. The author, however, is guilty of astrange forgetfulness; he begins by speaking of the robber as of themiddle age, and soon after describes him as a young man. Now, how coulda young man be of the middle age?"

"It seems a stwange inaccuwacy, " lisped Furlong. "But poets sometimespwesume on the pwivelege they have of doing what they please with theirhewoes. "

"Quite true, sir. And talking of heroes, I hope the Knights of St. Patrick are well--I do admire them so much!--'t is so interesting to seetheir banners and helmets hanging up in St. Patrick's Cathedral, thatvenerable pile!--with the loud peal of the organ--sublime--isn'tit?--the banners almost tremble in the vibration of the air to the loudswell of the 'A-a-a-men!'--the very banners seem to wave 'Amen!' Oh, that swell is so fine!--I think they are fond of swells in the choir;they have a good effect, and some of the young men are so goodlooking!--and the little boys, too--I suppose they are choristers'children?"

The old lady made a halt, and Furlong filled up the pause by declaring, "He weally couldn't say. "

"I hope you admire the service at St. Patrick's?" continued the oldlady. 

"Ye-s, I think St. Paytwick's a vewy amusing place of wo'ship. "

"Amusing, " said the old lady, half offended. "Inspiring, you mean; notthat I think the sermon interesting, but the anthem!--oh, the anthem, it is so fine!--and the old banners, those are my delight--the dearbanners covered with dust!"

"Oh, as far as that goes, " said Furlong, "they have impwoved thecathedwal vewy much, fo' they white-washed it inside, and put up_noo_ banners. "

"Whitewash and new banners!" exclaimed the indignant dowager; "theGoths! to remove an atom of the romantic dust! I would not have let ahouse-maid into the place for the world! But they have left the anthem, I hope?"

"Oh, yes; the anthem is continued, but with a small diffewence:--theyused to sing the anthem befo' the se'mon, but the people used to goaway afte' the anthem and neve' waited fo' the se'mon, and the bishop, who is pwoud of his pweaching, orde'ed the anthem to be postponed tillafte' the se'mon. "

"Oh, yes, " said the old lady, "I remember, now, hearing of that, andsome of the wags in Dublin saying the bishop was jealous of oldSpray;[16] and didn't somebody write something called 'Pulpit versusOrganloft'?"

 [16] One of the finest tenors of the last century. 

"I cawn't say. "

"Well, I am glad you like the cathedral, sir; but I wish they had notdusted the banners; I used to look at them all the time the servicewent on--they were so romantic! I suppose you go there every Sunday?"

"I go in the summe', " said Furlong; "the place is _so_ cold in thewinte'. "

"That's true indeed, " responded the Dowager, "and it's quite funny, when your teeth are chattering with cold, to hear Spray singing, 'Comfort ye, my people;' but, to be sure, _that_ is almost enoughto warm you. You are fond of music, I perceive?"

"Vewy!"

"_I_ play the guitar--(citra--cithra--or lute, as it is called bypoets). I sometimes sing, too. Do you know 'The lass with the delicateair'? a sweet ballad of the old school--my instrument once belonged toDolly Bland, the celebrated Mrs. Jordan now--ah, there, sir, is abrilliant specimen of Irish mirthfulness--what a creature she is! Handme my lute, child, " she said to her granddaughter; and having adjustedthe blue ribbon over her shoulder, and twisted the tuning-pegs, andthrummed upon the wires for some time, she made a prelude and clearedher throat to sing "The lass with the delicate air, " when the loudwhirring of the clock-wheels interrupted her, and she looked up withgreat delight at a little door in the top of the clock, which suddenlysprang open, and out popped a wooden bird. 

"Listen to my bird, sir, " said the old lady. 

The sound of "cuckoo" was repeated twelve times, the bird popped inagain, the little door closed, and the monotonous tick of the clockcontinued. 

"That's my little bird, sir, that tells me secrets; and now, sir, youmust leave me; I never receive visits after twelve. I can't sing you'The lass with the delicate air' to-day, for who would compete with thefeathered songsters of the grove? and after my sweet little warbler upthere, I dare not venture: but I will sing it for you to-morrow. Goodmorning, sir. I am happy to have had the honour of making youracquaintance. " She bowed Furlong out very politely, and as hergranddaughter was following, she said, "My love, you must not forgetsome seeds for my little bird. " Furlong looked _rather_ surprised, forhe saw no bird but the one in the clock; the young lady marked hisexpression, and as she closed the door she said, "You must not mindgrandmamma; you know she is sometimes a little queer. "

Furlong was now handed over to the boys, to show him over the domain;and they, young imps as they were, knowing he was in no favour withtheir father, felt they might treat him as ill as they pleased, andquiz him with impunity. The first portion of Furlong's penanceconsisted in being dragged through dirty stable-yards and out-houses, and shown the various pets of all the parties; dogs, pigeons, rabbits, weasels, et cætera, were paraded, and their qualities expatiated upon, till poor Furlong was quite weary of them, and expressed a desire tosee the domain. Horatio, the second boy, whose name was abbreviated toRatty, told him they must wait for Gusty, who was mending his spear. "We're going to spear for eels, " said the boy; "did you ever spear foreels?"

"I should think not, " said Furlong, with a knowing smile, who suspectedthis was intended to be a second edition of quizzing _à la mode desaumon_. 

"You think I'm joking, " said the boy, "but it's famous sport, I cantell you; but if you're tired of waiting here, come along with me tothe milliner's, and we can wait for Gusty there. "

While following the boy, who jumped along to the tune of a jig he waswhistling, now and then changing the whistle into a song to the sametune, with very odd words indeed, and a burden of gibberish ending with"riddle-diddle-dow, " Furlong wondered what a milliner could have to doin such an establishment, and his wonder was not lessened when hisguide added, "The milliner is a queer chap, and maybe he'll tell ussomething funny. "

"Then the milline' is a man?" said Furlong. 

"Yes, " said the boy, laughing; "and he does not work with needle andthread either. "

They approached a small out-house as he spoke, and the sharp clinkingof a hammer fell on the ear. Shoving open a rickety door, the boycried, "Well, Fogy, I've brought a gentleman to see you. This is Fogy, the milliner, sir, " said he to Furlong, whose surprise was furtherincreased, when, in the person of the man called the milliner, hebeheld a tinker. 

"What a strange pack of people I have got amongst, " thought Furlong. 

The old tinker saw his surprise, and grinned at him. "I suppose it wasa nate young woman you thought you'd see when he towld you he'd bringyou to the milliner--ha! ha! ha! Oh, they're nate lads, the MasterO'Gradys; divil a thing they call by the proper name, at all. "

"Yes, we do, " said the boy, sharply; "we call ourselves by our propername. Ha! Fogy, I have you there. "

"Divil a taste, as smart as you think yourself, Masther Ratty; you callyourselves gentlemen, and that's not your proper name. "

Ratty, who was scraping triangles on the door with a piece of brokenbrick, at once converted his pencil into a missile, and let fly at thehead of the tinker, who seemed quite prepared for such a result, for, raising the kettle he was mending, he caught the shot adroitly, and thebrick rattled harmlessly on the tin. 

"Ha!" said the tinker, mockingly, "you missed me, like your mammy'sblessin';" and he pursued his work. 

"What a very odd name he calls you, " said Furlong, addressing youngO'Grady. 

"Ratty, " said the boy. "Oh, yes, they call me Ratty, short for Horatio. I was called Horatio after Lord Nelson, because Lord Nelson's fatherwas a clergyman, and papa intends me for the Church. "

"And a nate clargy you'll make, " said the tinker. 

"And why do they call you milline'?" inquired Furlong. The old manlooked up and grinned, but said nothing. 

"You'll know before long, I'll engage, " said Ratty; "won't he, Fogy?You were with old Gran' to-day, weren't you?"

"Yes. "

"Did she sing to you 'The lass with the delicate air'?" said the boy, putting himself in the attitude of a person playing the guitar, throwing up his eyes, and mimicking the voice of an old woman--

 "So they call'd her, they call'd her, The lass--the lass With a delicate air, De--lick-it--lick-it--lick-it The lass with a de--lick-it air. "

The young rascal made frightful mouths, and put out his tongue everytime he said "lick-it, " and when he had finished, asked Furlong, "Wasn'tthat the thing?" Furlong told him his grandmamma had been going to singit, but this pleasure had been deferred till to-morrow. 

"Then you did not hear it?" said Ratty. 

Furlong answered in the negative. 

"Och! murder! murder! I'm sorry I told you. "

"Is it so _vewy_ pa'ticula', then?" inquired Furlong. 

"Oh, you'll find out that, and more too, if you live long enough, " wasthe answer. Then turning to the tinker, he said, "Have you any millinerwork in hand, Fogy?"

"To be sure I have, " answered the tinker; "who has so good a right toknow that as yourself? Throth, you've little to do, I'm thinkin', whenyou ax that idle question. Oh, you're nate lads! And would nothin' sarveyou but brakin' the weathercock?"

"Oh, 't was such a nice cock-shot; 't was impossible not to have a shyat it, " said Ratty, chuckling. 

"Oh, you're nice lads!" still chimed in the tinker. 

"Besides, " said Ratty, "Gusty bet me a bull-dog pup against a rabbit, Icould not smash it in three goes. "

"Faix, an' he ought to know you betther than that, " said the tinker;"for you'd make a fair offer[17] at anything, I think, but an answer toyour schoolmasther. Oh, a nate lad you are--a nate lad!--a nice clargyyou'll be, your _rivirence_. Oh, if you hit off the tin commandments asfast as you hit off the tin weathercock, it's a good man you'll be--an'if I never had a headache till then, sure it's happy I'd be!"

 [17] A "fair offer" is a phrase amongst the Irish peasantry, meaning a successful aim. 

"Hold your prate, old Growly, " said Ratty; "and why don't you mend theweathercock?"

"I must mend the kittle first--and a purty kittle you made of it!--andwould nothing sarve you but the best kittle in the house to tie to thedog's tail? Ah, Masther Ratty, you're terrible boys, so yiz are!"

"Hold your prate, you old thief!--why wouldn't we amuse ourselves?"

"And huntin' the poor dog, too. "

"Well, what matter!--he was a strange dog. "

"That makes no differ in the _crulety_. "

"Ah, bother! you old humbug!--who was it blackened the rag-woman'seye?--ha! Fogy--ha! Fogy--dirty Fogy!"

"Go away, Masther Ratty, you're too good, so you are, your rivirince. Faix, I wondher his honour, the Squire, doesn't murdher you sometimes. "

"He would, if he could catch us, " replied Ratty, "but we run too fastfor him, so divil thank him!--and you, too, Fogy, --ha, old Growly! Comealong, Mr. Furlong, here's Gusty;--bad scran to you, Fogy!" and heslammed the door as he quitted the tinker. 

Gustavus, followed by two younger brothers, Theodore and Godfrey (forO'Grady loved high-sounding names in baptism, though they got twistedinto such queer shapes in family use), now led the way over the parktowards the river. Some fine timber they passed occasionally; but theaxe had manifestly been busy, and the wood seemed thinned rather fromnecessity than for improvement; the paths were choked with weeds andfallen leaves, and the rank moss added its evidence of neglect. The boyspointed out anything _they_ thought worthy of observation by the way, such as the best places to find a hare, the most covered approach to theriver to get a shot at wild ducks, or where the best young wood was tobe found from whence to cut a stick. On reaching their point ofdestination, which was where the river was less rapid, and its bankssedgy and thickly grown with flaggers and bulrushes, the sport ofspearing for eels commenced. Gusty first undertook the task, and, aftersome vigorous plunges of his implement into the water, he brought up theprey, wriggling between its barbed prongs. Furlong was amazed, for hethought this, like the salmon-fishing, was intended as a quiz, and, after a few more examples of Gusty's prowess, he undertook the sport; ashort time, however, fatigued his unpractised arm, and he relinquishedthe spear to Theodore, or Tay, as they called him, and Tay shortlybrought up his fish, and thus, one after another, the boys, successfulin their sport, soon made the basket heavy. 

Then, and not till then, they desired Furlong to carry it; he declaredhe had no curiosity whatever in that line, but the boys would not lethim off so easy, and told him the practice there was, that every oneshould take his share in the day's sport, and as he could not catch thefish he should carry it. He attempted a parley, and suggested he wasonly a visitor; but they only laughed at him--said that might be a verygood Dublin joke, but it would not pass in the country. He thenattempted laughingly to decline the honour; but Ratty, turning round toa monstrous dog, which hitherto had followed them, quietly said, "Here!Bloodybones; here! boy! at him, sir!--make him do his work, boy!" Thebristling savage made a low growl, and fixed his eyes on Furlong, whoattempted to remonstrate; but he very soon gave _that_ up, for anotherword from the boys urged the dog to a howl and a crouch, preparatory toa spring, and Furlong made no further resistance, but took up the basketamid the uproarious laughter of the boys, who continued their sport, adding every now and then to the weight of Furlong's load; and wheneverhe lagged behind, they cried out, "Come along, man-Jack!" which was thecomplimentary name they called him by for the rest of the day. Furlongthought spearing for eels worse sport than fishing for salmon, and wasrejoiced when a turn homeward was taken by the party; but his annoyanceswere not yet ended. On their return, their route lay across a plank ofconsiderable length, which spanned a small branch of the river; it hadno central support, and consequently sprang considerably to the foot ofthe passenger, who was afforded no protection from handrail, or even aswinging rope, and this rendered its passage difficult to an unpractisedperson. When Furlong was told to make his way across, he hesitated, and, after many assurances on his part that he could not attempt it, Gustysaid he would lead him over in security, and took his hand for thepurpose; but when he had him just in the centre, he loosed himself fromFurlong's hold, and ran to the opposite side. While Furlong was prayinghim to return, Ratty stole behind him sufficiently far to have purchaseenough on the plank, and began jumping till he made it spring too highfor poor Furlong to hold his footing any longer; so squatting on theplank, he got astride upon it, and held on with his hands, everydescending vibration of the board dipping his dandy boots in the water. 

"Well done, Ratty!" shouted all the boys. 

"Splash him, Tay!" cried Gusty. "Pull away, Goggy. "

The three boys now began pelting large stones into the river closebeside Furlong, splashing him so thoroughly, that he was wringing wetin five minutes. In vain Furlong shouted, "Young gentlemen! younggentlemen!" and, at last, when he threatened to complain to theirfather, they recommenced worse than before, and vowed they'd throwhim into the stream if he did not promise to be silent on the subject;for, to use their own words, if they _were_ beaten, they might as wellduck him at once, and have the "worth of their licking. " At last, acompromise being effected, Furlong stood up to walk off the plank. "Remember, " said Ratty, "you won't tell we hoised[18] you?"

 [18] A vulgarism for "hoisted. "

"I won't indeed, " said Furlong and he got safe to land. 

"But I will!" cried a voice from a neighbouring wood; and Miss O'Gradyappeared, surrounded by a crowd of little pet-dogs. She shook her headin a threatening manner at the offenders, and all the little dogs set upa yelping bark, as if to enforce their mistress's anger. The snappishbarking of the pets was returned by one hoarse bay from "Bloodybones, "which silenced the little dogs, as a broadside from a seventy-four woulddumbfounder a flock of privateers, and the boys returned the sister'sthreat by a universal shout of "Tell-tale!"

"Go home, tell-tale!" they all cried; and with an action equallysimultaneous, they stooped one and all for pebbles, and pelted MissAugusta so vigorously, that she and her dogs were obliged to run forit. 

CHAPTER XVI

Having recounted Furlong's out-door adventures, it is necessary to saysomething of what was passing at Neck-or-Nothing Hall in his absence. 

O'Grady, on leaving the breakfast-table, retired to his justice-room totransact business, a principal feature in which was the examination ofHandy Andy, touching the occurrences of the evening he drove Furlong toMerryvale; for though Andy was clear of the charge for which he had beentaken into custody, namely, the murder of Furlong, O'Grady thought hemight have been a party to some conspiracy to drive the stranger to theenemy's camp, and therefore put him to the question very sharply. Thisexamination he had set his heart upon; and reserving it as a _bonnebouche_, dismissed all preliminary cases in a very off-hand manner, justas men carelessly swallow a few oysters preparatory to dinner. 

As for Andy, when he was summoned to the justice-room, he made sure itwas for the purpose of being charged with robbing the post-office, andcast a sidelong glance at the effigy of the man hanging on the wall, ashe was marched up to the desk where O'Grady sat in magisterial dignity;and, therefore, when he found it was only for driving a gentleman to awrong house all the pother was made, his heart was lightened of a heavyload, and he answered briskly enough. The string of question and replywas certainly an entangled one, and left O'Grady as much puzzled asbefore whether Andy was stupid and innocent, or too knowing to lethimself be caught--and to this opinion he clung at last. In the courseof the inquiry, he found Andy had been in service at Merryvale; andAndy, telling him he knew all about waiting at table, and so forth, andO'Grady being in want of an additional man-servant in the house whilehis honourable guest, Sackville Scatterbrain, should be on a visit withhim, Andy was told he should be taken on trial for a month. Indeed, amonth was as long as most servants could stay in the house--they cameand went as fast as figures in a magic lantern. 

Andy was installed in his new place, and set to work immediatelyscrubbing up extras of all sorts to make the reception of the honourablecandidate for the county as brilliant as possible, not only for thehonour of the house, but to make a favourable impression on the comingguest; for Augusta, the eldest girl, was marriageable, and to herfather's ears "The Honourable Mrs. Sackville Scatterbrain" would havesounded much more agreeably than "Miss O'Grady. "

"Well--who knows?" said O'Grady to his wife; "such things have come topass. Furbish her up, and make her look smart at dinner--he has a goodfortune, and will be a peer one of these days--worth catching. Tell herso. "

Leaving these laconic observations and directions behind him, he setoff to the neighbouring town to meet Scatterbrain, and to make ablow-up at the post-office about the missing letters. This he was themore anxious to do, as the post-office was kept by the brother ofM'Garry, the apothecary; and since O'Grady had been made to pay sodearly for thrashing him, he swore eternal vengeance against the wholefamily. The post-master could give no satisfactory answer to the chargemade against him, and O'Grady threatened a complaint to headquarters, and prophesied the postmaster's dismissal. Satisfied for the presentwith this piece of prospective vengeance, he proceeded to the inn, andawaited the arrival of his guest. 

