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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 ^ HANDY ANDY ^ 
 
 A TALE OF IRISH LIFE ^ 
 
 By SAMUEL LOVER 
 
 Author ot ' K.ORY O'MORE," "LEGENDS 
 AND STORIES OF IRELAND, ' "TREAS- 
 URE TROVE," etc, etc ^ jC ^ ,^ Jt 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS.
 
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 «1 
 
 ^ 
 
 ADDRESS. 
 
 1 HAVE been accused, in certain quarters, of giving flat- 
 gi tering portraits of my countrymen. Against this charge I 
 , 1^ may plead that, being a portrait-painter by profession, the 
 habit of taking the best view of my subject, so long preva- 
 lent in my eye, has gone deeper, and influenced my mind: 
 ■ — and if to paint one's country in its gracious aspect has 
 been a 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 
 
 this particular. That I love my country dearly I acknowl- 
 
 c edge, and I am sure every Englishman will respect me the 
 
 £- more for loving 7nine, when he is, with justice, proud of his 
 
 — but I repeat my disbelief that I overrate my own. 
 
 The present volume, I hope, will disarm any cavil from 
 old quarters on the score of national prejudice. The hero 
 '^ ^ is a blundering fellow whom no English or other gentle- 
 :g ^ man would like to have in his service; but still he has 
 r^ some redeeming natural traits: he is not made either a 
 brute or a villain; yet his "twelve months' character," 
 given in the successive numbers of this volume, would not 
 get him a place upon advertisement either in " Th( 
 Times "or *' The Chronicle." So far am i clear of tho 
 charge of national prejudice as regards the hero of the fol- 
 lowing pages. 
 
 In the subordinate personages, the reader will see two 
 "Squires'' of different types — good and bad; there are 
 such in all countries. And, as a tale can not get on with-
 
 n ADDRESS. 
 
 out villains, I have given some touches of villainy, quite 
 sufficient to prove my belief in Irish villains, though I 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 
 persons represented, of a gentleman and a patriot; and I 
 conceive there is a strong relationship between the two. 
 He loves the land that bore him — and so did most of the 
 great spirits recorded in history. His own mental cultiva- 
 tion, while it yields him personal enjoyment, teaches him 
 not to treat with contumely inferior men. Though he has 
 courage to protect his honor, he is not deficient in con- 
 science to feel for the consequences; and when opportunity 
 offers the means of amende, it is embraced. In a word, I 
 wish it to be believed that, while there are knaves, and 
 fools, and villains in Ireland — as in other parts of the 
 world — honest, intelligent, and noble spirits are there also. 
 
 I can not conclude without offering my sincere thanks 
 for the cordial manner in which my serial offering has been 
 received by the public, and noticed by the critical press, 
 whose valuable columns have been so often opened to it in 
 quotation; and, when it is considered how large an amount 
 of intellect is employed in this particular department of 
 literature, the highest names might be proud of such recog- 
 nition. 
 Londcni, \st December, 1843. 
 
 The reprinting of the foregoing address, attached to the 
 First Edition, sufficiently implies that my feelings and opin- 
 ions respecting my country and my countrymen remain 
 unchanged. So far, enough said. 
 
 I desire, however, to add a few words to inform, those 
 who may, for the first time, read the story in this the 
 Fourth Edition, that the early pages were written fifteen 
 years ago, as a magazine article; that the success of that 
 article led to the continuation of the subject in other arti-
 
 ADDRESS, Vll 
 
 cles, and so on, till, eventually, twelve monthly numbers 
 made up a book. A story thus originated could not be 
 other than sketchy and desultory, and open to the cap- 
 tiousness of overf astidious criticism ; it was never meant 
 to be a work of high pretension — only one of those easy 
 trifles which afford a laugh, and require to be read in the 
 same careless spirit of good humor in which they are 
 written. 
 
 In such a spirit, I am happy to say, "Handy Andy" 
 was read fourteen years ago, and has continued to be 
 read ever since; and as this reprint, in a cheaper form, 
 will open it to thousands of fresh readers, I give these 
 few introductory words to propitiate in the future the 
 kindly spirit which I gratefully remember in the past. 
 
 SAMUEL LOVER. 
 London, 26th July, 1854.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Andy Rooney was a fellow who had the most singu- 
 larly ingenious knack of doing everything the wrong way; 
 disappointment waited on all affairs in which he bore a 
 part, and destruction was at his fingers' ends; so the nick- 
 name the neighbors stuck upon him was Handy Andy, and 
 the jeering jingle pleased them. 
 
