“Jack’s voice now began to tremble in airnest, with downright love and tinderness, as good right it had; so he promised to do everything just as she bid him, and then went home with a dacint appetite enough to his supper. “You may be sure the ould fellow looked darker and grimmer than ever at Jack: but what could he do? Jack had done his duty? so he sat before the fire, and sung ‘Love among the Roses,’ and the ‘Black Joke,’ with a stouter and a lighter heart than ever, while the black chap, could have seen him skivered. “When midnight came, Jack, who kept a hawk’s eye to the night, was at the hawthorn with the wild filly, saddled and all-more betoken, she wasn’t a bit wild then, but as tame as a dog. Off they set, like Erin-go-bragh, Jack and the lady, and never pulled bridle till it was one o’clock next day, when they stopped at an inn, and had some refreshment. They then took to the road again, full speed; however, they hadn’t gone far, when they heard a great noise behind them, and the tramp of horses galloping like mad. ‘Jack,’ says the darling, on hearing the hubbub, ‘look behind you, and see what’s this.’
“‘Och! by the elevens,’ says Jack, ‘we’re done at last; it’s the dark fellow, and half the country after us.’ ‘Put your hand,’ says she, ‘in the filly’s right ear, and tell me what you find in it.’ ‘Nothing at all,’ says Jack, ‘but a weeshy bit of a dry stick.’ ‘Throw it over your left shoulder says she, ‘and see what will happen.’ Jack did so at once, and there was a great grove of thick trees growing so close to one another, that a dandy could scarcely get his arm betwixt them. ‘Now,’ said she, ‘we are safe for another day.’ ‘Well,’ said Jack, as he pushed on the filly, ‘you’re the jewel of the world, sure enough; and maybe it’s you that won’t live happy when we get to the Jim of the Ocean.’ “As soon as dark-face saw what happened, he was obliged to scour the country for hatchets and hand-saws, and all kinds of sharp instruments, to hew himself and his men a passage through the grove. As the saying goes, many hands make light work, and sure enough, it wasn’t long till they had cleared a way for themselves, thick as it was, and set off with double speed after Jack and the lady.
“The next day, about’ one o’clock, he and she were after taking another small refreshment of roast-beef and porther, and pushing on, as before, when they heard the same tramping behind them, only it was ten times louder.
“‘Here they are again,’ says Jack; ‘and I’m afeard they’ll come up with us at last.’
“‘If they do,’ says she, ‘they’ll put us to death on the spot; but we must try somehow to stop them another day, if we can; search the filly’s right ear again, and let me know what you find in it.’
“Jack pulled out a little three-cornered pebble, telling her that it was all he got; ‘well,’ says she, ‘throw it over your left shoulder like the stick.’
“No sooner said than done; and there was a great chain of high, sharp rocks in the way of divel-face and all his clan. ‘Now,’ says she, ‘we have gained another day.’ ‘Tundher-and-turf!’ says Jack, ‘what’s this for, at all, at all?-but wait till I get you in the Immerald Isle, for this, and if you don’t enjoy happy days any how, why I’m not sitting before you on this horse, by the same token that it’s not a horse at all, but a filly though; if you don’t get the hoith of good aiting and drinking-lashings of the best wine and whisky that the land can afford, my name’s not Jack. We’ll build a castle, and you’ll have upstairs and downstairs-a coach and six to ride in-lots of sarvints to attend on you, and full and plinty of everything; not to mintion-hem!-not to mintion that you’ll have a husband that the fairest lady in the land might be proud of,’ says he, stretching himself up in the saddle, and giving the filly a jag of the spurs, to show off a bit; although the coaxing rogue knew that the money which was to do all this was her own. At any rate, they spent the remainder of this day pleasantly enough, still moving on, though, as fast as they could. Jack, every now and then, would throw an eye behind, as if to watch their pursuers, wherein, if the truth was known, it was to get a peep at the beautiful glowing face and warm lips that were breathing all kinds of fraagrancies about him. I’ll warrant he didn’t envy the king upon his throne, when he felt the honeysuckle of her breath, like the smell of Father Ned’s orchard there, of a May morning.