In the interim, at the Hall, Mrs. O'Grady gave Augusta the necessaryhints, and recommended a short walk to improve her colour; and it wasin the execution of this order that Miss O'Grady's perambulation wascut short by the pelting her sweet brothers gave her. 

The internal bustle of the establishment caught the attention of thedowager, who contrived to become acquainted with its cause, and setabout making herself as fascinating as possible; for though, in theordinary routine of the family affairs, she kept herself generallysecluded in her own apartments, whenever any affair of an interestingnature was pending, nothing could make her refrain from joining anycompany which might be in the house;--nothing;--not even O'Gradyhimself. At such times, too, she became strangely excited, andinvariably executed one piece of farcical absurdity, of which, however, the family contrived to confine the exercise to her own room. It waswearing on her head a tin concern, something like a chimney-cowl, ornamented by a small weathercock, after the fashion of those whichsurmount church-steeples; this, she declared, influenced her healthwonderfully, by indicating the variation of the wind in her stomach, which she maintained to be the grand ruling principle of humanexistence. She would have worn this head-dress in any company, had shebeen permitted, but the terrors of her son had sufficient influence overher to have this laid aside for a more seemly _coiffure_ when sheappeared at dinner or in the drawing-room; but while she yielded reallythrough fear, she affected to be influenced through tenderness to herson's infirmity of temper. 

"It is very absurd, " she would say, "that Gustavus should interferewith my toilette; but, poor fellow, he's very queer, you know, and I_humour_ him. "

This at once explains why Master Ratty called the tinker "themilliner. "

It will not be wondered at that the family carefully excluded the oldlady from the knowledge of any exciting subject; but those who knowwhat a talkative race children and servants are, will not be surprisedthat the dowager sometimes got scent of proceedings which were meant tobe kept secret. The pending election, and the approaching visit of thecandidate, somehow or other, came to her knowledge, and of course sheput on her tin chimney-pot. Thus attired, she sat watching the avenueall day; and when she saw O'Grady return in a handsome travellingcarriage with a stranger, she was quite happy, and began to attireherself in some ancient finery, rather the worse for wear, and whichmight have been interesting to an antiquary. 

The house soon rang with bustle--bells rang, and footsteps rapidlypaced passages, and pattered up and down stairs. Andy was the nimblestat the hall-door at the first summons of the bell; and, in a livery tooshort in the arms and too wide in the shoulders, he bustled here andthere, his anxiety to be useful only putting him in everybody's way, and ending in getting him a hearty cursing from O'Grady. 

The carriage was unpacked, and letter-boxes, parcels, and portmanteausstrewed the hall. Andy was desired to carry the latter to "thegentleman's room, " and, throwing the portmanteau over his shoulder, heran upstairs. It was just after the commotion created by the arrival ofthe _Honourable_ Mr. Scatterbrain that Furlong returned to thehouse, wet and weary. 

He retired to his room to change his clothes, and fancied he was nowsafe from further molestation, with an inward protestation that thenext time the Master O'Gradys caught him in their company, they mightbless themselves; when he heard a loud sound of hustling near his door, and Miss Augusta's voice audibly exclaiming, "Behave yourself, Ratty!--Gusty, let me go!"--when, as the words were uttered, the doorof his room was shoved open, and Miss Augusta thrust in, and the doorlocked outside. 

Furlong had not half his clothes on. Augusta exclaimed, "Graciousme!"--first put up her hands to her eyes, and then turned her face tothe door. 

Furlong hid himself in the bed-curtains, while Ratty, the viciouslittle rascal, with a malicious laugh, said, "Now, promise you'll nottell papa, or I'll bring him up here--and then, how will you be?"

"Ratty, you wretch!" cried Augusta, kicking at the door, "let me out!"

"Not a bit, till you promise. "

"Oh, fie, Maste' O'Gwady!" said Furlong. 

"I'll scream, Ratty, if you don't let me out!" cried Augusta. 

"If you screech, papa will hear you, and then he'll come up and killthat fellow there. "

"Oh, don't squeam, Miss O'Gwady!" said Furlong, very vivaciously, fromthe bed-curtains; "don't squeam, pway!"

"I'm not squeamish, sir, " said Miss Augusta; "but it's dreadful to beshut up with a man who has no clothes on him. Let me out, Ratty--letme out!"

"Well, will you tell on us?"

"No. "

"'Pon your honour?"

"'Pon my honour, no! Make haste! Oh, if papa knew of this!"

Scarcely had the words been uttered, when the heavy tramp and gruffvoice of O'Grady resounded in the passage, and the boys scampered offin a fright, leaving the door locked. 

"Oh, what will become of me!" said the poor girl, with the extremity ofterror in her look--a terror so excessive, that she was quite heedlessof the dishabille of Furlong, who jumped from the curtains, when heheard O'Grady coming. 

"Don't be fwightened, Miss O'Gwady, " said Furlong, half frightened todeath himself. "When we explain the affair----"

"Explain!" said the girl, gasping. "Oh, you don't know papa!"

As she spoke, the heavy tramp ceased at the door--a sharp tapsucceeded, and Furlong's name was called in the gruff voice of theSquire. 

Furlong could scarcely articulate a response. 

"Let me in, " said O'Grady. 

"I am not dwessed, sir, " answered Furlong. 

"No matter, " said the Squire; "you're not a woman. "

Augusta wrung her hands. 

"I'll be down with you as soon as I am dwessed, sir, " replied Furlong. 

"I want to speak to you immediately--and here are letters for you--openthe door. "

Augusta signified by signs to Furlong that resistance would be vain;and hid herself under the bed. 

"Come in, sir, " said Furlong, when she was secreted. 

"The door is fastened, " said O'Grady. 

"Turn the key, sir, " said Furlong. 

O'Grady unlocked the door, and was so inconsistent a person, that henever thought of the impossibility of Furlong's having locked it, but, in the richest spirit of bulls, asked him if he always fastened hisdoor on the outside. Furlong said he always did. 

"What's the matter with you?" inquired O'Grady. "You're as white as thesheet there;" and he pointed to the bed as he spoke. 

Furlong grew whiter as he pointed to that quarter. 

"What ails you, man?--Aren't you well?"

"Wather fatigued--but I'll be bette' pwesently. What do you wish withme, sir?"

"Here are letters for you--I want to know what's inthem--Scatterbrain's come--do you know that?"

"No--I did not. "

"Don't stand there in the cold--go on dressing yourself; I'll sit downhere till you can open your letters: I want to tell you somethingbesides. " O'Grady took a chair as he spoke. 

Furlong assumed all the composure he could; and the girl began to hopeshe should remain undiscovered, and most likely she would have been solucky, had not the Genius of Disaster, with aspect malign, waved hersable wand, and called her chosen servant, Handy Andy, to her aid. He, her faithful and unfailing minister, obeyed the call, and at thatcritical juncture of time gave a loud knock at the chamber-door. 

"Come in, " said O'Grady. 

Andy opened the door and popped in his head. "I beg your pardon, sir, but I kem for the jintleman's portmantle. "

"What gentleman?" asked O'Grady. 

"The Honourable, sir; I tuk his portmantle to the wrong room, sir; andI'm come for it now, bekase he wants it. "

"There's no po'tmanteau here, " said Furlong. 

"O yis, sir, " said Andy; "I put it undher the bed. "

"Well, take it and be off, " said O'Grady. 

"No--no--no, " said Furlong, "don't distu'b my woom, if you please, tillI have done dwessing. "

"But the Honourable is dhressing too, sir; and that's why he wants theportmantle. "

"Take it, then, " said the Squire. 

Furlong was paralysed, and could offer no further resistance: Andystooped, and lifting the valance of the bed to withdraw the portmanteau, dropped it suddenly, and exclaimed, "O Lord!"

"What's the matter?" said the Squire. 

"Nothin', sir, " said Andy, looking scared. 

"Then take the portmanteau, and be hanged to you. "

"Oh, I'll wait till the jintleman's done, sir, " said Andy, retiring. 

"What the devil is all this about?" said the Squire, seeing thebewilderment of Furlong and Andy. "What is it at all?" and he stooped ashe spoke, and lifted the valance. But here description must end, andimagination supply the scene of fury and confusion which succeeded. Atthe first fierce volley of imprecation O'Grady gave vent to, Andy ranoff and alarmed the family, Augusta screamed, and Furlong held forsupport by the bedpost, while, between every hurricane of oaths, O'Gradyran to the door, and shouted for his pistols, and anon returned to thechamber to vent every abusive epithet which could be showered on man andwoman. The prodigious uproar soon brought the whole house to the spot;Mrs. O'Grady and the two spare girls amongst the first; Mat, and thecook, and the scullion, and all the housemaids in rapid succession; andScatterbrain himself at last; O'Grady all the time foaming at the mouth, stamping up and down the room, shaking his fist at Furlong, and, after avolley of names impossible to remember or print, always concluding withthe phrase, "Wait till I get my pistols!"

"Gusty, dear, " said his trembling wife, "what is it all about?"

He glared upon her with his flashing eyes, and said, "Fine educationyou give your children, ma'am. Where have you brought up your daughtersto go to, eh?"

"To church, my dear, " said Mrs. O'Grady, meekly; for she being a RomanCatholic, O'Grady was very jealous of his daughters being reared staunchProtestants, and she, poor simple woman, thought that was the drift ofhis question. 

"Church, my eye, woman!--Church, indeed!--'faith, she ought to havegone there before she came where I found her. Thunderan'ouns, where aremy pistols?"

"Where _has_ she gone to, my love?" asked the wife in a tremor. 

"To the divil, ma'am. Is that all you know about it?" said O'Grady. "And you wish to know where she is?"

"Yes, love, " said his wife. 

"Then look under that bed, ma'am, and you'll see her withoutspectacles. "

Mrs. O'Grady now gave a scream, and the girls and the housemaids joinedin the chorus. Augusta bellowed from under the bed, "Mamma! mamma!indeed it's all Ratty--I never did it. "

At this moment, to help the confusion, a fresh appearance made its wayinto the room; it was that of the Dowager O'Grady--arrayed in all thebygone finery of faded full-dress, and the tin chimney-pot on her head. "What is all this about?" she exclaimed, with an air of authority;"though my weathercock tells me the wind is nor'west, I did not expectsuch a storm. Is any one killed?"

"No, " said O'Grady; "but somebody will be soon. Where are my pistols?Blood and fire! will nobody bring me my pistols?"

"Here they are, sir, " said Handy Andy, running in. 

O'Grady made a rush for the pistols, but his mother and his wife threwthemselves before him, and Scatterbrain shoved Andy outside the room. 

"Confound you, you numscull! would you give pistols into the hands of afrantic man?"

"Sure, he ax'd for them, sir. "

"Go out o' this, you blockhead! Go and hide them somewhere, where yourmaster won't find them. "

Andy retired, muttering something about the hardness of a servant'scase, in being scolded and called names for doing his master's bidding. Scatterbrain returned to the room, where the confusion was still infull bloom; O'Grady swearing between his mother and wife, while Furlongendeavoured to explain how the young lady happened to be in his room;and she kicking in hysterics amidst the maids and her sisters, whileScatterbrain ran to and fro between all the parties, giving an ear toFurlong, an eye to O'Grady, and smelling salts to his daughter. 

The case was a hard one to a milder man than O'Grady--his speculationabout Scatterbrain all knocked on the head, for it could not be expected_he_ would marry the lady who had been found under another man's bed. Tohush the thing up would be impossible, after the publicity his own furyhad given to the affair. "Would she ever be married after such an affairwas _éclaté_?" The question rushed into his head on one side, and theanswer rushed in at the other, and met it with a plump "No!"--thequestion and answer then joined hands in O'Grady's mind, and danced downthe middle to the tune of "Haste to the wedding!"

"Yes, " he said, slapping his forehead, "she must be married at once. "Then, turning to Furlong, he said, "You're not married, I hope?"

Furlong acknowledged he was not, though he regretted the moment he hadmade the admission. 

"'T is well for you, " said O'Grady, "for it has saved your life. Youshall marry her, then!" He never thought of asking Furlong'sacquiescence in the measure. "Come here, you baggage!" he cried toAugusta, as he laid hold of her hand, and pulled her up from her chair;"come here! I intended you for a better man; but since you _have_ such ahang-dog taste, why, go to him!" And he shoved her over to Furlong. "There!" he said, addressing _him_, "take her, since you _will_ haveher. We'll speak of her fortune after. "

The poor girl stood abashed, sobbing aloud, and tears pouring from herdowncast eyes. Furlong was so utterly taken by surprise, that he wasriveted to the spot where he stood, and could not advance a step towardshis drooping intended. At this awkward moment, the glorious old dowagercame to the rescue; she advanced, tin chimney-pot and all, and taking ahand of each of the principals in hers, she joined them together in atheatrical manner, and ejaculated, with a benignant air, "Bless you, mychildren!"

In the midst of the mingled rage, confusion, fright, and astonishment ofthe various parties present, there was something so exquisitely absurdin the old woman's proceeding, that nearly every one felt inclined tolaugh; but the terror of O'Grady kept their risible faculties in check. Fate, however, decreed the finale should be comic; for the cook, suddenly recollecting herself, exclaimed, "Oh, murther! the goose willbe burned!" and ran out of the room; a smothered burst of laughtersucceeded, which roused the ire of O'Grady, who, making a charge rightand left amongst the delinquents, the room was soon cleared, and theparty dispersed in various directions, O'Grady's voice rising loud abovethe general confusion, as he swore his way down-stairs, kicking hismother's tin turban before him. 

CHAPTER XVII

Canvassing before an election resembles skirmishing before a battle;--theskirmishing was over, and the arrival of the Honourable SackvilleScatterbrain was like the first gun that commences an engagement;--andnow both parties were to enter on the final struggle. 

A jolly group sat in Murphy's dining-parlour on the eve of the day fixedfor the nomination. Hitting points of speeches were discussed--plans forbringing up voters--tricks to interrupt the business of the oppositeparty--certain allusions on the hustings that would make the enemy losetemper; and, above all, everything that could cheer and amuse thepeople, and make them rejoice in their cause. 

"Oh, let me alone for _that_ much, " said Murtough. "I have engagedevery piper and fiddler within twenty miles round, and divil a screechof a chanter[19] or a scrape of catcut Scatterbrain can have for love ormoney--that's one grand point. "

 [19] The principal tube of a bagpipe. 

"But, " said Tom Durfy, "he has engaged the yeomanry band. "

"What of that?" asked Dick Dawson; "a band is all very well for makinga splash in the first procession to the hustings, but what good is itin working out the details?"

"What do you call details?" said Durfy. 

"Why, the popular tunes in the public-houses and in the tally-rooms, while the fellows are waiting to go up. Then the dances in theevening--Wow!--won't Scatterbrain's lads look mighty shy when they knowthe Eganites are kicking their heels to 'Moll in the Wad, ' while_they_ haven't a lilt to shake their bones to?"

"To be sure, " said Murphy; "we'll have the deserters to our cause fromthe enemy's camp before the first night is over;[20] wait till the girlsknow where the fiddles are--and won't they make the lads join us!"

 [20] In those times elections often lasted many days. 

"I believe a woman would do a good deal for a dance, " said DoctorGrowling; "they are immensely fond of saltatory motion. I remember, once in my life, I used to flirt with a little actress who was a greatfavourite in a provincial town where I lived, and she was invited to aball there, and confided to me she had no silk stockings to appear in, and without them her presence at the ball was out of the question. "

"That was a hint to you to buy the stockings, " said Dick. 

"No--you're out, " said Growling. "She knew I was as poor as herself;but though she could not rely on my purse, she had every confidence inmy taste and judgment, and consulted me on a plan she formed for goingto the ball in proper twig. Now, what do you think it was?"

"To go in cotton, I suppose, " returned Dick. 

"Out, again, sir--you'd never guess it; and only a woman could have hiton the expedient; it was the fashion in those days for ladies in fulldress to wear pink stockings, and she proposed _painting herlegs_!"

"Painting her legs!" they all exclaimed. 

"Fact, sir, " said the doctor; "and she relied on me for telling her ifthe cheat was successful----"

"And was it?" asked Durfy. 

"Don't be in a hurry, Tom. I complied on one condition--namely, that Ishould be the painter. "

"Oh, you villain!" cried Dick. 

"A capital bargain!" said Tom Durfy. 

"But not a safe covenant, " added the attorney. 

"Don't interrupt me, gentlemen, " said the doctor. "I got some rose-pinkaccordingly, and I defy all the hosiers in Nottingham to make a tighterfit than I did on little Jinney; and a prettier pair of stockings Inever saw. "

"And she went to the ball?" said Dick. 

"She did!"

"And the trick succeeded?" added Durfy. 

"So completely, " said the doctor, "that several ladies asked her torecommend her dyer to them! So you see what a woman will do to go to adance. Poor little Jinney!--she was a merry minx. By-the-bye, she boxedmy ears that night, for a joke I made about the stockings. 'Jinney, 'said I, 'for fear your stockings should fall down when you're dancing, hadn't you better let me paint a pair of garters on them?'"

The fellows laughed at the doctor's quaint conceit about the garters, but Murphy called them back to the business of the election. 

"What next?" he said, "public-houses and tally-rooms to have pipers andfiddlers--ay--and we'll get up as good a march, too, as Scatterbrain, with all his yeomanry band;--think a cartfull of fiddlers would have afine effect!"

"If we could only get a double-bass amongst them!" said Dick. 

"Talking of double-basses, " said the doctor, "did you ever hear thestory of the sailor in an admiral's ship, who, when some fine concertwas to be given on board----"

"Hang your concerts and stories!" said Murphy; "let us go on with theelection. "

"Oh, the doctor's story!" cried Tom Durfy and Dick Dawson together. 

"Well, sir, " continued the doctor, "a sailor was handing in, over theside, from a boat which bore the instruments from shore, a great lot offiddles. When some tenors came into his hand he said those were realgood-sized fiddles; and when a violoncello appeared, Jack, supposing itwas to be held between the hand and the shoulder, like a violin, declared 'He must be a strapping chap that fiddle belonged to!' Butwhen the double-bass made its appearance, 'My eyes and limbs!' criedJack, 'I _would_ like to see the chap as plays that!!!'"