 Andy's entrance into this world was quite in character 
 with his after achievements, 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 the parent 
 fount unless he had one of his little red fists twisted into his 
 mother's hair, which he dragged till he made her roar; 
 while he diverted the pain by scratching her, till the 
 blood came, with the other. Nevertheless, she swore he 
 was " the loveliest and sweetest craythur the sun ever 
 shined upon;*' and when he was able to run about and 
 wield a little stick, and smash everything breakable belong- 
 ing to her, she only praised his precocious powers, and she 
 used to ask, " Did ever any one see a darlin' of his age 
 handle a stick so bowld as he did?" 
 
 Andy grew up in mischief and the admiration of his 
 mammy; but, to do him justice, he never meant harm in 
 the course of his life, and he was most anxious to offer his 
 services on all occasions to those who would accept them ; 
 but they were only the persons who had not already proved 
 Andy's peculiar powers. 
 
 There was a farmer hard by in this happy state of ig- 
 norance, named Owen Doyle, or, as he was familiarly 
 called, Oivny na Coppal, or, '' Owen of the Horses," be- 
 cause he bred many of these animals, and sold them at *ihe
 
 10 HANDY ANDt. 
 
 neighboring fairs; and Andy one day offered his services 
 to Owny when he was in want of some one to drive up a 
 horse to his house from a distant '" 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 never seen 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' bay an' a han'ful iv oats," said 
 Andy, *' if I should have to coax him." 
 
 " Sartinly," said Owny, who entered the stable and 
 came forth with the articles required by Andy, and a halter 
 for the horse also. 
 
 *' Now, take care," said Owny, " that you are able to 
 ride that horse if you get on him." 
 
 " Oh, never fear, sir. I can ride owld Lanty Gubbins' 
 mule betther nor any o' the boys on the common, and he 
 couldn't throw me th' other day, though he kicked the 
 shoes avhim." 
 
 " After that you may ride anythmg," said Owny; and 
 indeed it was true; for Lanty's mule, which fed on the 
 common, being ridden slyly by all the young vagabonds in 
 the neighborhood, had become such an adept in the art of 
 getting rid of his troublesome customers that it might well 
 be 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 that peculiar pace which is elegantly called a 
 ** sweep's trot;" and as the river lay between Owny Doyle's 
 and the bottom, and was too deep for Andy to ford at that 
 season, he went roimd by Dinny Dowling's mill, where a 
 email wooden bridge crossed the stream.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 11 
 
 Here he thought he might as well secure the assistance 
 of Paudeen, the miller's son, to help him in catching the 
 horse; so he looked about the jjlace until he found liini, 
 and telling him the errand on which he was going, said , 
 " If you like to come wid me, we can both have a ride.'' 
 This was temptation sufficient for Paudeen, and the bovs 
 proceeded together 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 me a lift on him:" 
 and accordingly, by Paudeen's catching Andy's left foot in 
 both his hands clasped together in the fashion of a stirrup, 
 he hoisted his friend on the horse's back; and as soon as 
 he was secure there. Master Paudeen, by the aid of Andy's 
 hand, contrived to scramble up after him; upon which 
 Andy applied his heel to the horse's side with many vig- 
 orous kicks, and crying " hurrup!" at the same time, en- 
 deavored to stimulate Owny's steed into something of a 
 pace as he turned liis head toward 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 acrassthe river." 
 
 " Yes, but I don't hke." 
 
 *' Is it afeared that you are?" said Paudeen. 
 
 " Not I, indeed!" said Andy; though it was really the 
 fact, for the width of the stream startled him, " but Owny 
 told me to take grate care o' the baste, and I'm loath to 
 wet his feet." 
 
 " Go 'long wid you, you fool I what harm would it do 
 him? Sure he's neither sugar nor salt that he'd melt." 
 
 " Well, I won't, anyhow," said Andy, who by this time 
 had got the horse into a good high trot, that shook every 
 word of argument out of Paudeen's body; besides, it was 
 as much as the boys could do to keep their seats on Owny's 
 Bucephalus, who was not long in reaching tlie miller's 
 bridge. Here voice and halter were emploj^ed to pull him 
 m, that he might cross the narrow wooden structure at a 
 quiet pace. But whether his double load had given him 
 the idea of double exertion, or that the pair of legs on each 
 side sticking into his flanks (and perhaps the horse was 
 ticklish) made him go the faster, we know not: but the 
 horse charged the bridge as if an Enniskillei>er were on his 
 back, and an enemy before him; and in two niinutea hig
 
 12 HANDY AXDY. 
 
 boofs clattered like thunder on the bridge, that did not 
 bend beneath him. No, it did not bend, but it broke; 
 proving tlie falsehood of the boast, " I may break, but I 
 won't bend;" for, after all, the really strong may bend, 
 and be as strong as ever; it is the unsound that has only 
 the seeming of strength, which breaks at last when it re- 
 sists too long. 
 