“When Fardorougha [7] found the great chain of rocks before him, you may set it down that he was likely to blow up with vexation; but, for all that, the first thing he blew up was the rocks-and that he might lose little or no time in doing it, he collected all the gunpowder and crowbars, spades and pickaxes, that could be found for miles about him, and set to it, working as if it was with inch of candle. For half a day there was nothing but boring and splitting, and driving of iron wedges, and blowing up pieces of rocks as big as little houses, until, by hard labor, they made a passage for themselves sufficient to carry them over. They then set off again, full speed; and great advantage they had over the poor filly that Jack and the lady rode on, for their horses were well rested, and hadn’t to carry double, like Jack’s. The next day they spied Jack and his beautiful companion, just about a quarter of a mile before them.
“‘Now,’ says dark-brow, ‘I’ll make any man’s fortune forever that will bring me them two, either living or dead, but, if possible, alive: so, spur on, for whoever secures them, man, woman, or child, is a made man, but, above all, make no noise.’
“It was now divil take the hindmost among the bloody pack-every spur was red with blood, and every horse smoking. Jack and the lady were jogging on acrass a green field, not suspecting that the rest were so near them, and talking over the pleasant days they would spind together in Ireland, when they hears the hue-and-cry once more at their very heels.
“‘Quick as lightning, Jack,’ says she, ‘or we’re lost-the right ear and the left shoulder, like thought-they’re not three lengths of the filly from us!’
“But Jack knew his business; for just as a long, grim-looking villain, with a great rusty rapier in his hand, was within a single leap of them, and quite sure of either killing or making prisoners of them both, Jack flings a little drop of green water that he got in the filly’s ear over his left shoulder, and in an instant there was a deep, dark gulf, filled with black, pitchy-looking water between them. The lady now desired Jack to pull up the filly a bit, that they might see what would become of the dark fellow; but just as they turned round, the ould nagur set ‘spurs to his horse, and, in a fit of desperation, plunged himself, horse and all, into the gulf, and was never seen or heard of more. The rest that were with him went home, and began to quarrel about his wealth, and kept murdering and killing one another, until a single vagabond of them wasn’t left alive to enjoy it.
“When Jack saw what happened, and that the blood-thirsty ould villain got what he desarved so richly, he was as happy as a prince, and ten times happier than most of them as the world goes, and she was every bit as delighted. ‘We have nothing more to fear,’ said the darling that put them all down so cleverly, seeing that she was but a woman; but, bedad, it’s she was the right sort of a woman-’all our dangers are now over, at least, all yours are; regarding myself,’ says she, ‘there’s a trial before me yet, and that trial, Jack, depends upon your faithfulness and constancy.’
“‘On me, is it?-Och, then, murder! isn’t it a poor case entirely, that I have no way of showing you that you may depind your life upon me, only by telling you so?’
“‘I do depend upon you,’ says she-’and now, as you love me, do not, when the trial comes, forget her that saved you out of so many troubles, and made you such a great and wealthy man.’
“The foregoing part of this Jack could well understand, but the last part of it, making collusion to the wealth, was a little dark, as he thought, bekase, he hadn’t fingered any of it at the time: still, he knew she was truth to the back-bone, and wouldn’t desave him. They hadn’t travelled much farther, When Jack snaps his fingers with a ‘Whoo! by the powers, there it is, my darling-there it is, at long last!’
“‘There is what, Jack?’ said she, surprised, as well she might, at his mirth and happiness-’There is what?’ says she. ‘Cheer up!’ says Jack; ‘there it is, my darling,-the Shannon!-as soon as we get to the other side of it, we’ll be in ould Ireland once more.’
“There was no end to Jack’s good humor, when he crossed the Shannon; and she was not a bit displeased to see him so happy. They had now no enemies to fear, were in a civilized country, and among green fields and well-bred people. In this way they travelled at their ase, till they came within a few miles of the town of Knockimdowny, near which Jack’s mother lived.