"Well, doctor, are you done?" cried Murphy; "for, if you are, now forthe election. You say, Dick, Major Dawson is to propose yourbrother-in-law?"

"Yes. "

"And he'll do it well, too; the Major makes a very good straightforwardspeech. "

"Yes, " said Dick; "the old cock is not a bad hand at it. But I have asuspicion he's going to make a greater oration than usual and read somelong rigmarolish old records. "

"That will never do!" said Murphy, "as long as a man looks Pat _in_ theface, and makes a good rattling speech 'out o' the face, ' Pat willlisten to him; but when a lad takes to heavy readings, Pat grows tired. We must persuade the Major to give up the reading. "

"Persuade _my_ father!" cried Dick. "When did you ever hear of hisgiving up his own opinion?"

"If he could be prevailed on even to shorten----" said Murphy. 

"Oh, leave him to me, " said Dick, laughing; "I'll take care he'll notread a word. "

"Manage that, Dick, and you're a jewel!"

"I will, " said Dick. "I'll take the glasses out of his spectacles themorning of the nomination, and then let him read, if he can. "

"Capital, Dick; and now the next point of discussion is----"

"Supper, ready to come up, sir, " said a servant, opening the door. 

"Then, that's the best thing we could discuss, boys, " said Murphy tohis friends--"so up with the supper, Dan. Up with the supper! Up withthe Egans! Down with the Scatterbrains--hurrah!--we'll beat themgaily. "

"Hollow!" said Durfy. 

"Not hollow, " said Dick; "we'll have a tussle for it. "

"So much the better, " cried Murphy; "I would not give a fig for an easyvictory--there's no fun in it. Give me the election that is like arace--now one ahead, and then the other; the closeness calling out allthe energies of both parties--developing their tact and invention, and, at last, the return secured by a large majority. "

"But think of the glory of a large one, " said Dick. 

"Ay, " added Durfy, "beside crushing the hope of a petition on the partof your enemy to pull down the majority. "

"But think of Murphy's enjoyment, " said the doctor, "in defending theseat, to say nothing of the bill of costs. "

"You have me there, doctor, " said Murphy; "a fair hit, I grant you; butsee, the supper is on the table. To it, my lads; to it! and then ajolly glass to drink success to our friend Egan. "

And glass after glass they did drink in all sorts and shapes ofwell-wishing toasts; in short, to have seen the deep interest those mentook in the success of their friend, might have gladdened the heart ofa philanthropist; though there is no knowing what Father Mathew, had heflourished in those times, might have said to their overflowingbenevolence. 

CHAPTER XVIII

The morning of nomination which dawned on Neck-or-Nothing Hall saw amotley group of O'Grady's retainers assembling in the stable-yard, andthe out-offices rang to laugh and joke over a rude but plentifulbreakfast--tea and coffee, there, had no place--but meat, potatoes, milk, beer, and whisky were at the option of the body-guard, which wasselected for the honour of escorting the wild chief and his friend, the candidate, into the town. Of this party was the yeomanry-band ofwhich Tom Durfy spoke, though, to say the truth, considering Tom'sapprehensions on the subject, it was of slender force. One trumpet, oneclarionet, a fife, a big drum, and a pair of cymbals, with a "_real_nigger" to play them, were all they could muster. 

After clearing off everything in the shape of breakfast, the"musicianers" amused the retainers, from time to time, with a tuneon the clarionet, fife, or trumpet, while they waited the appearance ofthe party from the house. Uproarious mirth and noisy joking rang roundthe dwelling, to which none contributed more largely than the trumpeter, who fancied himself an immensely clever fellow, and had a heap ofcut-and-dry jokes at his command, and practical drolleries in which heindulged to the great entertainment of all, but of none more than Andy, who was in the thick of the row, and in a divided ecstasy between the"_blaky-moor's_" turban and cymbals and the trumpeter's jokes and music;the latter articles having a certain resemblance, by-the-bye, to theformer in clumsiness and noise, and therefore suited to Andy's taste. Whenever occasion offered, Andy got near the big drum, too, and gave ita thump, delighted with the result of his ambitious achievement. 

Andy was not lost on the trumpeter: "Arrah, maybe you'd like to have atouch at these?" said the joker, holding up the cymbals. 

"Is it hard to play them, sir?" inquired Andy. 

"Hard!" said the trumpeter; "sure they're not hard at all--but as softand smooth as satin inside--just feel them--rub your fingers inside. "

Andy obeyed; and his finger was chopped between the two brazen plates. Andy roared, the bystanders laughed, and the trumpeter triumphed in hiswit. Sometimes he would come behind an unsuspecting boor, and give, close to his ear, a discordant bray from his trumpet, like the note of ajackass, which made _him_ jump, and the crowd roar with merriment; or, perhaps, when the clarionet or the fife was engaged in giving the peoplea tune, he would drown either, or both of them, in a wild yell of hisinstrument. As they could not make reprisals upon him, he had his ownway in playing whatever he liked for his audience; and in doing soindulged in all the airs of a great artist--pulling out one crook fromanother--blowing through them softly, and shaking the moisture from themin a tasty style--arranging them with a fastidious nicety--then, afterthe final adjustment of the mouth-piece, lipping the instrument with anaffectation exquisitely grotesque; but before he began he always askedfor another drink. 

"It's not for myself, " he would say, "but for the thrumpet, thecrayther; the divil a note she can blow without a dhrop. "

Then, taking a mug of drink, he would present it to the bell of thetrumpet, and afterwards transfer it to his own lips, always bowing tothe instrument first, and saying, "Your health, ma'am!"

This was another piece of delight to the mob, and Andy thought him thefunniest fellow he ever met, though he _did_ chop his finger. 

"Faix, sir, an' it is dhry work, I'm sure, playing the thing. "

"Dhry!" said the trumpeter, "'pon my ruffles and tuckers--and that's acambric oath--it's worse nor lime-burnin', so it is--it makes a man'sthroat as parched as pays. "

"Who dar says pays?" cried the drummer. 

"Howld your prate!" said the trumpeter, elegantly, and silenced allreply by playing a tune. As soon as it was ended, he turned to Andy andasked for a cork. 

Andy gave it to him. 

The man of jokes affected to put it into the trumpet. 

"What's that for, sir?" asked Andy. 

"To bottle up the music, " said the trumpeter--"sure all the music wouldrun about the place if I didn't do that. "

Andy gave a vague sort of "ha, ha!" as if he were not quite sure whetherthe trumpeter was in jest or earnest, and thought at the moment that toplay the trumpet and practical jokes must be the happiest life in theworld. Filled with this idea, Andy was on the watch how he could possesshimself of the trumpet, for could he get one blast on it, he would behappy: a chance at last opened to him; after some time, the lively ownerof the treasure laid down his instrument to handle a handsome blackthornwhich one of the retainers was displaying, and he made some flourisheswith the weapon to show that music was not his only accomplishment. Andyseized the opportunity and the trumpet, and made off to one of the shedswhere they had been regaling; and, shutting the door to secure himselffrom observation, he put the trumpet to his mouth and distended hischeeks near to bursting with the violence of his efforts to produce asound; but all his puffing was unavailing for some minutes. At last afaint cracked squeak answered a more desperate blast than before, andAndy was delighted. "Everything must have a beginning, " thought Andy, "and maybe I'll get a tune out of it yet. " He tried again, and increasedin power; for a sort of strangled screech was the result. Andy was inecstasy, and began to indulge visions of being one day a trumpeter; hestrutted up and down the shed like the original he so envied, andrepeated some of the drolleries he heard him utter. He also imitated hisactions of giving a drink to the trumpet, and was more generous to theinstrument than the owner, for he really poured about half a pint ofbeer down its throat: he then drank its health, and finished by"bottling up the music, " absolutely cramming a cork into the trumpet. Now Andy, having no idea the trumpeter made a sham of the action, made avigorous plunge of a goodly cork into the throat of the instrument, and, in so doing, the cork went further than he intended: he tried towithdraw it, but his clumsy fingers, instead of extracting, only droveit in deeper--he became alarmed--and, seizing a fork, strove with itsassistance to remedy the mischief he had done, but the more he poked, the worse; and, in his fright, he thought the safest thing he could dowas to cram the cork out of sight altogether, and having soon done that, he returned to the yard, and laid down the trumpet unobserved. 

Immediately after, the procession to the town started. O'Grady gaveorders that the party should not be throwing away their powder andshot, as he called it, in untimely huzzas and premature music. "Waittill you come to the town, boys, " said he, "and then you may smash awayas hard as you can; blow your heads off, and split the sky. "

The party of Merryvale was in motion for the place of action about thesame time, and a merrier pack of rascals never was on the march. Murphy, in accordance with his preconceived notion of a "fine effect, "had literally "a cart full of fiddlers;" but the fiddlers hadn't it allto themselves, for there was another cart full of pipers; and, by wayof mockery to the grandeur of Scatterbrain's band, he had four or fiveboys with gridirons, which they played upon with pokers, and half adozen strapping fellows carrying large iron tea-trays, which theywhopped after the manner of a Chinese gong. 

It so happened that the two roads from Merryvale and Neck-or-NothingHall met at an acute angle, at the same end of the town, and it chancedthat the rival candidates and their retinues arrived at this pointabout the same time. 

"There they are!" said Murphy, who presided in the cart full of fiddlerslike a leader in an orchestra, with a shillelah for his _baton_, whichhe flourished over his head as he shouted, "Now give it to them, yoursowls!--rasp and lilt away, boys!--slate the gridirons, Mike!--smaddherthe tay-tray, Tom!"

The uproar of strange sounds that followed, shouting included, may beeasier imagined than described; and O'Grady, answering the war-cry, sungout to his band--"What are you at, you lazy rascals?--don't you hear_them_ blackguards beginning?--fire away, and be hanged to you!" Hisrascals shouted, bang went the drum, and clang went the cymbals, theclarionet squeaked, and the fife tootled, but the trumpet--ah!--thetrumpet--their great reliance--where was the trumpet? O'Grady inquiredin the precise words, with a diabolical addition of his own. "Where thed---- is the trumpet?" said he; he looked over the side of the carriageas he spoke, and saw the trumpeter spitting out a mouthful of beer whichhad run from the instrument as he lifted it to his mouth. 

"Bad luck to you, what are you wasting your time there for?" thunderedO'Grady in a rage; "why didn't you spit out when you were young, andyou'd be a clean old man? Blow and be d---- to you!"

The trumpeter filled his lungs for a great blast, and put the trumpet tohis lips--but in vain; Andy had bottled his music for him. O'Grady, seeing the inflated cheeks and protruding eyes of the musician, whosevisage was crimson with exertion, and yet no sound produced, thought thefellow was practising one of his jokes upon him, and became excessivelyindignant; he thundered anathemas at him, but his voice was drowned inthe din of the drum and cymbals, which were plied so vigorously, thatthe clarionet and fife shared the same fate as O'Grady's voice. Thetrumpeter could judge of O'Grady's rage from the fierceness of hisactions only, and answered him in pantomimic expression, holding up histrumpet and pointing into the bell, with a grin of vexation on his phiz, meant to express something was wrong; but this was all mistaken by thefierce O'Grady, who only saw in the trumpeter's grins the insolentintention of jibing him. 

"Blow, you blackguard, blow!" shouted the Squire. Bang went the drum. 

"Blow--or I'll break your neck!" Crash went the cymbals. 

"Stop your banging there, you ruffians, and let me be heard!" roaredthe excited man; but as he was standing up on the seat of the carriage, and flung his arms about wildly as he spoke, the drummer thought hisaction was meant to stimulate him to further exertion, and he bangedaway louder than before. 

"By the hokey, I'll murder some o' ye!" shouted the Squire, who, ordering the carriage to pull up, flung open the door and jumped out, made a rush at the drummer, seized his principal drumstick, and givinghim a bang over the head with it, cursed him for a rascal for notstopping when he told him; this silenced all the instruments together, and O'Grady, seizing the trumpeter by the back of the neck, shook himviolently, while he denounced with fierce imprecations his insolence indaring to practise a joke on him. The trumpeter protested his innocence, and O'Grady called him a lying rascal, finishing his abuse by clenchinghis fist in a menacing attitude, and telling him to play. 

"I can't, yer honour!"

"You lie, you scoundrel. "

"There's something in the trumpet, sir. "

"Yes, there's music in it; and if you don't blow it out of it----"

"I can't blow it out of it, sir. "

"Hold your prate, you ruffian; blow this minute. "

"Arrah, thry it yourself, sir, " said the frightened man, handing theinstrument to the Squire. 

"D----n your impudence, you rascal; do you think I'd blow anything thatwas in your dirty mouth? Blow, I tell you, or it will be worse foryou. "

"By the vartue o' my oath, your honour----"

"Blow, I tell you!"

"By the seven blessed candles----"

"Blow, I tell you!"

"The trumpet is choked, sir. "

"There will be a trumpeter choked, soon, " said O'Grady, gripping him bythe neck-handkerchief, with his knuckles ready to twist into his throat. "By this and that I'll strangle you, if you don't play this minute, youhumbugger. "

"By the Blessed Virgin, I'm not humbiggin' your honour, " stammered thetrumpeter with the little breath O'Grady left him. 

Scatterbrain, seeing O'Grady's fury, and fearful of its consequences, had alighted from the carriage and came to the rescue, suggesting tothe infuriated Squire that what the man said might be true. O'Gradysaid he knew better, that the blackguard was a notorious joker, andhaving indulged in a jest in the first instance, was now only lying tosave himself from punishment; furthermore, swearing that if he did notplay that minute he'd throw him into the ditch. 

With great difficulty O'Grady was prevailed upon to give up the gripeof the trumpeter's throat; and the poor breathless wretch, handing theinstrument to the clarionet-player, appealed to him if it were possibleto play on it. The clarionet-player said he could not tell, for he didnot understand the trumpet. 

"You see there!" cried O'Grady. "You see he's humbugging, and theclarionet-player is an honest man. "

"An honest man!" exclaimed the trumpeter, turning fiercely on theclarionet-player. "He's the biggest _villain_ unhanged for sthrivin' toget me murthered, and refusin' the evidence for me!" The man's eyesflashed fury as he spoke, and throwing his trumpet down, "Mooney!--byjakers, you're no man!" Clenching his fist as he spoke, he made a rushon the clarionet-player, and planted a hit on his mouth with suchvigour, that he rolled in the dust; and when he rose, it was with suchan upper lip that his clarionet-playing was evidently finished for thenext week certainly. 

Now the fifer was the clarionet-player's brother; and he, turning onthe trumpeter, roared--

"Bad luck to you!--you did not sthrek him fair!"

But while in the very act of reprobating the foul blow, he let flyunder the ear of the trumpeter, who was quite unprepared for it, --andhe, too, measured his length on the road. On recovering his legs herushed on the fifer for revenge, and a regular scuffle ensued among"the musicianers, " to the great delight of the crowd of retainers, whowere so well primed with whisky that a fight was just the thing totheir taste. 

In vain O'Grady swore at them, and went amongst them, striving torestore order, but they would not be quiet till several black eyes anddamaged noses bore evidence of a busy five minutes having passed. Inthe course of "the scrimmage, " Fate was unkind to the fifer, whosemouth-piece was considerably impaired; and "the boys" remarked, thatthe worst stick you could have in a crowd was a "whistling stick, " bywhich name they designated the fifer's instrument. 

At last, however, peace was restored, and the trumpeter again orderedto play by O'Grady. 

He protested, again, it was impossible. 

The fifer, in revenge, declared he was only humbugging the Squire. 

Hereupon O'Grady, seizing the unfortunate trumpeter, gave him a moresublime kicking than ever fell to the lot of even piper or fiddler, whose pay[21] is proverbially oftener in that article than the coin ofthe realm. 

 [21] Fiddlers' fare, or pipers' pay--more kicks than halfpence. 

Having tired himself, and considerably rubbed down the toe of his bootwith his gentlemanly exercise, O'Grady dragged the trumpeter to theditch, and rolled him into it, there to cool the fever which burned inhis seat of honour. 

O'Grady then re-entered the carriage with Scatterbrain, and the partyproceeded; but the clarionet-player could not blow a note; the fiferwas not in good playing condition, and tootled with some difficulty;the drummer was obliged now and then to relax his efforts in making anoise that he might lift his right arm to his nose, which had gotdamaged in the fray, and the process of wiping his face with his cuffchanged the white facings of his jacket to red. The negro cymbal-playerwas the only one whose damages were not to be ascertained, as a blackeye would not tell on him, and his lips could not be more swollen thannature had made them. On the procession went, however; but the rivalmob, the Eganites, profiting by the delay caused by the row, got ahead, and entered the town first, with their pipers and fiddlers, hurrahingtheir way in good humour down the street, and occupying the best placesin the court-house before the arrival of the opposite party, whoseband, instead of being a source of triumph, was only a thing of jeeringmerriment to the Eganites, who received them with mockery and laughter. All this by no means sweetened O'Grady's temper, who looked thunder ashe entered the court-house with his candidate, who was, though agood-humoured fellow, a little put out by the accidents of the morning;and Furlong looked more sheepish than ever, as he followed his leaders. 

The business of the day was opened by the high-sheriff, and Major Dawsonlost no time in rising to propose, that Edward Egan, Esquire, ofMerryvale, was a fit and proper person to represent the county inparliament. 

The proposition was received with cheers by "the boys" in the body ofthe court-house; the Major proceeded, full sail, in his speech--hiscourse aided by being on the popular current, and the "sweet voices" ofthe multitude blowing in his favour. On concluding (as "the boys"thought) his address, which was straightforward and to the point, avoice in the crowd proposed "Three cheers for the owld Major. " Threedeafening peals followed the hint. 

"And now, " said the Major, "I will read a few extracts here from somedocuments, in support of what I have had the honour of addressing toyou. " And he pulled out a bundle of papers as he spoke, and laid themdown before him. 

The movement was not favoured by "the boys, " as it indicated a tediousreference to facts by no means to their taste, and the same voice thatsuggested the three cheers, now sung out--

"Never mind, Major--sure we'll take your word for it!"

Cries of "Order!" and "Silence!" ensued; and were followed by murmurs, coughs, and sneezes, in the crowd, with a considerable shuffling ofhobnailed shoes on the pavement. 