 Surprising was the spin the young equestrians took over 
 the ears of the horse, enough to make all the artists of Ast- 
 ley's envious; and plump they went into the river, where 
 each formed his own ring, and executed some comical 
 '* scenes in the circle," which were suddenly changed to 
 evolutions on the " flying cord " that Dinny Do wling threw 
 to the performers, which became suddenly converted into 
 a " tight rope," as he dragged the voltigeurs out of the 
 water; and for fear their blood might be chilled by the 
 accident, he gave them an enormous thrashing with a dry 
 end of the rope, just to restore circulation; and his exer- 
 tions, had they been witnessed, would have charmed the 
 Humane Society. 
 
 As for the horse, his legs stuck through the bridge, as 
 though he had been put in a chiroplast, and he went play- 
 ing away on the water with considerable execution, as if he 
 were accompanying himself in the song which he was 
 squealing at the top of his voice. Half the saws, hatchets, 
 ropes, and poles in the parish were put in requisition im- 
 mediately, and the horse's first lesson in cliirojjlaslic exer- 
 cise was performed with no other loss than some skin and 
 a good deal of hair. Of course Andy did not venture on 
 taking Owny's horse home; so the miller sent him to his 
 owner, with an account of the accident. Andy for years 
 kept out of Owny na Coppal's way; and at any time that 
 his presence was troublesome, the inconvenienced party 
 had only to say, " Isn't that Owny na Coppal commg this 
 way?" and Andy fled for his life. 
 
 When Andy gi*ew up to be what in country parlance is 
 mlled " a brave lump of a boy," his mother thought he 
 was old enough to do something for himself; so she took 
 him one day along with her to the Squire's, and waited out- 
 side the door, loitering up and down the yard behind the 
 house, among a crowd of beggars and great lazy dogs, that 
 were thrusting their heads into every iron pot that stood 
 outside the kitchen door, until chance might give her *' a
 
 HANDY ANDT. 13 
 
 sight o' t!ie Squire afore he wint out, or afore he wint in;" 
 and after spending her entire day in this idle way, at last 
 the Squire made his appearance, and Judy presented lier 
 son, who kept scraping his foot, and pulling his forelock, 
 that stuck out like a piece of ragged thatch from his fore- 
 head, making his obeisance to the Squire, while his mother 
 was sounding his praises for being the " handiest craythur 
 alive — and so willin' — nothin' comes wrong to him/' 
 
 " I suppose the English of all this is, you want me tc 
 take him?" said the Squire. 
 
 *' Troth, an' your honor, that's just it — if your hono] 
 would be plazed." 
 
 " What can he do?" 
 
 " Anything, your honor." 
 
 " That means nothing, I suppose," said the Squire. 
 
 " Oh, no, sir. Everything, I mane, that you would de- 
 sire him to do." 
 
 To every one of these assurances on his mother's par* 
 Andy made a bow and a scrape. 
 
 " Can he take care of horses?" 
 
 " The best of care, sir," said the mother; while the mill- 
 er who was standing 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, which he could hardly 
 smother from being heard, as well as seen. 
 
 " Let him come, then, and help in the stables, and we'll 
 gee what he can do." 
 
 " 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 honor's bed this blessed 
 night, I pray. " 
 
 " If you don't go, your son sha'n't come. " 
 
 Judy and her hopeful boy turned to the right about in 
 double-quick time, 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; and Andy's bold- 
 ness in this capacity soon made him a favorite with the 
 Squire, who was one of those rollicking boys on the pattern 
 of the old school, who scorned the attentions of a regular
 
 14 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 valet, and let any one that chance threw in his way bring 
 him his boots, or his hot water for shaving, or his coat, 
 whenever it was brushed. One morning, Andy, who was 
 very often the attendant on such occasions, came to his 
 room Avith hot water. He tapped at the door. 
 
 *' Who's that?'' said the Squire, who had just risen, and 
 did not know but it miglit be one of the women servants. 
 " It's me, sir." 
 ''Oh— Andy! Come in.'' 
 
 •'Here's tlie hot water, sir," said Andy, bearing an 
 enormous tin can. 
 