“‘Now, Jack,’ says she, ‘I told you that I would make you rich. You know the rock beside your mother’s cabin; in the east end of that rock there is a loose stone, covered over with gray moss, just two feet below the cleft out of which the hanging rowan-tree grows-pull that stone out, and you will find more goold than would make a duke. Neither speak to any person, nor let any living thing touch your lips till you come back to me, or you’ll forget that you ever saw me, and I’ll lie left poor and friendless in a strange, country.’
“‘Why, thin, manim asthee hu,’ [[8]] says Jack, ‘but the best way to guard against that, is to touch your own sweet lips at the present time,’ says he, giving her a smack that you’d hear, of a calm evening, acrass a couple of fields. Jack set off to touch the money, with such speed that when he fell he scarcely waited to rise again; he was soon at the rock, any how, and without either doubt or disparagement, there was a cleft of real goolden guineas, as fresh as daisies. The first thing he did, after he had filled his pockets with them, was to look if his mother’s cabin was to the fore; and there surely it was, as snug as ever, with the same dacent column of smoke rowling from the chimbley.
“‘Well,’ thought he, ‘I’ll just stale over to the door-cheek, and peep in to get one sight of my poor mother; then I’ll throw her in a handful of these guineas, and take to my scrapers.’
“Accordingly, he stole up at a half bend to the door, and was just going to take a peep in, when out comes the little dog Trig, and begins to leap and fawn upon him, as if it would eat him. The mother, too, came running out to see what was the matter, when the dog made another spring up about Jack’s neck, and gave his lips the slightest lick in the world with its tongue, the crathur was so glad to see him: the next minute, Jack forgot the lady, as clane as if he had never seen her; but if he forgot her, catch him at forgetting the money-not he, avick !-that stuck to him like pitch.
“When the mother saw who it was, she flew to him, and, clasping her arms about his neck, hugged him till she wasn’t worth three halfpence. After Jack sot a while, he made a trial to let her know what had happened him, but he disremembered it all, except having the money in the rock, so he up and tould her that, and a glad woman she was to hear of his good fortune. Still he kept the place where the goold was to himself, having been often forbid by her ever to trust a woman with a sacret when he could avoid it.
“Now everybody knows what changes the money makes, and Jack was no exception to this ould saying. In a few years he built himself a fine castle, with three hundred and sixty-four windies in it, and he would have added another, to make one for every day in the year, only that would be equal to the number in the King’s palace, and the Lord of the Black Rod would be sent to take his head off, it being high thrason for a subject to have as many windies in his house as the king. [9]
However, Jack, at any rate, had enough of them; and he that couldn’t be happy with three hundred and sixty-four, wouldn’t desarve to have three hundred and sixty-five. Along with all this, he bought coaches and carriages, and didn’t get proud like many another beggarly upstart, but took especial good care of his mother, whom he dressed in silks and satins, and gave her nice nourishing food, that was fit for an ould woman in her condition. He also got great tachers, men of great larning, from Dublin, acquainted with all subjects; and as his own abilities were bright, he soon became a very great scholar, entirely, and was able, in the long run, to outdo all his tutherers.
“In this way he lived for some years-was now a man of great larning himself-could spake the seven langidges, and it would delight your ears to hear how high-flown and Englified he could talk. All the world wondered where he got his wealth; but as he was kind and charitable to every one that stood in need of assistance, the people said that wherever he got it it couldn’t be in better hands. At last he began to look about him for a wife, and the only one in that part of the country that would be at all fit for him, was the Honorable Miss Bandbox, the daughter of a nobleman in the neighborhood. She indeed flogged all the world for beauty; but it was said that she was proud and fond of wealth, though, God he knows, she had enough of that any how. Jack, however, saw none of this; for she was cunning enough to smile, and simper, and look pleasant, whenever he’d come to her father’s. Well, begad, from one thing, and one word, to another, Jack thought it was best to make up to her at wanst, and try if she’d accept of him for a husband; accordingly he put the word to her like a man, and she, making as if she was blushing, put her fan before her face and made no answer. Jack, however, wasn’t to be daunted; for he knew two things worth knowing, when a man goes to look for a wife: the first is-that ‘faint heart never won fair lady,’ and the second-that ‘silence gives consint;’ he, therefore, spoke up to her in fine English, for it’s he that knew how to speak now, and after a little more fanning and blushing, by jingo, she consinted. Jack then broke the matter to her father, who was as fond of money as the daughter, and only wanted to grab at him for the wealth.