"Order!" cried a voice in authority. 

"Order anything you plaze, sir!" said the voice in the crowd. 

"Whisky!" cried one. 

"Porther!" cried another. 

"Tabakky!" roared a third. 

"I must insist on silence!" cried the sheriff, in a very husky voice. "Silence!--or I'll have the court-house cleared. "

"'Faith, if you cleared your own throat it would be better, " said thewag in the crowd. 

A laugh followed. The sheriff felt the hit, and was silent. 

The Major all this time had been adjusting his spectacles on his nose, unconscious, poor old gentleman, that Dick, according to promise, hadabstracted the glasses from them that morning. He took up his documentsto read, made sundry wry faces, turned the papers up to the light, --nowon this side, and now on that, --but could make out nothing; while Dickgave a knowing wink at Murphy. The old gentleman took off his spectaclesto wipe the glasses. 

The voice in the crowd cried, "Thank you, Major. "

The Major pulled out his handkerchief, and his fingers met where heexpected to find a lens:--he looked very angry, cast a suspicious glanceat Dick, who met it with the composure of an anchorite, and quietlyasked what was the matter. 

"I shall not trouble you, gentlemen, with the extracts, " said theMajor. 

"Hear, hear, " responded the genteel part of the auditory. 

"I tould you we'd take your word, Major, " cried the voice in the crowd. 

Egan's seconder followed the Major, and the crowd shouted again. O'Gradynow came forward to propose the Honourable Sackville Scatterbrain, as afit and proper person to represent the county in parliament. He wasreceived by his own set of vagabonds with uproarious cheers, and"O'Grady for ever!" made the walls ring. "Egan for ever!" and hurras, were returned from the Merryvalians. O'Grady thus commenced hisaddress:--

"In coming forward to support my honourable friend, the HonourableSackville Scatterbrain, it is from the conviction--the conviction----"

"Who got the conviction agen the potteen last sishin?" said the voicein the crowd. 

Loud groans followed this allusion to the prosecution of a few littleprivate stills, in which O'Grady had shown some unnecessary severitythat made him unpopular. Cries of "Order!" and "Silence!" ensued. 

"I say the conviction, " repeated O'Grady fiercely, looking towards thequarter whence the interruption took place, --"and if there is anyblackguard here who dares to interrupt me, I'll order him to be takenout by the ears. I say, I propose my honourable friend, the HonourableSackville Scatterbrain, from the conviction that there is a necessityin this county----"

"'Faith, there is plenty of necessity, " said the tormentor in thecrowd. 

"Take that man out, " said the sheriff. 

"Don't hurry yourself, sir, " returned the delinquent, amidst thelaughter of "the boys, " in proportion to whose merriment rose O'Grady'sill-humour. 

"I say there is a necessity for a vigorous member to represent thiscounty in parliament, and support the laws, the constitution, thecrown, and the--the--interests of the county!"

"Who made the new road?" was a question that now arose from thecrowd--a laugh followed--and some groans at this allusion to a bit ofjobbing on the part of O'Grady, who got a grand jury presentment tomake a road which served nobody's interest but his own. 

"The frequent interruptions I meet here from the lawless anddisaffected show too plainly that we stand in need of men who willsupport the arm of the law in purging the country. "

"Who killed the 'pothecary?" said a fellow, in a voice so deep asseemed fit only to issue from the jaws of death. 

The question, and the extraordinary voice in which it was uttered, produced one of those roars of laughter which sometimes shake publicmeetings in Ireland; and O'Grady grew furious. 

"If I knew who that gentleman was, I'd pay him!" said he. 

"You'd better pay _them you know_, " was the answer; and thisallusion to O'Grady's notorious character of a bad payer, was relishedby the crowd, and again raised the laugh against him. 

"Sir, " said O'Grady, addressing the sheriff, "I hold this ruffianism incontempt. I treat it, and the authors of it, those who no doubt haveinstructed them, with contempt. " He looked over to where Egan and hisfriends stood, as he spoke of the crowd having had instruction tointerrupt him. 

"If you mean, sir, " said Egan, "that I have given any such instructions, I deny, in the most unqualified terms, the truth of such an assertion. "

"Keep yourself cool, Ned, " said Dick Dawson, close to his ear. 

"Never fear me, " said Egan; "but I won't let him bully. "

The two former friends now exchanged rather fierce looks at each other. 

"Then why am I interrupted?" asked O'Grady. 

"It is no business of mine to answer that, " replied Egan; "but I repeatthe unqualified denial of your assertion. "

The crowd ceased its noise when the two Squires were seen engaged inexchanging smart words, in the hopes of catching what they said. 

"It is a disgraceful uproar, " said the sheriff. 

"Then it is your business, Mister Sheriff, " returned Egan, "to suppressit--not mine; they are quiet enough now. "

"Yes, but they'll make a wow again, " said Furlong, "when Miste' O'Gwadybegins. "

"You seem to know all about it, " said Dick; "maybe _you_ haveinstructed them. "

"No, sir, I didn't instwuct them, " said Furlong, very angry at beingtwitted by Dick. 

Dick laughed in his face, and said, "Maybe that's some of yourelectioneering tactics--eh?"

Furlong got very angry, while Dick and Murphy shouted with laughter athim--"No, sir, " said Furlong, "I don't welish the pwactice of suchdi'ty twicks. "

"Do you apply the word 'dirty' to me, sir?" said Dick the Devil, rufflingup like a game-cock. "I'll tell you what, sir, if you make use of theword 'dirty' again, I'd think very little of kicking you--ay, or eightlike you--I'll kick eight Furlongs one mile. "

"Who's talking of kicking?" asked O'Grady. 

"I am, " said Dick, "do you want any?"

"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" cried the sheriff, "order! pray order! doproceed with the business of the day. "

"I'll talk to you after about this!" said O'Grady, in a threateningtone. 

"Very well, " said Dick; "we've time enough, the day's young yet. "

O'Grady then proceeded to find fault with Egan, censuring his politics, and endeavouring to justify his defection from the same cause. Heconcluded thus: "Sir, I shall pursue my course of duty; I have chalkedout my own line of conduct, sir, and I am convinced no other line isthe right line. Our opponents are wrong, sir--totally wrong--all wrong;and, as I have said, I have chalked out my own line, sir, and I proposethe Honourable Sackville Scatterbrain as a fit and proper person to sitin parliament for the representation of this county. "

The O'Gradyites shouted as their chief concluded; and the Merryvaliansreturned some groans, and a cry of "Go home, turncoat!"

Egan now presented himself, and was received with deafening andlong-continued cheers, for he was really beloved by the people atlarge; his frank and easy nature, the amiable character he bore in allhis social relations, the merciful and conciliatory tendency of hisdecisions and conduct as a magistrate, won him the solid respect aswell as affection of the country. 

He had been for some days in low spirits in consequence of Larry Hogan'svisit and mysterious communication with him; but this, its cause, wasunknown to all but himself, and therefore more difficult to support; fornone but those whom sad experience has taught can tell the agony ofenduring in secret and in silence the pang that gnaws a proud heart, which, Spartan like, will let the tooth destroy, without complaint ormurmur. 

His depression, however, was apparent, and Dick told Murphy he fearedNed would not be up to the mark at the election; but Murphy, with abetter knowledge of human nature, and the excitement of such a cause, said, "Never fear him--ambition is a long spur, my boy, and will stirthe blood of a thicker-skinned fellow than your brother-in-law. When hecomes to stand up and assert his claims before the world, he'll be allright!"

Murphy was a true prophet, for Egan presented himself with confidence, brightness, and good-humour on his open countenance. 

"The first thing I have to ask of you, boys, " said Egan, addressing theassembled throng, "is a fair hearing for the other candidate. "

"Hear, hear, " followed from the gentlemen in the gallery. 

"And, as he's a stranger amongst us, let him have the privilege offirst addressing you. "

With these words he bowed courteously to Scatterbrain, who thanked himvery much like a gentleman, and accepting his offer, advanced to addressthe electors. O'Grady waved his hand in signal to his body-guard, andScatterbrain had three cheers from the ragamuffins. 

He was no great things of a speaker, but he was a good-humoured fellow, and this won on the Paddies; and although coming before them under thedisadvantage of being proposed by O'Grady, they heard him with goodtemper:--to this, however, Egan's good word considerably contributed. 

He went very much over the ground his proposer had taken, so that, bating the bad temper, the pith of his speech was much the same, quiteas much deprecating the political views of his opponent, and harping onO'Grady's worn-out catch-word of "Having chalked out a line forhimself, " &c. &c. &c. 

Egan now stood forward, and was greeted with fresh cheers. He began ina very Irish fashion; for, being an unaffected, frank, and free-heartedfellow himself, he knew how to touch the feelings of those who possesssuch qualities. He waited till the last echo of the uproarious greetingdied away, and the first simple words he uttered were--

"Here I am, boys!"

Simple as these words were, they produced "one cheer more. "

"Here I am, boys--_the same I ever was_. "

Loud huzzas and "Long life to you!" answered the last pithy words, whichwere sore ones to O'Grady, who, as a renegade, felt the hit. 

"Fellow-countrymen, I come forward to represent you, and, however I maybe unequal to _that_ task, at least I will never _mis_represent you. "

Another cheer followed. 

"My past life is evidence enough on _that_ point; God forbid I were ofthe mongrel breed of Irishmen who speak ill of their own country. Inever did it, boys, and I never will! Some think they get on by it, andso they do, indeed;--they get on as sweeps and shoe-blacks get on--theydrive a dirty trade and find employment;--but are they respected?"

Shouts of "No!--no!"

"You're right!--No!--they are not respected--even by their veryemployers. Your political sweep and shoe-black is no more respected thanhe who cleans our chimneys or cleans our shoes. The honourable gentlemanwho has addressed you last confesses he is a stranger amongst you; andis _he_, a stranger, to be your representative? You may be civil to astranger--it is a pleasing duty, --but he is not the man to whom youwould give your confidence. You might share a hearty glass with astranger, but you would not enter into a joint lease of a farm withoutknowing a little more of him; and if you would not trust a single farmwith a stranger, will you give a whole county into his hands? When astranger comes to these parts, I'm sure he'll get a civil answer fromevery man I see here, --he will get a civil 'yes' or a civil 'no' to hisquestions; and if he seeks his way, you will show him his road. As tothe honourable gentleman who has done you the favour to come and ask youcivilly, will you give him the county, you as civilly may answer 'No, 'and _show him his road home again_. ('So we will. ') As for the gentlemanwho proposed him, he has chosen to make certain strictures upon myviews, and opinions, and conduct. As for views--there was a certainheathen god the Romans worshipped, called Janus; he was a fellow withtwo heads--and by-the-bye, boys, he would have been just the fellow tolive amongst us; for when one of his heads was broken he would have hadthe other for use. Well, this Janus was called 'double-face, ' and couldsee before and behind him. Now, _I'm no double-face_, boys; and as forseeing before and behind me, I can look back on the past and forward tothe future, and _both_ the roads are _straight ones_. (Cheers. ) I wishevery one could say as much. As for my opinions, all I shall say is, _I_never changed _mine_; Mr. O'Grady can't say as much. "

"Sure there's a weathercock in the family, " said the voice in thecrowd. 

A loud laugh followed this sally, for the old dowager's eccentricitywas not _quite_ a secret. O'Grady looked as if he could have eatenthe whole crowd at a mouthful. 

"Much has been said, " continued Egan, "about gentlemen chalking outlines for themselves;--now, the plain English of this determinedchalking of _their own_ line is _rubbing out every other man's line_. (Bravo. ) Some of these chalking gentlemen have lines chalked up againstthem, and might find it difficult to pay the score if they were calledto account. To such, rubbing out other men's lines, and their own too, may be convenient; but I don't like the practice. Boys, I have no moreto say than this, _We know and can trust each other!_"

Egan's address was received with acclamation, and when silence wasrestored, the sheriff demanded a show of hands; and a very fine show ofhands there was, _and every hand had a stick in it_. 

The show of hands was declared to be in favour of Egan, whereupon apoll was demanded on the part of Scatterbrain, after which every onebegan to move from the court-house. 

O'Grady, in very ill-humour, was endeavouring to shove past a herculeanfellow, rather ragged and very saucy, who did not seem inclined to giveplace to the savage elbowing of the Squire. 

"What brings such a ragged rascal as you here?" said O'Grady, brutally;"you're not an elector. "

"Yis, I am!" replied the fellow, sturdily. 

"Why, _you_ can't have a lease, you beggar. "

"No, but maybe I have an article. "[22]

 [22] A name given to a written engagement between landlord and tenant, promising to grant a lease, on which registration is allowed in Ireland. 

"What is your article?"

"What is it?" retorted the fellow, with a fierce look at O'Grady. "'Faith, it's a fine brass blunderbuss; _and I'd like to see the manwould dispute the title_. "

O'Grady had met his master, and could not reply; the crowd shouted forthe ragamuffin, and all parties separated, to gird up their loins forthe next day's poll. 

CHAPTER XIX

After the angry words exchanged at the nomination, the most peaceablereader must have anticipated the probability of a duel;--but when theinflammable stuff of which Irishmen are made is considered, togetherwith the excitement and pugnacious spirit attendant upon elections inall places, the certainty of a hostile meeting must have been apparent. The sheriff might have put the gentlemen under arrest, it is true, butthat officer was a weak, thoughtless, irresolute person, and took nosuch precaution; though, to do the poor man justice, it is only fair tosay that such an intervention of authority at such a time and placewould be considered on all hands as a very impertinent, unjustifiable, and discourteous interference with the private pleasures and privilegesof gentlemen. 

Dick Dawson had a message conveyed to him from O'Grady, requesting thehonour of his company the next morning to "grass before breakfast!" towhich, of course, Dick returned an answer expressive of the utmostreadiness to oblige the Squire with his presence; and, as the businessof the election was of importance, it was agreed they should meet at agiven spot on the way to the town, and so lose as little time aspossible. 

The next morning, accordingly, the parties met at the appointed place, Dick attended by Edward O'Connor and Egan--the former in capacity ofhis friend; and O'Grady, with Scatterbrain for his second, and Furlonga looker-on: there were some straggling spectators besides, to witnessthe affair. 

"O'Grady looks savage, Dick, " said Edward. 

"Yes, " answered Dick, with a smile of as much unconcern as if he weregoing to lead off a country dance. "He looks as pleasant as a bull in apound. "

"Take care of yourself, my dear Dick, " said Edward seriously. 

"My dear boy, don't make yourself uneasy, " replied Dick, laughing. "I'll bet you two to one he misses me. "

Edward made no reply, but, to his sensitive and more thoughtful nature, betting at such a moment savoured too much of levity, so, leaving hisfriend, he advanced to Scatterbrain, and they commenced making thepreliminary preparations. 

During the period which this required O'Grady was looking down sulkilyor looking up fiercely, and striking his heel with vehemence into thesod, while Dick Dawson was whistling a planxty and eyeing his man. 

The arrangements were soon made, the men placed on their ground, andDick saw by the intent look with which O'Grady marked him, that he meantmischief; they were handed their pistols--the seconds retired--the wordwas given, and as O'Grady raised his pistol, Dick saw he was completelycovered, and suddenly exclaimed, throwing up his arm, "I beg your pardonfor a moment. "

O'Grady involuntarily lowered his weapon, and seeing Dick standingperfectly erect, and nothing following his sudden request for thissuspension of hostilities, asked, in a very angry tone, why he hadinterrupted him. "Because I saw you had me covered, " said Dick, "andyou'd have hit me if you had fired that time: now fire away as soon asyou like!" added he, at the same moment rapidly bringing up his ownpistol to the level. 

O'Grady was taken by surprise, and fancying Dick was going to blaze athim, fired hastily, and missed his adversary. 

Dick made him a low bow, and fired in the air. 

O'Grady wanted another shot, saying Dawson had tricked him, butScatterbrain felt the propriety of Edward O'Connor's objection tofurther fighting, after Dawson receiving O'Grady's fire; so thegentlemen were removed from the ground and the affair terminated. 

O'Grady, having fully intended to pink Dick, was excessively savage atbeing overreached, and went off to the election with a temper by nomeans sweetened by the morning's adventure, while Dick roared withlaughing, exclaiming at intervals to Edward O'Connor, as he was puttingup his pistols, "Did not I _do_ him neatly?"

Off they cantered gaily to the high road, exchanging merry and cheeringsalutations with the electors, who were thronging towards the town ingreat numbers and all variety of manner, group, and costume, some onfoot, some on horseback, and some on cars; the gayest show of holidayattire contrasting with the every-day rags of wretchedness; the freshcheek of health and beauty making gaunt misery look more appalling, andthe elastic step of vigorous youth outstripping the tardy pace of feebleage. Pedestrians were hurrying on in detachments of five or six--theequestrians in companies less numerous; sometimes the cavalier who couldboast a saddle carrying a woman on a pillion behind him. But saddle orpillion were not an indispensable accompaniment to this equestrian duo, for many a "bare-back" _garran_ carried his couple, his only harnessbeing a halter made of a hay-rope, which in time of need sometimesproves a substitute for "rack and manger, " for it is not uncommon inIreland to see the _garran_ nibbling the end of his bridle whenopportunity offers. The cars were in great variety; some bore smallkishes, [23] in which a woman and some children might be seen; others hada shake-down of clean straw to serve for cushions; while the better sortspread a feather-bed for greater comfort, covered by a patchwork quilt, the work of the "good woman" herself, whose own quilted petticoat viedin brightness with the calico roses on which she was sitting. The mostluxurious indulged still further in some arched branches of hazel, which, bent above the car in the fashion of a booth, bore anothercoverlid, by way of awning, and served for protection against theweather; but few there were who could indulge in such a luxury as thisof the "_chaise marine_, " which is the name the contrivance bears, butwhy, Heaven only knows. 

 [23] A large basket of coarse wicker-work, used mostly for carrying turf--_Anglice_, peat. 

The street of the town had its centre occupied at the broadest placewith a long row of cars, covered in a similar manner to the _chaisemarine_, a door or a shutter laid across underneath the awning, after the fashion of a counter, on which various articles weredisplayed for sale; for the occasion of the election was as good as afair to the small dealers, and the public were therefore favoured withthe usual opportunity of purchasing uneatable gingerbread, knives thatwould not cut, spectacles to increase blindness, and other articles ofequal usefulness. 