 " Why, what tlie d — 1 brings that enormous tin can 
 Ciere? You might as well bring the stable bucket. " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said Andy, retreating. In 
 two minutes more Andy came back, and, tapping at the 
 door, put ui his liead cautiously, and said, " The maids in 
 the kitchen, your honor, says there's not so much hot 
 water reaily. ' ' 
 
 " Did I net see it a moment since in your hand?" 
 " Yes, sir; but that's not the full o' the stable bucket." 
 " Go along, yoa stupid thief! and get me some hot water 
 directly." 
 
 " Win the can do, sir?" 
 " Ay, anything, so you make haste." 
 Olf posted Andy, and back he came with the can. 
 " Where' 11 I put it. sir?" 
 
 " Throw this out," said the Squire, handing Andy a jug 
 containing some cold water, meaning the jug to be replen- 
 ished with the hot. 
 
 Andy took the jug, and the window of the room being 
 open, he very deliberately threw the jug out. The Squire 
 stared with wonder, and at last said — 
 " What did you do that for?" 
 " Sure you iowhJ me to throw it out, sir." 
 *' Go out of this, you thick-headed villain!" said the 
 squire, throwing his boots at Andy's head, along with some 
 very neat curses. Andy retreated, and thought himself a 
 very ill-used person. 
 
 Though Andy's regular business was '' whipper-in," yet 
 he was liable to be called on for the performance of various 
 other duties: he sometimes attended at table when the 
 number of guests required that all the subs should be put 
 in requisition, or rode on some distant errand for the " mis-
 
 HANDY ANDY. 15 
 
 tress/' or drove out the nurse and children on the jaunt- 
 iug-car; and many were the mistakes, delays, or accidents, 
 arising from Handy Andy's interference in such matters; 
 but as they were seldom serious, and generally laughable, 
 they never cost him the loss of his place, or the Mq aire's 
 favor, who rather enjoyed And}'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 previous instructions, and Andy 
 was so lost in admiration at the sight of the assemnled 
 glass and plate, that he stood with his mouth and eyes wide 
 open, and scarcely heard a word that was said to li-.m. 
 After the head man had been dinning his uistructions into 
 him for some time, he said he might go, until his attend- 
 ance was required. But Andy moved not; he stood with 
 his eyes fixed by a sort of fascination on some object that 
 seemed to rivet them with the same unaccountable influence 
 which the rattlesnake exercises over its victim. 
 
 " What are you looking at?" said the butler. 
 
 " Them things," 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 them things afore." 
 
 " What things do you mean?" 
 
 " These things, sir," said Andy, taking up one of the 
 silver forks, and turning it round and round in his hand in 
 utter astonishment, while the butler grinned at his igno- 
 rance, and enjoyed his own superior knowledge. 
 
 " Well!" said Andy, after a long pause, " the devil be 
 from me if ever I seen a silver spoon split that way before !'* 
 
 The butler gave a horse laugh, and made a standing joke 
 of Andy's split spoon; but time and experience made Andy 
 less impressed with wonder at the show of plate and glass, 
 and the split spoons became familiar as " household words " 
 to him; yet still there were things in the duties of table 
 attendance beyond Andy's comprehension — he used to hand 
 cold plates for fish, and hot plates for jelly, etc. But 
 " one day," as Zanga says — " one day " he was thrown off 
 his center in a remarkable degree by a bottle of soda-water. 
 
 It was when that combustible was first introduced into 
 Ireland as a dinner beverage that the occurrence took place.
 
 16 HAXDY ANDY. 
 
 and Andy had the luck to be the person to whom a gentle^ 
 man applied for some soda-water. 
 
 " Sir?" said Andy. 
 
 " Soda-water," said the guest, in that subdued tone in 
 which people are apt to name their wants at a dinner-table. 
 Andy went to the butler. " Mr. Morgan, there's a gintle- 
 man — ' ' 
 
 " Let me alone, will you?'' said Mr. Morgan. 
 
 Andy maneuvered round him a little longer, and again 
 essayed to be heard. 
 
 " 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 and ax him," said Mr. Morgan. 
 
 Andy went off as he was bidden, and came behind the 
 gentleman's chair, 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?" 
 So<la- 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 understood in the present company, said, " Never 
 mind. " 
 
 But Andy was too anxious to please to be so satisfied, 
 and again applied to Mr. Morgan. 
 
 " Sir!" said he. 
 
 *' Bad luck to you! can't 3'^ou let me alone?" 
 