“When the match was a making, says ould Bandbox to Jack, ‘Mr. Magennis,’ says he, (for nobody called him Jack now but his mother)-’these two things you must comply with, if you marry my daughter, Miss Gripsy:-you must send away your mother from about you, and pull down the cabin in which you and she used to live; Gripsy says that they would jog her memory consarning your low birth and former poverty; she’s nervous and high-spirited, Mr. Magennis, and declares upon her honor that she couldn’t bear the thoughts of having the delicacy of her feeling offinded by these things.’
“‘Good morning to you both,’ says Jack, like an honest fellow as he was, ‘if she doesn’t marry me except on these conditions, give her my compliments, and tell her our courtship is at an end.’
“But it wasn’t long till they soon came out with another story, for before a week passed they were very glad to get him on his own conditions. Jack was now as happy as the day was long-all things appointed for the wedding, and nothing a wanting to make everything to his heart’s content but the wife, and her he was to have in less than no time. For a day or two before the wedding, there never was seen such grand preparations: bullocks, and hogs, and sheep were roasted whole-kegs of whiskey, both Roscrea and Innishowen, barrels of ale and beer were there in dozens. All descriptions of niceties and wild-fowl, and fish from the say; and the dearest wine that could be bought with money, was got for the gentry and grand folks. Fiddlers, and pipers, and harpers, in short all kinds of music and musicianers, played in shoals. Lords and ladies, and squares of high degree were present-and, to crown the thing, there was open house to all comers.
“At length the wedding-day arrived; there was nothing but roasting and boiling; servants dressed in rich liveries ran about with joy and delight in their countenances, and white gloves and wedding favors on their hats and hands. To make a long story short, they were all seated in Jack’s castle at the wedding breakfast, ready for the priest to marry them when they’d be done; for in them times people were never married until they had laid in a good foundation to carry them through the ceremony. Well, they were all seated round the table, the men dressed in the best of broadcloth, and the ladies rustling in their silks and satins-their heads, necks, and arms hung round with jewels both rich and rare; but of all that were there that day, there wasn’t the likes of the bride and bridegroom. As for him, nobody could think, at all at all, that he was ever any thing else than a born gintleman; and what was more to his credit, he had his kind ould mother sitting beside the bride, to tache her that an honest person, though poorly born, is company for the king. As soon as the breakfast was served up, they all set to, and maybe the various kinds of eatables did not pay for it; and among all this cutting and thrusting, no doubt but it was remarked, that the bride herself was behindhand wid none of them-that she took her dalin-trick without flinching, and made nothing less than a right fog meal of it; and small blame to her for that same, you persave.
“When the breakfast was over, up gets Father Flannagan-out with his book, and on with his stole, to marry them. The bride and bridegroom went up to the end of the room, attended by their friends, and the rest of the company stood on each side of it, for you see they were too high bred, and knew their manners too well, to stand in a crowd like spalpeens. For all that, there was many a sly look from the ladies to their bachelors, and many a titter among them, grand as they were; for, to tell the truth, the best of them likes to see fun in the way, particularly of that sort. The priest himself was in as great a glee as any of them, only he kept it under, and well he might, for sure enough this marriage was nothing less than a rare windfall to him and the parson that was to marry them after him-bekase you persave a Protestant and Catholic must be married by both, otherwise it does not hould good in law. The parson was as grave as a mustard-pot, and Father Flannagan called the bride and bridegroom his childher, which was a big bounce for him to say the likes of, more betoken that neither of them was a drop’s blood to him.