While the dealers here displayed their ware, and were vociferous indeclaring its excellence, noisy groups passed up and down on either sideof these ambulatory shops, discussing the merits of the candidates, predicting the result of the election, or giving an occasional cheer fortheir respective parties, with the twirl of a stick or the throwing upof a hat; while from the houses on both sides of the street the scrapingof fiddles, and the lilting of pipes, increased the mingled din. 

But the crowd was thickest and the uproar greatest in front of the innwhere Scatterbrain's committee sat, and before the house of Murphy, whogave up all his establishment to the service of the election, and whosestable-yard made a capital place of mustering for the tallies of Egan'selectors to assemble ere they marched to the poll. At last the hour foropening the poll struck, the inn poured forth the Scatterbrains, andMurphy's stable-yard the Eganites, the two bodies of electors utteringthundering shouts of defiance, as, with rival banners flying, theyjoined in one common stream, rushing to give their votes--for as fortheir _voices_, they were giving _them_ most liberally and strenuouslyalready. The dense crowd soon surrounded the hustings in front of thecourt-house, and the throes and heavings of this living mass resembled aturbulent sea lashed by a tempest:--but what sea is more unruly than anexcited crowd?--what tempest fiercer than the breath of politicalexcitement?

Conspicuous amongst those on the hustings were both the candidates, andtheir aiders and abettors on either side--O'Grady and Furlong, DickDawson and Tom Durfy for work, and Growling to laugh at them all. EdwardO'Connor was addressing the populace in a spirit-stirring appeal totheir pride and affections, stimulating them to support their tried andtrusty friend, and not yield the honour of their county either to fearsor favours of a stranger, nor copy the bad example which some (who oughtto blush) had set them, of betraying old friends and abandoning oldprinciples. Edward's address was cheered by those who heard it:--butbeing heard is not essential to the applause attendant on politicaladdresses, for those who do not hear cheer quite as much as those whodo. The old adage hath it, "Show me your company, and I'll tell you whoyou are;"--and in the spirit of the adage one might say, "Let me see thespeech-maker, an' I'll tell you what he says. " So when Edward O'Connorspoke, the boys welcomed him with a shout of "Ned of the Hill forever!"--and knowing to what tune his mouth would be opened, they cheeredaccordingly when he concluded. O'Grady, on evincing a desire to addressthem, was not so successful;--the moment he showed himself, taunts wereflung at him: but spite of this, attempting to frown down theirdissatisfaction, he began to speak; but he had not uttered six wordswhen his voice was drowned in the discordant yells of a trumpet. It isscarcely necessary to tell the reader that the performer was theidentical trumpeter of the preceding day, whom O'Grady had kicked sounmercifully, who, in indignation at his wrongs, had gone over to theenemy; and having, after a night's hard work, disengaged the cork whichAndy had crammed into his trumpet, appeared in the crowd ready to dobattle in the popular cause. --"Wait, " he cried, "till that savage of abaste of a Squire dares for to go for to spake!--won't I smother him!"Then he would put his instrument of vengeance to his lips, and produce ayell that made his auditors put their hands to their ears. Thus armed, he waited near the platform for O'Grady's speech, and put his threateffectually into execution. O'Grady saw whence the annoyance proceeded, and shook his fist at the delinquent, with protestations that the policeshould drag him from the crowd, if he dared to continue; but everythreat was blighted in the bud by the withering blast of a trumpet, which was regularly followed by a peal of laughter from the crowd. O'Grady stamped and swore with rage, and calling Furlong, sent him toinform the sheriff how riotous the crowd were, and requested him to havethe trumpeter seized. 

Furlong hurried off on his mission, and after a long search for thepotential functionary, saw him in a distant corner, engaged in whatappeared to be an urgent discussion between him and Murtough Murphy, whowas talking in the most jocular manner to the sheriff, who seemedanything but amused with his argumentative merriment. The fact was, Murphy, while pushing the interests of Egan with an energy unsurpassed, did it with all the utmost cheerfulness, and gave his opponents a laughin exchange for the point gained against them, and while he defeated, amused them. Furlong, after shoving and elbowing his way through thecrowd, suffering from heat and exertion, came _fussing_ up to thesheriff, wiping his face with a scented cambric pocket-handkerchief. Thesheriff and Murphy were standing close beside one of the polling-desks, and on Furlong's lisping out "Miste' Shewiff, " Murphy, recognising thevoice and manner, turned suddenly round, and with the most provokingcordiality addressed him thus, with a smile and a nod, "Ah! MisterFurlong, how d'ye do?--delighted to see you; here we are at it, sir, hammer and tongs--of course you are come to vote for Egan?"

Furlong, who intended to annihilate Murphy with an indignant repetitionof the provoking question put to him, threw as much of defiance as hecould in his namby-pamby manner, and exclaimed, "_I_ vote for Egan!"

"Thank you, sir, " said Murphy. "Record the vote, " added he to theclerk. 

There was loud laughter on one side, and anger as loud on the other, atthe way in which Murphy had entrapped Furlong, and cheated him intovoting against his own party. In vain the poor gull protested he never_meant_ to vote for Egan. 

"But you did it, " cried Murphy. 

"What the deuce have you done?" cried Scatterbrain's agent, in a rage. 

"Of course, they know I wouldn't vote that way, " said Furlong. "I_couldn't_ vote that way--it's a mistake, and I pwotest againstthe twick. "

"We've got the trick, and we'll keep it, however, " said Murphy. 

Scatterbrain's agent said 't was unfair, and desired the polling-clerknot to record the vote. 

"Didn't every one hear him say, '_I vote for Egan_'?" askedMurphy. 

"But he didn't mean it, sir, " said the agent. 

"I don't care what he meant, but I know he said it, " retorted Murphy;"and every one round knows he said it; and as I mean what I say myself, I suppose every other gentleman does the same--down with the vote, Mister Polling-clerk. "

A regular wrangle now took place between the two agents, amidst thelaughter of the bystanders, whose merriment was increased by Furlong'svehement assurances he did not mean to vote as Murphy wanted to make itappear he had; but the more he protested, the more the people laughed. This increased his energy in fighting out the point, until Scatterbrain'sagent recommended him to desist, for that he was only interrupting theirown voters from coming up. "Never mind now, sir, " said the agent, "I'llappeal to the assessor about that vote. "

"Appeal as much as you like, " said Murtough; "that vote is as dead as aherring to you. "

Furlong, finding further remonstrance unavailing, as regarded his vote, delivered to the sheriff the message of O'Grady, who was boiling overwith impatience, in the meantime, at the delay of his messenger, andanxiously expecting the arrival of sheriff and police to coerce thevillainous trumpeter and chastise the applauding crowd, which becameworse and worse every minute. 

They exhibited a new source of provocation to O'Grady, by exposing arat-trap hung at the end of a pole, with the caged vermin within, andvociferated "Rat, rat, " in the pauses of the trumpet. Scatterbrain, remembering the hearing they gave him the previous day, hoped tosilence them, and begged O'Grady to permit _him_ to address them;but the whim of the mob was up, and could not be easily diverted, andScatterbrain himself was hailed with the name of "Rat-catcher. "

"You cotch him--and I wish you joy of him!" cried one. 

"How much did you give for him?" shouted another. 

"What did you bait your thrap with?" roared a third. 

"A bit o' _threasury bacon_, " was the answer from a stentorian voiceamidst the multitude, who shouted with laughter at the apt rejoinder, which they reiterated from one end of the crowd to the other, and thecry of "threasury bacon" rang far and wide. 

Scatterbrain and O'Grady consulted together on the hustings what was tobe done, while Dick the Devil was throwing jokes to the crowd, andinflaming their mischievous merriment, and Growling looking on with anexpression of internal delight at the fun, uproar, and vexation aroundhim. It was just a dish to his taste and he devoured it with silentsatisfaction. 

"What the deuce keeps that sneaking dandy?" cried O'Grady to Scatterbrain. "He should have returned long ago. " Oh! could he have only known at thatmoment, that his sweet son-in-law elect was voting against them, whatwould have been the consequence?

Another exhibition, insulting to O'Grady, now appeared in the crowd--achimney-pot and weathercock, after the fashion of his mother's, wasstuck on a pole, and underneath was suspended an old coat, turned insideout; this double indication of his change, so peculiarly insulting, waselevated before the hustings, amidst the jeers and laughter of thepeople. O'Grady was nearly frantic--he rushed to the front of theplatform, he shook his fist at the mockery, poured every abusive epitheton its perpetrators, and swore he would head the police himself andclear the crowd. In reply, the crowd hooted, the rat-trap andweathercock were danced together after the fashion of Punch and Judy, tothe music of the trumpet; and another pole made its appearance, with apiece of bacon on it, and a placard bearing the inscription of "Treasurybacon, " all which Tom Durfy had run off to procure at a huckster's shopthe moment he heard the waggish answer, which he thus turned to account. 

"The military must be called out!" said O'Grady; and with these wordshe left the platform to seek the sheriff. 

Edward O'Connor, the moment he heard O'Grady's threat, quitted thehustings also, in company with old Growling. "What a savage anddangerous temper that man has!" said Edward; "calling for the militarywhen the people have committed no outrage to require such interference. "

"They have poked up the bear with their poles, sir, and it is likelyhe'll give them a hug before he's done with them, " answered the doctor. 

"But what need of military?" indignantly exclaimed Edward. "The peopleare only going on with the noise and disturbance common to any election, and the chances are, that savage man may influence the sheriff toprovoke the people, by the presence of soldiers, to some act whichwould not have taken place but for their interference; and thus theythemselves originate the offence which they are forearmed with power tochastise. In England such extreme measures are never resorted to untilnecessity compels them. How I have envied Englishmen, when, on theoccasion of assizes, every soldier is marched from the town while thejudge is sitting; in Ireland the place of trial bristles with bayonets!How much more must a people respect and love the laws, whose own purityand justice are their best safeguard--whose inherent majesty issufficient for their own protection! The sword of justice should neverneed the assistance of the swords of dragoons; and in the election oftheir representatives, as well as at judicial sittings, a people shouldbe free from military despotism. "

"But, as an historian, my dear young friend, " said the doctor, "I neednot remind you, that dragoons have been considered 'good lookers-on' inIreland since the days of Strafford. "

"Ay!" said Edward; "and scandalous it is, that the abuses of theseventeenth century should be perpetuated in the nineteenth. [24] Whilethose who govern show, by the means they adopt for supporting theirauthority, that their rule requires undue force to uphold it, theytacitly teach resistance to the people, and their practices imply thatthe resistance is righteous. "

 [24] When Strafford's infamous project of the wholesale robbery of Connaught was put in practice, not being quite certain of his juries, he writes that he will send three hundred horse to the province during the proceedings, as "good lookers-on. "

"My dear Master Ned, " said the doctor, "you're a patriot, and I'm sorryfor you; you inherit the free opinions of your namesake 'of the hill, 'of blessed memory; with such sentiments you may make a very good Irishbarrister, but you'll never be an Irish judge--and as for a silk gown, 'faith you may leave the wearing of _that_ to your wife, for stuffis all that will ever adorn your shoulders. "

"Well, I would rather have stuff there than in my head, " answeredEdward. 

"Very epigrammatic, indeed, Master Ned, " said the doctor. "Let us makea distich of it, " added he, with a chuckle; "for, of a verity, some ofthe K. C. 's of our times are but dunces. Let's see--how will it go?"

Edward dashed off this couplet in a moment--

 "Of modern king's counsel this truth may be said, They have _silk_ on their shoulders, and _stuff_ in their head. "

"Neat enough, " said the doctor; "but you might contrive more sting init--something to the tune of the impossibility of making 'a silk purseout of a sow's ear, ' but the facility of manufacturing silk gowns outof _bores'_ heads. "

"That's out of your bitter pill-box, Doctor, " said Ned, smiling. 

"Put it into rhyme, Ned--and set it to music--and dedicate it to thebar mess, and see how you'll rise in your profession! Good bye--I willbe back again to see the fun as soon as I can, but I must go now andvisit an old woman who is in doubt whether she stands most in need ofme or the priest. It's wonderful, how little people think of the otherworld till they are going to leave this; and, with all their praises ofheaven, how very anxious they are to stay out of it as long as theycan. "

With this bit of characteristic sarcasm, the doctor and Edwardseparated. 

Edward had hardly left the hustings, when Murphy hurried on theplatform and asked for him. 

"He left a few minutes ago, " said Tom Durfy. 

"Well, I dare say he's doing good wherever he is, " said Murtough; "Iwanted to speak to him, but when he comes back send him to me. In themeantime, Tom, run down and bring up a batch of voters--we're getting alittle ahead, I think, with the bothering I'm giving them up there, andnow I want to push them with good strong tallies--run down to the yard, like a good fellow, and march them up. "

Off posted Tom Durfy on his mission, and Murphy returned to thecourt-house. 

Tom, on reaching Murphy's house, found a strange posse of O'Grady'sparty hanging round the place, and one of the fellows had backed a caragainst the yard gate which opened on the street, and was the outlet forEgan's voters. By way of excuse for this, the car was piled withcabbages for sale, and a couple of very unruly pigs were tethered to theshafts, and the strapping fellow who owned all kept guard over them. Tomimmediately told him he should leave that place, and an altercationcommenced; but even an electioneering dispute could not but savour offun and repartee, between Paddies. 

"Be off!" said Tom. 

"Sure I can't be off till the market's over, " was the answer. 

"Well, you must take your car out o' this. "

"Indeed now, you'll let me stay, Misther Durfy. "

"Indeed I won't. "

"Arrah! what harm?"

"You're stopping up the gate on purpose, and you must go. "

"Sure your honour wouldn't spile my stand!"

"'Faith, I'll spoil more than your stand, if you don't leave that. "

"Not finer cabbage in the world. "

"Go out o' that now, 'while your shoes are good, '"[25] said Tom, seeinghe had none; for, in speaking of shoes, Tom had no intention of alludingto the word _choux_, and thus making a French pun upon the _cabbage_--forTom did not understand French, but rather despised it as a jack-a-dandyacquirement. 

 [25] A saying among the Irish peasantry--meaning there is danger in delay. 

"Sure, you wouldn't ruin my market, Misther Durfy. "

"None of your humbugging--but be off at once, " said Tom, whose toneindicated he was _very much in earnest_. 

"Not a nicer slip of a pig in the market than the same pigs--I'mexpectin' thirty shillin's apiece for them. "

"'Faith, you'll get more than thirty shillings, " cried Tom, "in lessthan thirty seconds, if you don't take your dirty cabbage andblackguard pigs out o' that!"

"Dirty cabbages!" cried the fellow, in a tone of surprise. 

The order to depart was renewed. 

"Blackguard pigs!" cried Paddy, in affected wonder. "Ah, Masther Tom, one would think it was afther dinner you wor. "

"What do you mean, you rap?--do you intend to say I'm drunk?"

"Oh no, sir! But if it's not afther dinner wid you, I think youwouldn't turn up your nose at bacon and greens. "

"Oh, with all your joking, " said Tom, laughing, "you won't find mea chicken to pluck for your bacon and greens, my boy; so, start!--vanish!--disperse!--my bacon-merchant. "

While this dialogue was going forward, several cars were gathered roundthe place, with a seeming view to hem in Egan's voters, and interrupttheir progress to the poll; but the gate of the yard suddenly opened, and the fellows within soon upset the car which impeded their egress, gave freedom to the pigs, who used their liberty in eating the cabbages, while their owner was making cause with his party of O'Gradyites againstthe outbreak of Egan's men. The affair was not one of importance; thenumbers were not sufficient to constitute a good row--it was but ahustling affair, after all, and a slight scrimmage enabled Tom Durfy tohead his men in a rush to the poll. 

The polling was now prosecuted vigorously on both sides, each partyanxious to establish a majority on the first day; and of course theusual practices for facilitating their own, and retarding theiropponents' progress were resorted to. 

Scatterbrain's party, to counteract the energetic movement of theenemy's voters and Murphy's activity, got up a mode of interruptionseldom made use of, but of which they availed themselves on the presentoccasion. It was determined to put the oath of allegiance to all theRoman Catholics, by which some loss of time to the Eganite party waseffected. 

This gave rise to odd scenes and answers, occasionally:--some of thefellows did not know what the oath of allegiance meant; some did notknow whether there might not be a scruple of conscience against makingit; others, indignant at what they felt to be an insulting mode ofaddress, on the part of the person who said to them, in a tone savouringof supremacy--"_You're_ a Roman Catholic?"--would not answer immediately, and gave dogged looks and sometimes dogged answers; and it requiredaddress on the part of Egan's agents to make them overcome suchfeelings, and expedite the work of voting. At last the same herculeanfellow who gave O'Grady the fierce answer about the _blunderbuss tenure_he enjoyed, came up to vote, and fairly bothered the querist with hisready replies, which, purposely, were never to the purpose. Theexamination ran nearly thus:--

"You're a Roman Catholic?"

"Am I?" said the fellow. 

"Are you not?" demanded the agent. 

"You say I am, " was the answer. 

"Come, sir, answer--What's your religion?"

"The thrue religion. "

"What religion is that?"

"My religion. "

"And what's _your_ religion?"

"My mother's religion. "

"And what was your mother's religion?"

"_She tuk whisky in her tay. _"

"Come, now, I'll find you out, as cunning as you are, " said the agent, piqued into an encounter of wits with this fellow, whose baffling ofevery question pleased the crowd. 

"You bless yourself, don't you?"

"When I'm done with, I think I ought. "

"What place of worship do you go to?"

"The most convaynient. "

"But of what persuasion are you?"

"My persuasion is that you won't find it out. "

"What is your belief?"

"My belief is that _you're_ puzzled. "

"Do you confess?"

"Not to you. "

"Come! now I have you. Who would you send for if you were likely todie?"

"Doctor Growlin'. "

"Not for the priest?"

"I must first get a messenger. "

"Confound your quibbling!--tell me, then, what your opinions are--yourconscientious opinions I mean. "

"They are the same as my landlord's. "

"And what are your landlord's opinions?"