 *' There's a gintleman want's some soap and wather." 
 
 " Some what?" 
 
 *' Soap and wather, sir." 
 
 *' Divil sweep you! Soda- wather you mane. You'll get 
 it under the side-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 iu the bottom 0' the say!" said Mr. 
 
 it 
 
 (( 
 <( 
 it 
 (<
 
 HANDY ANDY. ' ' 17 
 
 Morgan, who was fuming and puflfing, and rubbing down 
 his face with a napkin, as he was hurrying to all quarters 
 of the room, or, as Andy said, in praising his activity, 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 I said, with no bottoms to them. " How 11 1 
 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 the bottle of soda-water on a level with the 
 candles that shed light over the festive board from a large 
 silver branch, and the moment he made the incision, bang 
 went the bottle of soda, knocking out two of the lights with 
 the projected cork, which, performing its parabola the 
 length of the 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, when he saw the soda- 
 water jumping out of the bottle, held it from him at arm's 
 length; every fizz it made, exclaiming, " Ow! — ow! — ow!'" 
 and, at last, when the bottle was empty, he roared out, 
 *'0h. Lord! it's all gone!" 
 
 Great was the commotion; few could resist laughter ex- 
 cept the ladies, who all looked at their gowns, not liking 
 the mixture of satin and soda-water. The extinguished 
 candles were relighted — the Squire got his eye open again 
 — and the next time he perceived the butler sufficiently 
 near to speak to him, he said in a low and hurried tone of 
 deep anger, while he knit liis brow, " Send that fellow out 
 of the room!" but, within the same instant, resumed his 
 former smile, that beamed on all around as if nothing had 
 happened. 
 
 Andy was expelled the salle a manger in disgrace, and 
 for days kept out of the master's and mistress' way: in 
 the meantime the butler made a good story of the thing in 
 the servants' hall; and, when he held up Andy's ignorance 
 to ridicule, by telling how he asked for " soap and water,'' 
 x\ndy was given the name of " Suds," and was called by 
 no other for months after. 
 
 But, though Andy's functions in the interior were sus- 
 pended, his services in out-of-door affairs were occasionally 
 put in requisition. But here his evil genius still haunted 
 ftim, and he put his foot in a piece of business his master
 
 18 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 pent him upon one day, whicli was eo simple as to defy 
 almost the chance of Andy making any mistake about it; 
 but Andy was very ingenious in his own particidar line. 
 
 " Ride into tlie town and see if there's a letter for me,^' 
 said the Squire one 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 Fd 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 at Andy's excuse for remaining in ignorance. 
 
 "Well," continued he, " go to the post-office. You 
 know the post-office, I supjiose?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, where they sell gunpowder." 
 
 " You're right for once," said the Squire; for his Muj- 
 esty's postmaster was the person who had the privilege of 
 dealing in the aforesaid combustible. " Go then to the 
 post-office, and ask for a letter for me. Eemember — not 
 gunpowder, but a letter." 
 
 " Yis, sir," said Andy, who got astride of his hack, and 
 trotted away to the post-office. On arriving at the shop of 
 the postmaster (for that person carried on a brisk trade in 
 groceries, gimlets, broadcloth, and linen -drapery), Andy 
 presented himself at the counter, and said, " I want a let- 
 ther, sir, if you plaze. " 
 
 " Who do you want it for?" said the postmaster, in a 
 tone whicli Andy considered an aggression upon the sacred- 
 ness of private life: so Andy thought the coolest contempt 
 he could throw upon the prying impertinence of the post- 
 master 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
 
 HANDY ANDY. 19 
 
 could not tell what 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 vou 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, 
 hov/ can I give you a letter?" 
 
 "You could give it if you liked: but you're fond of 
 ' axin' impident questions, 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 dare to say 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 
 eonsint." 
 
 " I w^on't give you any letter for the Squire, unless I 
 know you 're "his servant. Is there any one in the town 
 knows you?" 
 
 " Plenty," said Audy, " it's not every one is as igno- 
 rant 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's letter. " Have you one for 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the postmaster, producing one — " four- 
 pence." 
 
 The gentleman paid the fourpence postage, and left the 
 shop with his letter. 
 
 " Here's a letter for the Squire," said the postmaster; 
 " you've to pay me elevenpence postage." 
 
 " What 'ud I pay elevenpence for?" 
 
 " For postage." 
 
 " To the devil wid you! Didn't I see you give Mr. 
 Durfy a letther for fourpence this minit, and a bigger let 
 ther than this? and now you want me to pay elevenpence 
 for this scrap of a thing. Do you think I'm a fool?" 
 