“However, he pulled out the book, and was just beginning to buckle them when in comes Jack’s ould acquaintance, the smoking cur, as grave as ever. The priest had just got through two or three words of Latin, when the dog gives him a pluck by the sleeve; Father Flannagan, of coorse, turned round to see who it was that nudged him: ‘Behave yourself,’ says the dog to him, just as he peeped over his shoulder-’behave yourself,’ says he; and with that he sat him down on his hunkers beside the priest, and pulling a cigar instead of a pipe out of his pocket, he put it in his mouth, and began to smoke for the bare life of him. And, by my own word, it’s he that could smoke: at times he would shoot the smoke in a slender stream like a knitting-needle, with a round curl at the one end of it, ever so far out of the right side of his mouth; then he would shoot it out of the left, and sometimes make it swirl out so beautiful from the middle of his lips!-why, then, it’s he that must have been the well-bred puppy all out, as far as smoking went. Father Flannagan and they all were thundherstruck.
“‘In the name of St. Anthony, and of that holy nun, St. Teresa,’ said his Reverence to him, ‘who and what are you, at all at all?’
“‘Never mind that,’ says the dog, taking the cigar for a minute between his claws; ‘but if you wish particularly to know, I’m a thirty-second cousin of your own by the mother’s side.’
“‘I command you in the name of all the saints,’ says Father Flannagan, believing him to be the devil, ‘to disappear from among us, and never become visible to any one in this house again.’
“‘The sorra a budge, at the present time, will I budge,’ says the dog to him, ‘until I see all sides rightified, and the rogues disappointed.’
“Now one would be apt to think the appearance of a spaking dog might be after fright’ning the ladies; but doesn’t all the world know that spaking puppies are their greatest favorites? Instead of that, you see, there was half a dozen fierce-looking whiskered fellows, and three or four half-pay officers, that were nearer making off than the ladies. But, besides the cigar, the dog had his beautiful eye-glass, and through it, while he was spaking to Father Flannigan, he ogled all the ladies, one after another, and when his eye would light upon any that pleased him, he would kiss his paw to her and wag his tail with the greatest politeness.
“‘John,’ says Father Flannagan, to one of the servants, ‘bring me salt and water, till I consecrate them [10] to banish the divil, for he has appeared to us all during broad daylight in the shape of a dog.’
“‘You had better behave yourself, I say again,’ says the dog, ‘or if you make me speak, by my honor as a gintleman I’ll expose you: I say you won’t marry the same two, neither this nor any other day, and I’ll give you my raisons presently; but I repate it, Father Flannagan, if you compel me to speak, I’ll make you look nine ways at once.’
“‘I defy you, Satan,’ says the priest; ‘and if you don’t take yourself away before the holy watcher’s made, I’ll send you off in a flame of fire.’
“‘Oh! yes, I’m trimbling,’ says the dog: ‘plenty of spirits you laid in your day, but it was in a place that’s nearer to us than the Red Sea, you did it: listen to me though, for I don’t wish to expose you, as I said;’ so he gets on his hind legs, puts his nose to the priest’s ear, and whispers something that none of the rest could hear-all before the priest had time to know where he was. At any rate, whatever he said seemed to make his Reverence look double, though, faix, that wasn’t hard to do, for he was as big as two common men. When the dog was done speaking, and had put his cigar in his mouth, the priest seemed thundherstruck, crossed himself, and was, no doubt of it, in great perplexity. “‘I say it’s false,’ says Father Flannagan, plucking up his courage; ‘but you know you’re a liar, and the father of liars.’
“‘As thrue as gospel, this bout, I tell you,’ says the dog.
“‘Wait till I make my holy wather,’ says the priest, ‘and if I don’t cork you in a thumb-bottle for this, [11] I’m not here.’
“Just at this minute, the whole company sees a gintleman galloping for the bare life of him, up to the hall-door, and he dressed like an officer. In three jiffeys he was down off his horse, and in among the company. The dog, as soon as he made his appearance, laid his claw as usual on his nose, and gave the bridegroom a wink, as much as to say, ‘watch what’ll happen.’
“Now it was very odd that Jack, during all this time, remembered the dog very well, but could never once think of the darling that did so much for him. As soon, however, as the officer made his appearance, the bride seemed as if she would sink outright; and when he walked up to her, to ax what was the meaning of what he saw, why, down she drops at once-fainted clane. The gintleman then went up to Jack, and says, ‘Sir, was this lady about to be married to you?’