"Faix, his opinion is, that I won't pay him the last half-year's rint;and I'm of the same opinion myself. "

A roar of laughter followed this answer, and dumb-foundered the agentfor a time; but, angered at the successful quibbling of the sturdy andwily fellow before him, he at last declared, with much severity ofmanner, that he _must_ have a direct reply. "I insist, sir, on youranswering, at once, _are_ you a Roman Catholic?"

"I am, " said the fellow. 

"And could not you say so at once?" repeated the officer. 

"You never axed me, " returned the other. 

"I did, " said the officer. 

"Indeed, you didn't. You said I was a great many things, but you never_axed_ me--you wor dhrivin' _crass_ words and _cruked_ questions at me, and I gev you answers to match them, for sure I thought it was mannersto cut out my _behavor_ on your patthern. "

"Take the oath, sir. "

"Where am I to take it to, sir?" inquired the provoking blackguard. 

The clerk was desired to "swear him, " without further notice beingtaken of his impertinent answer. 

"I hope the oath is not _woighty_, sir, for my conscience istindher since the last _alibi_ I swore. "

The business of the interior was now suspended for a time by the soundsof fierce tumult which arose from without. Some rushed from thecourt-house to the platform outside, and beheld the crowd in a state ofgreat excitement, beating back the police, who had been engaged inendeavouring to seize the persons and things which had offended O'Grady;and the police falling back for support on a party of military whichO'Grady had prevailed on the sheriff to call out. The sheriff was aweak, irresolute man, and was over-persuaded by such words as "mob" and"riot, " and breaches of the peace being _about to be_ committed, if theruffians were not checked beforehand. The wisdom of _preventivemeasures_ was preached, and the rest of the hackneyed phrases wereparaded, which brazen-faced and iron-handed oppressors are only toofamiliar with. 

The people were now roused, and thoroughly defeated the police, whowere forced to fly to the lines of the military party for protection;having effected this object, the crowd retained their position, and didnot attempt to assault the soldiers, though a very firm and louringfront was presented to them, and shouts of defiance against the"Peelers"[26] rose loud and long. 

 [26] The name given to the police by the people--the force being first established by Sir Robert Peel, then Mr. Peel, Secretary for Ireland. 

"A round of ball cartridge would cool their courage, " said O'Grady. 

The English officer in command of the party, looking with wonder andreproach upon him, asked if _he_ had the command of the party. 

"No, sir;--the sheriff, of course;--but if I were in his place, I'dsoon disperse the rascals. "

"Did you ever witness the _effect_ of a fusilade, sir?" inquiredthe officer. 

"No, sir, " said O'Grady, gruffly; "but I suppose I know pretty wellwhat it is. "

"For the sake of humanity, sir, I hope you do not, or I am willing tobelieve you would not talk so lightly of it; but it is singular howmuch fonder civilians are of urging measures that end in blood, thanthose whose profession is arms, and who know how disastrous is theiruse. "

The police were ordered to advance again and seize the "ringleaders:"they obeyed unwillingly; but being saluted with some stones, theirindividual wrath was excited, and they advanced to chastise the mob, who again drove them back; and a nearer approach to the soldiers wasmade by the crowd in the scuffle which ensued. 

"Now, will you fire?" said O'Grady to the sheriff. 

The sheriff, who was a miserable coward, was filled with dread at thethreatening aspect of the mob, and wished to have his precious personunder shelter before hostilities commenced; so, with pallid lips, andhis teeth chattering with fear, he exclaimed:--

"No! no! no!--don't fire--don't fire--don't be precipitate: besides, Ihaven't read the Riot Act. "

"There's no necessity for firing, I should say, " said the captain. 

"I thought not, captain--I hope not, captain, " said the sheriff, who nowassumed a humane tone. "Think of the effusion of blood, my dear sir, "said he to O'Grady, who was grinning like a fiend all the time--"thesacrifice of human life--I couldn't, sir--I can't, sir--besides, theRiot Act--haven't it about me--must be read, you know, Mister O'Grady. "

"Not always, " said O'Grady, fiercely. 

"But the inquiry is always very strict after, if it is not, sir--Ishould not like the effusion of human blood, sir, unless the Riot Actwas read, and the thing done regularly, --don't think I care for thed----d rascals a button, sir, --only the regularity, you know; and theeffusion of human blood is serious, and the inquiry, too, without theRiot Act. Captain, would you oblige me to fall back a little closerround the court-house, and maintain the freedom of election? Besides, the Riot Act is up-stairs in my desk. The court-house must be protected, you know, and I just want to run up-stairs for the Riot Act; I'll bedown again in a moment. Captain, do oblige me--draw your men a _leetle_closer round the court-house. "

"I'm in a better position here, sir, " said the captain. 

"I thought you were under my command, sir, " said the sheriff. 

"Under your command to fire, sir, but the choice of position rests withme; and we are stronger where we are; the court-house is completelycovered, and while my men are under arms here, you may rely on it thecrowd is completely in check without firing a shot. "

Off ran the sheriff to the court-house. 

"You're saving of your gunpowder, I see, sir, " said O'Grady to thecaptain, with a sardonic grin. 

"You seem to be equally sparing of your humanity, sir, " returned thecaptain. 

"God forbid I should be afraid of a pack of ruffians, " said O'Grady. 

"Or I of a single one, " returned the captain, with a look of sterncontempt. 

There is no knowing what this bitter bandying of hard words might haveled to, had it not been interrupted by the appearance of the sheriff atone of the windows of the court-house; there, with the Riot Act in hishand, he called out:--

"Now I've read it--fire away, boys--fire away!" and all his compunctionabout the effusion of blood vanished the moment his own miserablecarcass was safe from harm. Again he waved the Riot Act from the window, and vociferated, "Fire away, boys!" as loud as his frog-like voicepermitted. 

"Now, sir, you're ordered to fire, " said O'Grady to the captain. 

"I'll not obey that order, sir, " said the captain; "the man is out ofhis senses with fear, and I'll not obey such a serious command from amadman. "

"Do you dare disobey the orders of the sheriff, sir?" thunderedO'Grady. 

"I am responsible for my act, sir, " said the captain--"seriouslyresponsible; but I will not slaughter unarmed people until I seefurther and fitter cause. "

The sheriff had vanished--he was nowhere to be seen--and O'Grady as amagistrate had now the command. Seeing the cool and courageous man hehad to deal with in the military chief, he determined to push mattersto such an extremity that he should be forced, in self-defence, tofire. With this object in view he ordered a fresh advance of the policeupon the people, and in this third affair matters assumed a moreserious aspect; sticks and stones were used with more effect, and thetwo parties being nearer to each other, the missiles meant only for thepolice overshot their mark and struck the soldiers, who bore theirpainful situation with admirable patience. 

"Now will you fire, sir?" said O'Grady to the officer. 

"If I fire now, sir, I am as likely to kill the police as the people;withdraw your police first, sir, and then I will fire. "

This was but reasonable--so reasonable, that even O'Grady, enragedalmost to madness as he was, could not gainsay it; and he went forwardhimself to withdraw the police force. O'Grady's presence increased therage of the mob, whose blood was now thoroughly up, and as the policefell back they were pressed by the infuriated people, who now beganalmost to disregard the presence of the military, and poured down in aresistless stream upon them. 

O'Grady repeated his command to the captain, who, finding matters thusdriven to extremity, saw no longer the possibility of avoidingbloodshed; and the first preparatory word of the fatal order was given, the second on his lips, and the long file of bright muskets flashed inthe sun ere they should quench his light for ever to some, and carrydarkness to many a heart and hearth, when a young and handsome man, mounted on a noble horse, came plunging and ploughing his way throughthe crowd, and, rushing between the half-levelled muskets and those whoin another instant would have fallen their victims, he shouted in avoice whose noble tone carried to its hearers involuntary obedience, "Stop!--for God's sake, stop!" Then wheeling his horse suddenly round, he charged along the advancing front of the people, plunging his horsefiercely upon them, and waving them back with his hand, enforcing hiscommands with words as well as actions. The crowd fell back as hepressed upon them with fiery horsemanship unsurpassable by an Arab; andas his dark clustering hair streamed about his noble face, pale fromexcitement, and with flashing eyes, he was a model worthy of the bestdays of Grecian art--ay, and he had a soul worthy of the most glorioustimes of Grecian liberty!

It was Edward O'Connor. 

"Fire!" cried O'Grady again. 

The gallant soldier, touched by the heroism of O'Connor, and roused bythe brutality of O'Grady beyond his patience, in the excitement of themoment, was urged beyond the habitual parlance of a gentleman, andswore vehemently, "I'll be _damned_ if I do! I wouldn't run therisk of shooting that noble fellow for all the magistrates in yourcounty. "

O'Connor had again turned round, and rode up to the military party, having heard the word "fire!" repeated. 

"For mercy's sake, sir, don't fire, and I pledge you my soul the crowdshall disperse. "

"Ay!" cried O'Grady, "they won't obey the laws nor the magistrates; butthey'll listen fast enough to a d----d rebel like you. "

"Liar and ruffian!" exclaimed Edward. "I'm a better and more loyalsubject than you, who provoke resistance to the laws you should makehonoured. "

At the word "liar, " O'Grady, now quite frenzied, attempted to seize amusket from a soldier beside him; and had he succeeded in obtainingpossession of it, Edward O'Connor's days had been numbered; but thesoldier would not give up his firelock, and O'Grady, intent on immediatevengeance, then rushed upon Edward, and seizing him by the leg, attempted to unhorse him; but Edward was too firm in his seat for this, and a struggle ensued. 

The crowd, fearing Edward was about to fall a victim, raised a fierceshout, and were about to advance, when the captain, with admirablepresence of mind, seized O'Grady, dragged him away from his hold, andgave freedom to Edward, who instantly used it again to charge theadvancing line of the mob, and drive them back. 

"Back, boys, back!" he cried, "don't give your enemies a triumph bybeing disorderly. Disperse--retire into houses, let nothing tempt youto riot--collect round your tally-rooms, and come up quietly to thepolling--and you will yet have a peaceful triumph. "

The crowd, obeying, gave three cheers for "Ned-o'-the-Hill, " and thedense mass, which could not be awed, and dreaded not the engines ofwar, melted away before the breath of peace. 

As they retired on one side, the soldiers were ordered to theirquarters on the other, while their captain and Edward O'Connor stood inthe midst; but ere they separated, these two, with charity in theirsouls, waved their hands towards each other in token of amity, andparted, verily, in friendship. 

CHAPTER XX

After the incidents just recorded, of course great confusion andexcitement existed, during which O'Grady was forced back into thecourt-house in a state bordering on insanity. Inflamed as his furiouspassions had been to the top of their bent, and his thirst of revengestill remaining unslaked, foiled in all his movements, and flung back asit were into the seething cauldron of his own hellish temper, he was apitiable sight, foaming at the mouth like a wild animal, and utteringthe most horrid imprecations. On Edward O'Connor principally his cursesfell, with denunciations of immediate vengeance, and the punishment ofdismissal from the service was prophesied on oath for the Englishcaptain. The terrors of a court-martial gleamed fitfully through thefrenzied mind of the raving Squire for the soldier; and for O'Connor, instant death at his own hands was his momentary cry. 

"Find the rascal for me, " he exclaimed, "that I may call him out andshoot him like a dog--yes, by ----, a dog--a dog; I'm disgraced while helives--I wish the villain had three lives that I might take them all atonce--all--all!" and he stretched out his hands as he spoke, and graspedat the air as if in imagination he clutched the visionary lives hisbloodthirsty wishes conjured up. 

Edward, as soon as he saw the crowd dispersed, returned to the hustingsand sought Dick Dawson, that he might be in readiness to undertake, onhis part, the arrangement of the hostile meeting, to which he knew heshould be immediately called. "Let it be over, my dear Dick, as soon aspossible, " said Edward; "it's not a case in which delay can be of anyservice; the insult was mortal between us, and the sooner expiated by ameeting the better. "

"Don't be so agitated, Ned, " said Dick; "fair and easy, man--fair andeasy--keep yourself cool. "

"Dear Dick--I'll be cool on the ground, but not till then--I want themeeting over before my father hears of the quarrel; I'm his only child, Dick, and you know how he loves me!"

He wrung Dick's hand as he spoke, and his eye glistened with tenderness;but with the lightning quickness of thought all gentle feeling vanishedas he saw Scatterbrain struggling his way towards him, and read in hiseye the purport of his approach. He communicated to Edward his object inseeking him, and was at once referred to Dawson, who instantly retiredwith him and arranged an immediate meeting. This was easily done, asthey had their pistols with them since the duel in the morning; and ifthere be those who think it a little too much of a good thing to havetwo duels in one day, pray let them remember it was election time, andeven in sober England that period often gives rise to personalitieswhich call for the intervention of the code of honour. Only in Irelandthe thing is sooner over. We seldom have three columns of a newspaperfilled with notes on the subject, numbered from 1 to 25. [27] Gentlemandon't consider whether it is too soon or too late to fight, or whether agentleman is perfectly entitled to call him out or not. The title inIreland is generally considered sufficient in the _will_ to do it, andfew there would wait for the poising of a very delicately balanced scaleof etiquette before going to the ground; they would be more likely tofight first, and leave the world to argue about the niceties after. 

 [27] Just such a lengthy correspondence had appeared in the London journals when the first edition of this book was published. 

In the present instance a duel was unavoidable, and it was to be feareda mortal one, for deadly insult had been given on both sides. 

The rumour of the hostile meeting flew like wildfire through the town, and when the parties met in a field about a quarter of a mile beyondthe bridge, an anxious crowd was present. The police were obliged to bein strong force on the ground to keep back the people, who were notnow, as an hour before, in the town, in uproarious noise and action, but still as death; not a murmur was amongst them; the excitement oflove for the noble young champion, whose life was in danger for hiscare of _them_, held them spell-bound in a tranquillity almostfearful. 

The aspect of the two principals was in singular contrast. On the oneside a man burning for revenge, who, to use a common but terribleparlance, desired to "wash out the dishonour put upon him in blood. " Theother was there, regretting that cause existed for the awfularbitrament, and only anxious to defend his own, not take another'slife. To sensitive minds the reaction is always painful of havinginsulted another, when the excitement is over which prompted it. Whenthe hot blood which inflamed the brain runs in cooler currents, the manof feeling always regrets, if he does not reproach himself with, havingurged his fellow-man to break the commandments of the Most High, anddeface, perhaps annihilate, the form that was moulded in His image. Thewords "liar and ruffian" haunted Edward's mind reproachfully; but thenthe provocation--"rebel!"--no gentleman could brook it. Because hiscommiseration for a people had endeared him to them, was he to be called"_rebel_"? Because, at the risk of his own life, he had preservedperhaps scores, and prevented an infraction of the law, was he to becalled "_rebel_"? He stood acquitted before his own conscience:--afterall, the most terrible bar before which he can be called in _this_world. 

The men were placed upon their ground, and the word to fire given. O'Grady, in his desire for vengeance, deliberately raised his pistolwith deadly aim, and Edward was thus enabled to fire first, yet withsuch cool precision, that his shot took effect as he intended; O'Grady'sarm was ripped up from the wrist to the elbow; but so determined was hiswill, and so firm his aim, that the wound, severe as it was, producedbut a slight twitch in his hand, which threw it up slightly, and savedEdward's life, for the ball passed through his hat _just_ above hishead. 

O'Grady's arm instantly after dropped to his side, the pistol fell fromhis hand, and he staggered, for the pain of the wound was extreme. Hissecond ran to his assistance. 

"It is only in the arm, " said O'Grady, firmly, though his voice waschanged by the agony he suffered; "give me another pistol. "

Dick at the same moment was beside Edward. 

"You're not touched, " he said. 

Edward coolly pointed to his hat. 

"Too much powder, " said Dick; "I thought so when his pistols wereloaded. "

"No, " said Edward, "it was my shot; I saw his hand twitch. "

Scatterbrain demanded of Dick another shot on the part of O'Grady. 

"By all means, " was the answer, and he handed a fresh pistol to Edward. "To give the devil his due, " said Dick, "he has great pluck, for youhit him hard--see how pale he looks--I don't think he can hurt you muchthis time--but watch him well, my dear Ned. "

The seconds withdrew; but with all O'Grady's desperate courage, he couldnot lift the pistol with his right arm, which, though hastily bound in ahandkerchief, was bleeding profusely, and racked with torture. Onfinding his right hand powerless, such was his unflinching courage, thathe took the pistol in his left; this of course impaired his power ofaim, and his nerve was so shattered by his bodily suffering, that hispistol was discharged before coming to the level, and Edward saw the sodtorn up close beside his foot. He then, of course, fired in the air. O'Grady would have fallen but for the immediate assistance of hisfriends; he was led from the ground and placed in a carriage, and it wasnot until Edward O'Connor mounted his horse to ride away, that the crowdmanifested their feelings. Then three tremendous cheers arose; and theshouts of their joy and triumph reached the wounded man as he was drivenslowly from the ground. 

CHAPTER XXI

The Widow Flanagan had long ago determined that, whenever the electionshould take place, she would take advantage of the great influx ofvisitors that event would produce, and give a grand party. Herpreparations were all made to secure a good muster of her countryfriends, when once the day of nomination was fixed; and after theelection began, she threw out all her hooks and lines in everydirection, to catch every straggler worth having, whom the electionbrought into the town. It required some days to do this; and it was notuntil the eve of the fifth, that her house was turned upside down andinside out for the reception of the numerous guests whose company sheexpected. 

The toil of the day's election was over; the gentlemen had dined andrefreshed themselves with creature comforts; the vicissitudes, andtricks, and chances of the last twelve hours were canvassed--when thestriking of many a clock, or the consultation of the pocket-dial, warnedthose who were invited to Mrs. O'Flanagan's party, that it was time towash off the dust of the battle-field from their faces, and mount freshlinen and cambric. Those who were pleased to call themselves "goodfellows" declared for "another bottle;" the faint-hearted swore that anautograph invitation from Venus herself to the heathen Olympus, withnectar and ambrosia for tea and bread-and-butter, could not tempt themfrom the Christian enjoyment of a feather-bed after the fag of such aday; but the _preux chevaliers_--those who did deserve to win a fairlady--shook off sloth and their morning trousers, and taking to tightsand activity, hurried to the party of the buxom widow. 

The widow was in her glory; hospitable, she enjoyed receiving herfriends, --mirthful, she looked forward to a long night of downrightsport, --coquettish, she would have good opportunity of letting Tom Durfysee how attractive she was to the men, --while from the women her love ofgossip and scandal (was there ever a lady in her position without it?)would have ample gratification in the accumulated news of the county oftwenty miles round. She had but one _large_ room at her command, and_that_ was given up to the dancing; and being cleared of tables, chairs, and carpet, could not be considered by Mrs. Flanagan as a properreception-room for her guests, who were, therefore, received in asmaller apartment, where tea and coffee, toast and muffins, ladies andgentlemen, were all smoking-hot together, and the candles on themantel-piece trickling down rivulets of fat in the most sympatheticmanner, under the influence of the gentle sighing of a broken pane ofglass, which the head of an inquiring youth in the street had stove in, while flattening his nose against it in the hope of getting a glimpse ofthe company through the opening in the window-curtain. 

At last, when the room could hold no more, the company were drafted offto the dancing-room, which had only long deal forms placed against thewall to rest the weary after the exertions of the jig. The aforesaidforms, by-the-bye, were borrowed from the chapel; the old wigsby who hadthe care of them for some time doubted the propriety of the sacredproperty being put to such a profane use, until the widow's argumentsconvinced him it was quite right, after she had given him atenpenny-piece. As the dancing-room could not boast of a lustre, thedeficiency was supplied by tin sconces hung against the wall; for ormulubranches are not expected to be plenty in the provinces. But let thewidow be heard for herself, as she bustled through her guests and caughta critical glance at her arrangements: "What's that you're faultingnow?--is it my deal seats without cushions? Ah! you're a _lazy Larry_, Bob Larkin. Cock you up with a cushion indeed! if you sit the less, you'll dance the more. Ah, Matty, I see you're eyeing my tin sconcesthere; well, sure they have them at the county ball, when candlesticksare scarce, and what would you expect grander from a poor lone woman?besides, we must have plenty of lights, or how could the beaux see thegirls?--though I see, Harry Cassidy, by your sly look, that _you_ thinkthey look as well in the dark--ah! you _divil_!" and she slapped hisshoulder as she ran past. "Ah! Mister Murphy, I'm delighted to see you;what kept you so late?--the election to be sure. Well, we're beatingthem, ain't we? Ah! the old country for ever. I hope Edward O'Connorwill be here. Come, begin the dance; there's the piper and the fiddlerin the corner as idle as a mile-stone without a number. Tom Durfy, don'task me to dance, for I'm engaged for the next four sets. "

"Oh! but the first to me, " said Tom. 

"Ah! yis, Tom, I was; but then, you know, I couldn't refuse the strangerfrom Dublin, and the English captain that will be there by-and-by; he'sa nice man, too, and long life to him, wouldn't fire on the people theother day; I vow to the Virgin, all the women in the room ought to kisshim when he comes in. Ah, doctor! there you are; there's Mrs. Gubbins inthe corner dying to have a chat with you; go over to her. Who's that_taazing_ the piano there? Ah! James Reddy, it's _you_, I see. I hopeit's in tune; 't is only four months since the tuner was here. I hopeyou've a new song for us, James. The tuner is so scarce, Mrs. Riley, inthe country--not like Dublin; but we poor country people, you know, mustput up with what we can get; not like you citizens, who has lashings ofluxuries as easy as peas. " Then, in a confidential whisper, she said, "Ihope your daughter has practised the new piece well to-day, for Icouldn't be looking after her, you know, to-day, being in such a bustlewith my party; I was just like a dog in a fair, in and out everywhere;but I _hope_ she's _perfect_ in the piece;" then, still moreconfidentially, she added, "for _he's_ here--ah! I _wish it was_, Mrs. Riley;" then, with a nod and a wink, off she rattled through the roomwith a word for everybody. 

The Mrs. Riley, to whom she was so confidential, was a friend fromDublin, an atrociously vulgar woman, with a more vulgar daughter, whowere on a visit with Mrs. Flanagan. The widow and the mother thoughtMurtough Murphy would be a good speculation for the daughter to "cockher cap at" (to use their own phrase), and with this view the visit tothe country was projected. But matters did not prosper; Murphy was notmuch of a marrying man; and if ever he might be caught in the toils ofHymen, some frank, joyous, unaffected, dashing girl would have been theonly one likely to serve a writ on the jovial attorney's heart. Now, Miss Riley was, to use Murtough Murphy's own phrase, "a batch of brassand a stack of affectation, " and the airs she attempted to play off onthe country folk (Murphy in particular) only made her an object for hismischievous merriment; as an example, we may as well touch on onelittle incident _en passant_. 

The widow had planned one day a walking party to a picturesque ruin, not far from the town, and determined that Murphy should give his armto Miss Riley; for the party was arranged in couples, with a mostdeadly design on the liberty of the attorney. At the appointed hour allhad arrived but Murphy; the widow thought it a happy chance, so shehurried off the party, leaving Miss Riley to wait and follow under hisescort. In about a quarter of an hour he came, having met the widow inthe street, who sent him back for Miss Riley. Now Murtough saw the trapwhich was intended for him, and thought it fair to make what fun hecould of the affair, and being already sickened by various disgustingexhibitions of the damsel's affectation, he had the less scruple of"taking her down a peg, " as he said himself. 

When Murtough reached the house and asked for Miss Riley, he was usheredinto the little drawing-room; and there was that very full-blown younglady, on a chair before the fire, her left foot resting on the fender, her right crossed over it, and her body thrown back in a recliningattitude, with a sentimental droop of the head over a greasy novel: herfigure was _rather_ developed by her posture, indeed more so than MissRiley quite intended, for her ankles were not unexceptionable, and theposition of her feet revealed rather more. A bonnet and green veil layon the hearth-rug, and her shawl hung over the handle of thefire-shovel. When Murphy entered, he was received with a faint "How d'do?"

"Pretty well, I thank you--how are you?" said Murphy, in his rollickingtone. 

"Oh! Miste' Murphy, you are so odd. "

"Odd, am I--how am I odd?"

"Oh! _so_ odd. "

"Well, you'd better put on your bonnet and come walk, and we can talkof my oddity after. "

"Oh, indeed, I _cawn't_ walk. "

"Can't walk!" exclaimed Murphy. "Why can't you walk? I was sent foryou. "

"'Deed I cawn't. "

"Ah, now!" said Murphy, giving her a little tender poke of hisforefinger on the shoulder. 

"Don't, Mister Murphy, _pray_ don't. "

"But why won't you walk?"

"I'm too delicate. "

Murphy uttered a very long "Oh!!!!!"

"'Deed I am, Miste' Murphy, though you may disbelieve it. "

"Well--a nice walk is the best thing in the world for the health. Comealong!"

"Cawn't indeed; a gentle walk on a terrace, or a shadowy avenue, is allvery well--the Rotunda Gardens, for instance. "

"Not forgetting the military bands that play there, " said Murphy, "together with the officers of all the barracks in Dublin, clinkingtheir sabres at their heels along the gravel walks, all for the smallcharge of a fi'penny bit. "

Miss Riley gave a reproachful look and shrug at the vulgar mention of a"fi'penny bit, " which Murphy purposely said to shock her "Brummagemgentility. "

"How can you be so odd, Miste' Murphy?" she said. "I don't joke, indeed; a gentle walk--I repeat it--is all very well; but these horridrough country walks--these _masculine_ walks, I may say--are notconsistent with a delicate frame like mine. "

"A delicate frame!" said Murtough. "'Faith, I'll tell you what it is, Miss Riley, " said he, standing bolt upright before her, plunging hishands into his pockets, and fixing his eyes on her feet, which stillmaintained their original position on the fender--"I'll tell you what itis, Miss Riley; by the _vartue_ of my oath, if your _other_ leg is amatch for the one I see, the _divil_ a harm a trot from this to Dublinwould do you!"

Miss Riley gave a faint scream, and popped her legs under her chair, while Murphy ran off in a shout of laughter, and joined the party, towhom he made no secret of his joke. 

But all this did not damp Miss Riley's hopes of winning him. Shechanged her plan; and seeing he did not bow to what she considered thesupremacy of her very elegant manners, she set about feigning at onceadmiration and dread of him. She would sometimes lift her eyes toMurtough with a languishing expression, and declare she never knew anyone she was so afraid of; but even this double attack on his vanitycould not turn Murphy's flank, and so a very laughable flirtation wenton between them, he letting her employ all the enginery of her sexagainst him, with a mischievous enjoyment in her blindness at notseeing she was throwing away her powder and shot. 

But to return to the party; a rattling country dance called out at oncethe energies of the piper, the fiddler, and the ladies and gentlemen, and left those who had more activity in their heads than their heels tosit on the forms in the background and exercise their tongues in openscandal of their mutual friends and acquaintances under cover of themusic, which prevented the most vigorous talker from being heard furtherthan his or her next-door neighbour. Dr. Growling had gone over to Mrs. Gubbins', as desired, and was buried deep in gossip. 

"What an extraordinary affair that was about Miss O'Grady, doctor. "

"Very, ma'am. "

"In the man's bed she was, I hear. "

"So the story goes, ma'am. "

"And they tell me, doctor, that when her father, that _immaculate_madman--God keep us from harm!--said to poor Mrs. O'Grady, in a greatrage, 'Where have you brought up your daughters to go to, ma'am?' saidhe; and she, poor woman, said, 'To church, my dear, ' thinking it was thedifferent religion the Saracen was after; so, says he, '_Church_, indeed! there's the church she's gone to, ma'am, ' says he, turning downa quilted counterpane. "

"Are you sure it was not Marseilles, ma'am?" said the doctor. 

"Well, whatever it was, '_There's_ the church she is in, ' says he, pulling her out of the bed. "

"Out of the bed?" repeated the doctor. 

"Out of the bed, sir!"

"Then _her_ church was in the Diocese of _Down_, " said thedoctor. 

"That's good, docthor--indeed, that's good. 'She was caught in bed, 'says I; and 'It's the diocese of _Down_, ' says _you_: 'faith, that'sgood. I wish the diocese was your own; for you're funny enough to be abishop, docthor, you lay howld of everything. "

"That's a great qualification for a mitre, ma'am, " said the doctor. 

"And the poor young man that has got her is not worth a farthing, Ihear, docthor. "

"Then _he_ must be the curate, ma'am; though I don't think it's achapel of ease he has got into. "

"Oh! what a tongue you have, docthor, " said she, laughing; "'faithyou'll kill me. "

"That's my profession, ma'am. I am a licentiate of the Royal College;but, unfortunately for me, my humanity is an overmatch for my science. Phrenologically speaking, my benevolence is large, and mydestructiveness and acquisitiveness small. "

"Ah, there you go off on another tack; and what a funny new thing thatis you talk of!--that free knowledge or crow-knowledge, or whateversort of knowledge you call it. And there's one thing I want to ask youabout: there's a bump the ladies have, the gentlemen always laugh at, Iremark. "

"That's very rude of them, ma'am, " said the doctor drily. "Is it in theanterior region, or the----"

"Docthor, don't talk queer. "

"I'm only speaking scientifically, ma'am. "

"Well, I think your scientific discourse is only an excuse for sayingimpudent things; I mean the back of their heads. "

"I thought so, ma'am. "

"They call it--dear me, I forget--something--motive--motive--it'sLatin--but I am no _scholard_, docthor. "

"That's manifest, ma'am. "

"But a lady is not bound to know Latin, docthor. "

"Certainly not, ma'am--nor any other language except that of the eyes. "

Now, this was a wicked hit of the doctor's, for Mrs. Gubbins squintedfrightfully; but Mrs. Gubbins did not know that, so she went on. 

"The bump I mean, docthor, is motive something--motive--motive--I haveit!--motive-_ness_. "

"Now, I know what you mean, " said the doctor; "amativeness. "

"That's it, " said Mrs. Gubbins; "they call it number one, sometimes; Isuppose amativeness is Latin for number one. Now, what does that bumpmean?"

"Ah, madam, " said the doctor, puzzled for a moment to give anexplanation; but in a few seconds he answered, "That's a beautifulprovision of nature. That, ma'am, is the organ which makes your sextake compassion on ours. "[28]

 [28] This very ingenious answer was really given by an Irish professor to an over-inquisitive lady. 

"Wonderful!" said Mrs. Gubbins; "but how good nature is in giving usprovision! and I don't think there is a finer provision county inIreland than this. "

"Certainly not, ma'am, " said the doctor;--but the moment Mrs. Gubbinsbegan to speak of provisions, he was sure she would get into a verysolid discourse about her own farms; so he left his seat beside her andwent over to Mrs. Riley, to see what fun could be had in that quarter. 

Her daughter was cutting all sorts of barefaced capers about the room, "astonishing the natives, " as she was pleased to say; and Growling waslooking on in amused wonder at this specimen of vulgar effrontery, whomhe had christened "The Brazen Baggage" the first time he saw her. 

"You are looking at my daughter, sir, " said the delighted mother. 

"Yes, ma'am, " said the doctor, profoundly. 

"She's very young, sir. "

"She'll mend of that, ma'am. We were young once ourselves. "

This was not very agreeable to the mother, who dressed rather in ajuvenile style. 

"I mean, sir, that you must excuse any little awkwardness abouther--that all arises out of timidity--she was lost with bashfulnesstill I roused her out of it--but now I think she is beginning to have alittle self-possession. "

The doctor was amused, and took a large pinch of snuff; he enjoyed thephase "_beginning_ to have a _little_ self-possession" being applied tothe most brazen baggage he ever saw. 

"She's very accomplished, sir, " continued the mother. "Mister Jew-val(Duval) taitches her dancin', and Musha Dunny-ai (Mons. Du Noyer)[29]French. Misther Low-jeer (Logier) hasn't the like of her in his academyon the pianya; and as for the harp, you'd think she wouldn't lave asthring in it. "

 [29] My own worthy and excellent master, to whom I gladly pay this tribute of kindly remembrance. 

"She must be a treasure to her teachers, ma'am, " said the doctor. 

"'Faith, you may well say _threasure_, it costs handfuls o' money; butsure, while there's room for improvement, every apartment must beattended to, and the vocal apartment is filled by Sir John--fifteenshillin's a lesson, no less. "

"What silvery tones she ought to bring out, ma'am, at that rate!"

"'Faith, you may say that, sir. It's coining, so it is, with themtip-top men, and ruins one a'most to have a daughter; every shake I getout of her is to the tune of a ten-poun' note, at least. You shall hearher by-and-by; the minit the dancin' is over, she shall sing you the'Bewildhered Maid. ' Do you know the 'Bewildhered Maid, ' sir?"

"I haven't the honour of her acquaintance, ma'am, " said the doctor. 

The dancing _was_ soon over, and the mother's threat put into execution. Miss Riley was led over to the piano by the widow, with the usualprotestations that she was hoarse. It took some time to get the pianoready, for an extensive clearance was to be made from it of cups andsaucers, and half-empty glasses of negus, before it could be opened;then, after various thrummings and hummings and hawings, the"Bewildhered Maid" made her appearance in the wildest possible manner, and the final shriek was quite worthy of a maniac. Loud applausefollowed, and the wriggling Miss Riley was led from the piano by JamesReddy, who had stood at the back of her chair, swaying backward andforward to the music, with a maudlin expression of sentiment on hisface, and a suppressed exclamation of "B-u-tiful!" after every extrashout from the young lady. 

Growling listened with an expression of as much dissatisfaction as ifhe had been drinking weak punch. 

"I see you don't like that, " said the widow to him, under her breath;"ah, you're too hard, doctor--consider she sung out of good-nature. "

"I don't know if it was out of good-nature, " said he; "but I am sure itwas out of tune. "

[Illustration: The Widow Flanagan's Party]

James Reddy led back Miss Riley to her mamma, who was much delightedwith the open manifestations of "the poet's" admiration. 

"She ought to be proud, sir, of your _conjunction_, I'm sure. A poetlike you, sir!--what beautiful rhymes them wor you did on the 'lection. "

"A trifle, ma'am--a mere trifle--a little occasional thing. "

"Oh! but them two beautiful lines--

 "We tread the land that bore us Our green flag glitters o'er us!"

"_They_ are only a quotation, ma'am, " said Reddy. 

"Oh, like every man of true genius, sir, you try and undervalue yourown work; but call them lines what you like, to my taste they are themost beautiful lines in the thing you done. "

Reddy did not know what to answer, and his confusion was increased bycatching old Growling's eye, who was chuckling at the _mal-a-propos_speech of the flourishing Mrs. Riley. 

"Don't you sing yourself, sir?" said that lady. 

"To be sure he does, " cried the Widow Flanagan; "and he must give usone of his own. "

"Oh!"

"No excuses; now, James!"

"Where's Duggan?" inquired the poetaster, affectedly; "I told him to behere to accompany me. "

"I attend your muse, sir, " said a miserable structure of skin and bone, advancing with a low bow and obsequious smile: this was the poormusic-master, who set Reddy's rhymes to music as bad, and dancedattendance on him everywhere. 

The music-master fumbled over a hackneyed prelude to show his commandof the instrument. 

Miss Riley whispered to her mamma that it was out of one of her firstbooks of lessons. 

Mrs. Flanagan, with a seductive smirk, asked, "what he was going togive them?" The poet replied, "a little thing of his own--'Rosalie; or, the Broken Heart, '--sentimental, but rather sad. "

The musical skeleton rattled his bones against the ivory in a very one, two, three, four symphony; the poet ran his fingers through his hair, pulled up his collar, gave his head a jaunty nod, and commenced:

 ROSALIE;

 OR, THE BROKEN HEART. 

 Fare thee--fare thee well--alas! Fare--farewell to thee! On pleasure's wings, as dew-drops fade, Or honey stings the bee, My heart is as sad as a black stone Under the blue sea. Oh, Rosalie! Oh, Rosalie!

 As ruder rocks with envy glow, Thy _coral_ lips to see, So the weeping waves more briny grow With my salt tears for thee! My heart is as sad as a black stone Under the blue sea. Oh, Rosalie! Oh, Rosalie!