“‘Sartinly,’ says Jack, ‘we were going to be yoked in the blessed and holy tackle of mathrimony;’ or some high-flown words of that kind. “‘Well, sir,’ says the other back to him, ‘I can only say that she is most solemniously sworn never to marry another man but me at a time; that oath she tuck when I was joining my regiment before it went abroad; and if the ceremony of your marriage be performed, you will sleep with a perjured bride.’
“Begad, he did plump before all their faces. Jack, of coorse, was struck all of aghape at this; but as he had the bride in his arms, giving her a little sup of whiskey to bring her to, you persave, he couldn’t make him an answer. However, she soon came to herself, and, on opening her eyes, ‘Oh, hide me, hide me,’ says she, ‘for I can’t bear to look on him!’
“‘He says you are his sworn bride, my darling,’ says Jack.
“‘I am-I am,’ says she, covering her eyes, and crying away at the rate of a wedding: ‘I can’t deny it; and, by tare-an-ounty!’ says she, ‘I’m unworthy to be either his wife or yours; for, except I marry you both, I dunna how to settle this affair between you at all;-oh, murther sheery! but I’m the misfortunate crathur, entirely.’
“‘Well,’ says Jack to the officer, ‘nobody can do more than be sorry for a wrong turn; small blame to her for taking a fancy to your humble servant, Mr. Officer,’-and he stood as tall as possible to show himself off: ‘you see the fair lady is sorrowful for her folly, so as it’s not yet too late, and as you came in the nick of time, in the name of Providence take my place, and let the marriage go an.’
“‘No,’ says she, ‘never; I’m not worthy of him, at all, at all; thundher-an-age, but I’m the unlucky thief!’
“While this was going forward, the officer looked closely at Jack, and seeing him such a fine, handsome fellow, and having heard before of his riches, he began to think that, all things considhered, she wasn’t so much to be blempt . Then, when he saw how sorry she was for having forgot him, he steps forrid .
“‘Well,’ says he, ‘I’m still willing to marry you, particularly as you feel conthrition-’”
“He should have said contrition, confession, and satisfaction,” observed Father Peter.
“Pether, will you keep your theology to yourself,” replied Father Ned, “and let us come to the plot without interruption.”
“Plot!” exclaimed Father Peter; “I’m sure it’s no rebellion that there should be a plot in it, any way!”
” Tace,” said Father Ned-” tace, and that’s Latin for a candle.”
“I deny that,” said the curate; ” tace is the imperative mood from tacco, to keep silent. Tacco, taces, tacui, tacere, tacendi, tacendo tac -”
“Ned, go on with your story, and never mind that deep larning of his-he’s almost cracked with it,” said the superior: “go on, and never mind him.”
“‘Well,’ says he, ‘I’m still willing to marry you, particularly as you feel conthrition for what you were going to do.’ So, with this, they all gother about her, and, as the officer was a fine fellow himself, prevailed upon her to let the marriage be performed, and they were accordingly spliced as fast as his Reverence could make them.
“‘Now, Jack,’ says the dog, ‘I want to spake with you for a minute-it’s a word for your own ear;’ so up he stands on his two hind legs, and purtinded to be whisp’ring something to him; but what do you think?-he gives him the slightest touch on the lips with his paw, and that instant Jack remimbered the lady and everything that happened betune them.
“‘Tell me, this instant,’ says Jack, seizing him by the throat, ‘where’s the darling, at all, at all, or by this and by that you’ll hang on the next tree!’
“Jack spoke finer nor this, to be sure, but as I can’t give his tall English, the sorra one of me will bother myself striving to do it.
“‘Behave yourself,’ says the dog, ‘just say nothing, only follow me.’
“Accordingly, Jack went out with the dog, and in a few minutes comes in again, leading along with him, on the one side, the loveliest lady that ever eye beheld, and the dog, that was her brother, metamurphied into a beautiful, illegant gintleman, on the other.
“‘Father Flannagan,’ says Jack, ‘you thought a little while ago you’d have no marriage, but instead of that you’ll have a brace of them;’ up and telling the company, at the same time, all that had happened to him, and how the beautiful crathur that he had brought in with him had done so much for him.