After this brilliant specimen of the mysteriously-sentimental andimaginative school was sufficiently applauded, dancing was recommenced, and Reddy seated himself beside Mrs. Riley, the incense of whose praisewas sweet in his nostrils. "Oh, you _have_ a soul for poetry indeed, sir, " said the lady. "I was bewildered with all your beautiful _idays_;that 'honey stings the bee' is a beautiful _iday_--so expressive of thepains and pleasures of love. Ah! I was the most romantic creature myselfonce, Mister Reddy, though you wouldn't think it now; but the cares ofthe world and a family takes the shine out of us. I remember when themen used to be making hats in my father's establishment--for my fatherwas the most extensive hatter in Dublin--I don't know if you knew myfather was a hatter; but you know, sir, manufactures must be followed, and that's no reason why people shouldn't enjoy po'thry and refinement. Well, I was going to tell you how romantic I was, and when the men weremaking the hats--I don't know whether you ever saw them making hats----"

Reddy declared he never did. 

"Well, it's like the witches round the iron pot in _Macbeth_; didyou ever see Kemble in _Macbeth_? Oh! he'd make your blood freeze, though the pit is so hot you wouldn't have a dhry rag on you. But tocome to the hats. When they're making them, they have hardly any crownto them at all, and they are all with great sprawling wide flaps tothem; well, the moment I clapt my eyes on one of them, I thought of aSpanish nobleman directly, with his slouched hat and black featherslike a hearse. Yes, I assure you, the broad hat always brought to mymind a Spanish noble or an Italian noble (that would do as well, youknow), or a robber or a murderer, which is all the same thing. "

Reddy could not conceive a hat manufactory as a favourable nursery forromance; but as the lady praised his song, he listened complacently toher hatting. 

"And that's another beautiful iday, sir, " continued the lady, "whereyou make the rocks jealous of each other--that's so beautiful to bringin a bit of nature into a metaphysic that way. "

"You flatter me, ma'am, " said Reddy; "but if I might speak of my ownwork--that is, if a man may _ever_ speak of his own work----"

"And why not, sir?" asked Mrs. Riley, with a business-like air; "whohas so good a right to speak of the work as the man who _done_ it, and knows what's in it?"

"That's a very sensible remark of yours, ma'am, and I will thereforetake leave to say, that the idea _I_ am proudest of, is the _dark_ and_heavy_ grief of the heart being compared to a _black_ stone, and its_depth_ of misery implied by the _sea_. "

"Thrue for you, " said Mrs. Riley; "and the _blue_ sea--ah! that didn'tescape me; that's an elegant touch--the black stone and the blue sea;and black and blue, such a beautiful conthrast!"

"I own, " said Reddy, "I attempted, in that, the bold and daring style ofexpression which Byron has introduced. "

"Oh, he's a fine _pote_ certainly, but he's not moral, sir; and I'mafeard to let my daughter read such combustibles. "

"But he's grand, " said Reddy; "for instance--

 'She walks in beauty like the night. '

How fine!"

"But how wicked!" said Mrs. Riley. "I don't like that night-walkingstyle of poetry at all, so say no more about it; we'll talk of somethingelse. You admire music, I'm sure. "

"I adore it, ma'am. "

"Do you like the piano?"

"Oh, ma'am! I could live under a piano. "

"My daughter plays the piano beautiful. "

"Charmingly. "

"Oh, but if you heerd her play the harp, you'd think she wouldn't lavea sthring on it" (this was Mrs. Riley's favourite bit of praise); "anda beautiful harp it is, one of Egan's double action, all over goold, and cost eighty guineas; Miss Cheese chuse it for her. Do you know MissCheese? she's as plump as a partridge, with a voice like a lark; shesings elegant duets. Do you ever sing duets?"

"Not often. "

"Ah! if you could hear Pether Dowling sing duets with my daughter! he'dmake the hair stand straight on your head with the delight. Oh, he's apowerful singer! you never heerd the like; he runs up and down as fastas a lamplighter;--and the beautiful turns he gives; oh! I never heerdany one sing a second like Pether. I declare he sings a _second_ to thatdegree _that you'd think it was the first_, and never at a loss for ashake; and then off he goes in a run that you'd think he'd never comeback; but he _does_ bring it back into the tune again with as nate a fitas a Limerick glove. Oh! I never heerd a singer like Pether!!!"

There is no knowing how much more Mrs. Riley would have said about"Pether, " if the end of the dance had not cut her eloquence short bypermitting the groups of dancers, as they promenaded, to throw in theirdesultory discourse right and left, and so break up anything like aconsecutive conversation. 

But let it not be supposed that all Mrs. Flanagan's guests were of theGubbins and Riley stamp. There were some of the better class of thecountry people present; intelligence and courtesy in the one sex, andgentleness and natural grace in the other, making a society not to beridiculed in the mass, though individual instances of folly andignorance and purse-proud effrontery were amongst it. 

But to Growling every phase of society afforded gratification; andwhile no one had a keener relish for such scenes as the one in which wehave just witnessed him, the learned and the courteous could be metwith equal weapons by the doctor when he liked. 

Quitting the dancing-room, he went into the little drawing-room, wherea party of a very different stamp was engaged in conversation. EdwardO'Connor and the "dear English captain, " as Mrs. Flanagan called him, were deep in an interesting discussion about the relative practices inIreland and England on the occasions of elections and trials, and mostother public events; and O'Connor and two or three listeners--amongstwhom was a Mr. Monk, whose daughters, remarkably nice girls, were ofthe party--were delighted with the feeling tone in which the Englishmanspoke of the poorer classes of Irish, and how often the excesses intowhich they sometimes fell were viewed through an exaggerated ordistorted medium, and what was frequently mere exuberance of spiritpronounced and punished as riot. 

"I never saw a people over whom those in authority require more goodtemper, " remarked the captain. 

"Gentleness goes a long way with them, " said Edward. 

"And violence never succeeds, " added Mr. Monk. 

"You are of opinion, then, " said the soldier, "they are not to beforced?"

"Except to do what they like, " chimed in Growling. 

"That's a very _Irish_ sort of coercion, " said the captain, smiling. 

"And therefore fit for Irishmen, " said Growling; "and I never knew anintelligent Englishman yet, who came to Ireland, who did not find itout. Paddy has a touch of the pig in him--he won't be _driven_; butyou may _coax_ him a long way: or if you appeal to his reason--for hehappens to _have_ such a thing about him--you may persuade him into whatis right if you take the trouble. "

"By Jove!" said the captain, "it is not easy to argue with Paddy; therascals are so ready with quip, and equivoque, and queer answers, thatthey generally get the best of it in talk, however fallacious may betheir argument; and when you think you have Pat in a corner and escapeis inevitable, he's off without your knowing how he slipped throughyour fingers. "

When the doctor joined the conversation, Edward, knowing his powers, gave up the captain into his hands and sat down by the side of MissMonk, who had just entered from the dancing-room, and retired to achair in the corner. 

She and Edward soon got engaged in a conversation particularlyinteresting to him. She spoke of having lately met Fanny Dawson, andwas praising her in such terms of affectionate admiration, that Edwardhung upon every word with delight. I know not if Miss Monk was aware ofEdward's devotion in that quarter before, but she could not look uponthe bland though somewhat sad smile which arched his expressive mouth, and the dilated eye which beamed as her praises were uttered, withoutbeing then conscious that Fanny Dawson had made him captive. 

She was pleased, and continued the conversation with that inherentpleasure a woman has in touching a man's heart, even though it be not onher own account; and it was done with tact and delicacy which only womenpossess, and which is so refined that the rougher nature of man isinsensible of its drift and influence, and he is betrayed by a net whosemeshes are too fine for his perception. Edward O'Connor never dreamtthat Miss Monk saw he was in love with the subject of their discourse. While they were talking, the merry hostess entered; and the last wordsthe captain uttered fell upon her ear, and then followed a reply fromGrowling, saying that Irishmen were as hard to catch as quicksilver. "Ay, and as hard to keep as any other silver, " said the widow; "don'tbelieve what these wild Irish fellows tell you of themselves, they areall mad divils alike--you steady Englishmen are the safe men--and thegirls know it. And 'faith, if you try them, " added she, laughing, "Idon't know any one more likely to have luck with them than yourself;for, 'pon my conscience, captain, we all doat on you since you would notshoot the people the other day. "

There was a titter among the girls at this open avowal. 

"Ah, why wouldn't I say it?" exclaimed she, laughing. "I am not amealy-mouthed miss; sure _I_ may tell truth; and I wouldn't trustone o' ye, " she added, with a very significant nod of the head at thegentlemen, "except the captain. Yes--I'd trust one more--I'd trustMister O'Connor; I think he really could be true to a woman. "

The words fell sweetly upon his ear; the expression of trust in hisfaith at that moment, even from the laughing widow, was pleasing; forhis heart was full of the woman he adored, and it was only by longwaiting and untiring fidelity she could ever become his. 

He bowed courteously to the compliment the hostess paid him; and she, immediately taking advantage of his acknowledgment, said that afterhaving paid him such a pretty compliment he couldn't refuse her to singa song. Edward never liked to sing in mixed companies, and was aboutmaking some objections, when the widow interrupted him with one of thoseIrish "Ah, now's, " so hard to resist. "Besides, all the noisy pack arein the dancing-room, or indeed I wouldn't ask you; and here there's notone won't be charmed with you. Ah, look at Miss Monk, there--I knowshe's dying to hear you; and see all the ladies _hanging on your lips_absolutely. Can you refuse me after _that_, now?"

It was true that in the small room where they sat there were only thosewho were worthy of better things than Edward would have ventured on tothe many; and filled with the tender and passionate sentiment hisconversation with Miss Monk had awakened, one of those effusions ofdeep, and earnest, and poetic feeling which love had prompted to hismuse rose to his lips, and he began to sing. 

All were silent, for the poet singer was a favourite, and all knew withwhat touching expression he gave his compositions; but now the mellowtones of his voice seemed to vibrate with a feeling in more than commonunison with the words, and his dark earnest eyes beamed with a devotionof which she who was the object might be proud. 

 A LEAF THAT REMINDS OF THEE

 I

 How sweet is the hour we give, When fancy may wander free, To the friends who in memory live!-- For then I remember thee! Then wing'd, like the dove from the ark, My heart, o'er a stormy sea, Brings back to my lonely bark A leaf that reminds of thee!

 II

 But still does the sky look dark, The waters still deep and wide; Oh! when may my lonely bark In peace on the shore abide? But through the future far, Dark though my course may be, _Thou_ art my guiding star! My heart still turns to thee. 

 III

 When I see thy friends I smile, I sigh when I hear thy name; But they cannot tell the while Whence the smile or the sadness came; Vainly the world may deem The cause of my sighs they know: The breeze that stirs the stream Knows not the depth below. 

Before the first verse of the song was over, the entrance to the roomwas filled with eager listeners, and, at its conclusion, a largeproportion of the company from the dancing-room had crowded round thedoor, attracted by the rich voice of the singer, and fascinated intosilence by the charm of his song. Perhaps after mental qualities, themost valuable gift a man can have is a fine voice; it at once commandsattention, and may therefore be ranked in a man's possession as highlyas beauty in a woman's. 

In speaking thus of voice, I do not allude to the power of singing, butthe mere physical quality of a fine voice, which in the bare utteranceof the simplest words is pleasing, but, becoming the medium for theinterchange of higher thoughts, is irresistible. Superadded to thisgift, which Edward possessed, the song he sang had meaning in it whichcould reach the hearts of all his auditory, though its poetry might beappreciated by but few; its imagery grew upon a stem whose root was inevery bosom, and the song that possesses this quality, whatever may beits defects, contains not only the elements of future fame, but ofimmediate popularity. Startling was the contrast between the silence thesong had produced and the simultaneous clapping of hands outside thedoor when it was over; not the poor plaudit of a fashionable assembly, whose "bravo" is an attenuated note of admiration, struggling into asickly existence and expiring in a sigh--applause of so suspicious acharacter, that no one seems desirous of owning it--a feeble forgery ofsatisfaction which people think it disgraceful to be caught uttering. The clapping was not the plaudits of high-bred hands, whose sound islike the fluttering of small wings, just enough to stir gossamer--butnot the heart. No; such was not the applause which followed Edward'ssong; he had the outburst of heart-warm and unsophisticated satisfactionunfettered by chilling convention. Most of his hearers did not know thatit was disgraceful to admit being too well pleased, and the poorinnocents really opened their mouths and clapped their hands. Oh, fie!tell it not in Grosvenor-square. 

And now James Reddy contrived to be asked to sing; the coxcomb, notcontent with his luck in being listened to before, panted for suchanother burst of applause as greeted Edward, whose song he had no notionwas any better than his own; the puppy fancied his rubbish of the "blackstone under the blue sea" partook of a grander character of composition, and that while Edward's "breeze" but "stirred the stream, " he hadfathomed the ocean. But a "heavy blow and great discouragement" was instore for Master James, for as he commenced a love ditty which he calledby the fascinating title of "The Rose of Silence, " and verily believedwould have enraptured every woman in the room, a powerful voice, richlyflavoured with the brogue, shouted forth outside the door, "_Ma'am, ifyou plaze, supper's sarved_. " The effect was magical; a rush was made tosupper by the crowd in the doorway, and every gentleman in the littledrawing-room offered his arm to a lady, and led her off without thesmallest regard to Reddy's singing. 

His look was worth anything as he saw himself thus unceremoniouslydeserted and likely soon to be left in sole possession of the room; theold doctor was enchanted with his vexation; and when James ceased tosing, as the last couple were going, the doctor interposed his requestthat the song should be finished. 

"Don't stop, my dear fellow, " said the doctor; "that's the best song Ihave heard for a long time, and you must indulge me by finishingit--that's a gem. "

"Why, you see, doctor, they have all gone to supper. "

"Yes, and the devil choke them with it, " said Growling, "for their wantof taste; but never mind that: one judicious listener is worth a crowdof such fools, you'll admit; so sit down again and sing for me. "

The doctor seated himself as he spoke, and there he kept Reddy, who heknew was very fond of a good supper, singing away for the bare life, with only one person for audience, and that one humbugging him. Thescene was rich; the gravity with which the doctor carried on the quizwas admirable, and the gullibility of the coxcomb who was held captiveby his affected admiration exquisitely absurd and almost past belief;even Growling himself was amazed, as he threw in a rapturous "charming"or "bravissimo, " at the egregious folly of his dupe, who still continuedsinging, while the laughter of the supper-room and the inviting clatterof its knives and forks were ringing in his ear. When Reddy concluded, the doctor asked might he venture to request the last verse again;"for, " continued he, "there is a singular beauty of thought and felicityof expression in its numbers, leaving the mind unsatisfied with but onehearing; once more, if you please. "

Poor Reddy repeated the last verse. 

"Very charming, indeed!" said the doctor. 

"You really like it?" said Reddy. 

"Like?" said the doctor--"sir, _like_ is a faint expression of what Ithink of that song. Moore had better look to his laurels, sir!"

"Oh, doctor!"

"Ah, you know yourself, " said Growling. 

"Then that last, doctor----?" said Reddy, inquiringly. 

"Is your most successful achievement, sir; there is a mysteriousshadowing forth of something in it which is very fine. "

"You like it better than the 'Black Stone'?"

"Pooh! sir; the 'Black Stone, ' if I may be allowed an image, is butordinary paving, while that 'Rose of Silence' of yours might strew thepath to Parnassus. "

"And is it not strange, doctor, " said Reddy, in a reproachful tone, "that _them_ people should be insensible to that song, and leave theroom while I was singing it?"

"Too good for them, sir--above their comprehension. "

"Besides, so rude!" said Reddy. 

"Oh, my dear friend, " said the doctor, "when you know more of the world, you'll find out that an appeal from the lower house to the upper, " andhe changed his hand from the region of his waistcoat to his head as hespoke, "is most influential. "

"True, doctor, " said Reddy, with a smile; "and suppose _we_ go tosupper now. "

"Wait a moment, " said Growling, holding his button. "Did you ever tryyour hand at an epic?"

"No, I can't say that I did. "

"I wish you would. "

"You flatter me, doctor; but don't you think we had better go tosupper?"

"Ha!" said the doctor, "your own House of Commons is sending up anappeal--eh?"

"Decidedly, doctor. "

"Then you see, my dear friend, you can't wonder at those poor inferiorbeings hurrying off to indulge their gross appetites, when a man ofgenius like you is not insensible to the same call. Never wonder againat people leaving your song for supper, Master James, " said the doctor, resting his arm on Reddy, and sauntering from the room. "Never wonderagain at the triumph of supper over song, for the Swan of Avon himselfwould have no chance against roast ducks. "

Reddy smacked his lips at the word ducks, and the savoury odour of thesupper-room which they approached heightened his anticipation of anonslaught on one of the aforesaid tempting birds; but, ah! when heentered the room, skeletons of ducks there were, but nothing more; thework of demolition had been in able hands, and the doctor's lachrymoseexclamation of "the devil a duck!" found a hollow echo under Reddy'swaistcoat. Round the room that deluded minstrel went, seeking what hemight devour, but his voyage of discovery for any hot fowl wasprofitless; and Growling, in silent delight, witnessed hisdisappointment. 

"Come, sir, " said the doctor, "there's plenty of punch left, however;I'll take a glass with you, and drink success to your next song, forthe last is all I could wish;" and so indeed it was, for it enabled himto laugh at the poetaster, and cheat him out of his supper. 

"Ho, ho!" said Murtough Murphy, who approached the door; "you havefound out the punch is good, eh? 'Faith it is that same, and I'll takeanother glass of it with you before I go, for the night is cold. "

"Are you going so soon?" asked Growling, as he clinked his glassagainst the attorney's. 

"Whisht!" said Murphy, "not a word, --I'm slipping away afterDick the Divil; we have a trifle of work in hand quite in his line, and it is time to set about it. Good bye, you'll hear more of itto-morrow--snug's the word. "

Murphy stole away, for the open departure of so merry a blade would nothave been permitted, and in the hall he found Dick mounting a largetop-coat and muffling up. 

"Good people are scarce, you think, Dick, " said Murphy. 

"I'd recommend you to follow the example, for the night is bitter cold, I can tell you. "

"And as dark as a coal-hole, " said Murphy, as he opened the door andlooked out. 

"No matter, I have got a dark lantern, " said Dick, "which we can usewhen required; make haste, the gig is round the corner, and the littleblack mare will roll us over in no time. "

They left the house quietly, as he spoke, and started on a bit ofmischief which demands a separate chapter.