“Whin the gintlemen heard this, as they were all Irishmen, you may be sure there was nothing but huzzaing and throwing up of hats from them, and waving of hankerchers from the ladies. Well, my dear, the wedding dinner was ate in great style; the nobleman proved himself no disgrace to his rank at the trencher; and so, to make a long story short, such faisting and banquetteering was never since or before. At last, night came; among ourselves, not a doubt of it, but Jack thought himself a happy man; and maybe, if all was known, the bride was much in the same opinion: be that as it may, night came-the bride, all blushing, beautiful, and modest as your own sweetheart, was getting tired after the dancing; Jack, too, though much stouter, wished for a trifle of repose, and many thought it was near time to throw the stocking, as is proper, of coorse, on every occasion of the kind. Well, he was just on his way up stairs, and had reached the first landing, when he hears a voice at his ear, shouting, ‘Jack-Jack-Jack Magennis!’ Jack could have spitted anybody for coming to disturb him at such a criticality. ‘Jack Magennis!’ says the voice. Jack looked about to see who it was that called him, and there he found himself lying on the green Rath, a little above his mother’s cabin, of a fine, calm summer’s evening, in the month of June. His mother was stooping over him, with her mouth at his ear, striving to waken him, by shouting and shaking him out of his sleep.
“‘Oh! by this and by that, mother,’ says Jack, ‘what did you waken me for?’
“‘Jack, avourneen,’ says the mother, ‘sure and you war lying grunting, and groaning, and snifthering there, for all the world as if you had the cholic, and I only nudged you for fraid you war in pain.’
“‘I wouldn’t for a thousand guineas,’ says Jack, ‘that ever you wakened me, at all, at all; but whisht, mother, go into the house, and I’ll be afther you in less than no time.’
“The mother went in, and the first thing Jack did was to try the rock; and, sure enough, there he found as much money as made him the richest man that ever was in the country. And what was to his credit, when, he did grow rich, he wouldn’t let his cabin be thrown down, but built a fine castle on a spot near it, where he could always have it under his eye, to prevent him from getting proud. In the coorse of time, a harper, hearing the story, composed a tune upon it, which every body knows is called the ‘Little House under the Hill’ to this day, beginning with-
’Hi for it, ho for it, hi for it still;
Och, and whoo! your sowl-hi for the little house under the hill!’
“So you see that was the way the great Magennisses first came by their wealth, and all because Jack was indistrious, and an obadient, dutiful, and tindher son to his helpless ould mother, and well he deserved what he got, ershi misha [12]
Your healths, Father Ned-Father Pether-all kinds of happiness to us; and there’s my story.”
“Well,” said Father Peter, “I think that dog was nothing more or less than a downright cur, that deserved the lash nine times a day, if it was only for his want of respect to the clergy; if he had given me such insolence, I solemnly declare I would have bate the devil out of him with a hazel cudgel, if I failed to exorcise him with a prayer.”
Father Ned looked at the simple and credulous curate with an expression of humor and astonishment.
“Paddy,” said he to the servant, “will you let us know what the night’s doing?”
Paddy looked out. “Why, your Rev’rence, it’s a fine night, all out, and cleared up it is bravely.”
At this moment the stranger awoke.
“Sir,” said Father Ned, “you missed an amusing story, in consequence of your somnolency.”
“Though I missed the story,” replied the stranger, “I was happy enough to hear your friend’s critique upon the dog.”
Father Ned seemed embarrassed; the curate, on the contrary, exclaimed with triumph-“but wasn’t I right, sir?”
“Perfectly,” said the stranger; “the moral you applied was excellent.”
“Good-night, boys,” said Father Ned-“good-night, Mr. Longinus Polysyllabus Alexandrinus!”
“Good-night, boys,” said Father Peter, imitating Father Ned, whom he looked upon as a perfect model of courtesy-“Good-night, boys-good night, Mr. Longinus Polysyllabus Alexandrinus.”
“Good-night,” replied the stranger-“good-night, Doctor Edward Deleery; and good-night, Doctor Peter M’Clatchaghan-good-night.”
When the clergymen were gone, the circle about the fire, excepting the members of Ned’s family and the stranger, dispersed to their respective homes; and thus ended the amusement of that evening.
After they had separated, Ned, whose curiosity respecting the stranger was by no means satisfied, began to sift him in his own peculiar manner, as they both sat at the fire.
“Well, sir,” said Ned, “barring the long play-acther that tumbles upon the big stage in the street of our market-town, here below, I haven’t seen so long a man this many a day; and, barring your big hiskers, the sorra one of your honor’s unlike him. A fine portly vagabone he is, indeed-a big man, and a bigger rogue, they say, for he pays nobody.”
“Have you got such a company in your neighborhood?” inquired the stranger, with indifference.
“We have, sir,” said Ned, “but, plase goodness, they’ll soon be lashed like hounds from the place-the town boys are preparing to give them a chivey some fine morning out of the country.”
“Indeed!-he-hem! that will be very spirited of the town boys,” said the stranger dryly.
“That’s a smart looking horse your honor rides,” observed Ned; “did he carry you far to-day, with submission?”
“Not far,” replied his companion-“only fourteen miles; but, I suppose, the fact is, you wish to know who and what I am, where I came from and whither I am going. Well, you shall know this. In the first place, I am agent to Lord Non Resident’s estate, if you ever heard of that nobleman, and am on my way from Castle Ruin, the seat of his Lordship’s Incumbrances, to Dublin. My name you have already heard. Are you now satisfied?”
“Parfitly, your honor,” replied Ned, “and I am much obliged to you, sir.”
“I trust you are an honest man,” said the stranger, “because for this night I am about to place great confidence in you.”
“Well, sir,” said his landlord, “if I turn out dishonest to you, it’s more nor I did in my whole life to any body else, barring to Nancy.”
“Here, then,” said the stranger, drawing out a large packet, inclosed in a roll of black leather-“here is the half year’s rent of the estate, together with my own property: keep it secure till morning, when I shall demand it, and, of course, it will be safe?”
“As if it was five fadom, under ground,” replied Ned. “I will put it along with our own trifle of silver; and after that, let Nancy alone for keeping it safe, so long as it’s there;” saying which, Ned secured the packet, and showed the stranger his bed.
About five o’clock the next morning their guest was up, and ordered a snack in all haste; “Being a military man,” said he, “and accustomed to timely hours, I shall ride down to the town, and put a letter into the post-office in time for the Dublin mail, after which you may expect me to breakfast. But, in the meantime, I am not to go with empty pockets,” he added; when mounting his horse at the door-“bring me some silver, landlord, and be quick.”
“How much, plase your honor?”
“Twenty or thirty shillings; but, harkee, produce my packet, that I may be quite certain my property is safe.”
“Here it is, your honor, safe and sound,” replied Ned, returning from within; “and Nancy, sir, has sent you all the silver she has, which was One Pound Five; but I’d take it as a favor if your honor would be contint with twenty shillings, and lave me the odd five, for you see the case is this, sir, plase your honor, she,” and Ned, with a shrewd, humorous nod, pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, as he spoke- “she wears the - what you know, sir.”
“Ay, I thought so,” replied the stranger; “but a man of your size to be henpecked must be a great knave, otherwise your wife would allow you more liberty. Go in, man; you deserve no compassion in such an age of freedom as this. I sha’n’t give you a farthing till after my return, and only then if it be agreeable to your wife.” [13]
“Murdher!” said Ned, astonished, “I beg your honor’s pardon; but murdher alive, sir, where’s your whiskers?”
The stranger put his hand hastily to his face, and smiled-“Where are my whiskers? Why, shaved off, to be sure,” he replied; and setting spurs to his horse, was soon out of sight and hearing.
It was nearly a month after that, when Ned and Nancy, in presence of Father Deleery, opened the packet, and discovered, not the half-year’s rent of Lord Non-Resident’s estate, but a large sheaf of play-bills packed up together-their guest having been the identical person to whom Ned affirmed he bore so strong a resemblance.
[End] |