 " No; but I'm sure of it/' said the postmaster.
 
 20 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " Well, you're wclkum to be sure, sure — but don't be 
 delayin' me now: here's fourpence for vou, and gi' me the 
 letther/' 
 
 " Go along, you stupid thief!'' said the postmaster, tak- 
 ing 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 down the shop, every now and then putting 
 in his head in the middle of the customers, and saying, 
 " Will you gi' me the letther?" 
 
 He waited for above half an hour, in defiance of the 
 anathemas of the postmaster, and at last left, when he f omid 
 it impossible to get common justice for his master, wliich he 
 thought he deserved as well as another man; for, under 
 this impression, Andy determined to give no more than the 
 fourpence. 
 
 The Squire in the meantime was getting impatient for 
 his return, and when 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 double for it." 
 
 " May be it's a double letter. Why the devil didn't you 
 pay what he asked, sir?" 
 
 " Arrah, sir, why should I let you be chated? It's not 
 a double letther at all: not above half the size o' one Mr. 
 Durfy got before my face for fourpence." 
 
 " You'll provoke me to break your neck some day, you 
 vagabond! Eide back for your life, you omadhaun; and 
 pay whatever he asks, and get me the letter." 
 
 " Why, sir, I tell you he was sellin' them before my face 
 for fourpence apiece. " 
 
 "Go back, you scoundrel! or I'll horsewhip you; and if 
 you're longer than an hour, I'll have you ducked in the 
 horse-pond!" 
 
 Andy vanished, and made a second visit to the post-ofl5ce. 
 When he arrived, two other persons were getting letters,
 
 HANDY AXDY. 91 
 
 and the postmaster was selecting the epistles for each, from 
 a large parcel that lay before him on the counter; at the 
 same time many shop customers were waiting to be served. 
 
 '' Fm come for that letther," said Andy. 
 
 "Ill 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 an- 
 swers to these ajjpeals for dispatch, Andy's eye caught the 
 heap of letters which lay on the counter: so while certain 
 weighing of soap and tobacco was going forward, he con- 
 trived to become possessed of two letters from the heap, 
 and, having effected that, waited jjatiently enough till it 
 was the great man's pleasure to give him the missive di- 
 rected to his master. 
 
 Then did Andy besti'ide his hack, and in triumph at his 
 trick on the postmaster, rattled along the road homeward as 
 fast as the beast could carry him. He came into the 
 Squire's presence, liis face beaming with delight, and an aii 
 of self-satisfied superiority in his manner, quite unaccount- 
 able to his master, until he pulled forth las hand, which 
 had been grubbing up his prizes from the bottom of liis 
 pocket; and holding tliree letters over his head, while he 
 said, " Look at that!" he next slapped 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 honor the worth o' your money anyhow!" 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Andy walked out of the room with an air of supreme 
 triumph, having laid the letters on the table, and left the 
 Squire staring after liim in perfect amazement. 
 
 "Well, by the powers! that's the most extraordinary 
 genius I ever came across," was the soliloquy the master 
 uttered as the servant closed the door after him; and the 
 Squire broke the seal of the letter that Andy's blundering 
 had so long delayed. It was from his law-agent on the sub- 
 ject of an expected election in the county, which would oc-
 
 22 UANDY ANDY. 
 
 cur in case of the demise of the then sitting member— it 
 
 ran thus: 
 
 " Dublin, Thursday. 
 
 *' My deae Squire, — I am making all possible exer- 
 tions to have every and the earliest information on the sub- 
 ject of the election. I say the election — because, though 
 tlie 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 Trim- 
 mer has been so undecided atl his life that he can not at 
 E resent make up his mind to die; and it is only by death 
 imself 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 mur- 
 der any one that dares to give a vote against you. We are 
 sure of Kuockdoughty, also, and the very pigs in Glana- 
 muck 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 Honorable Sackville Scatter- 
 brain, who sits for the Borough of Old Goosebery at pres- 
 ent, 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 alTord 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-ratt
 
 HANDY AXDT. 23 
 
 when a boy. They are destroying the place with their 
 
 d d improvements. Ail the dogs are well, I hope, and 
 
 my favorite bitch. Remember me to Mrs. Egan, whom 
 all admire. 
 
 " My dear squire, yours per quire, 
 
 "' MuETOUGH Murphy. 
 ** To Edward Egan, Esq., Merry vale." 
 
 Murtough Murphy was a great character, as may be 
 guessed from his letter. He was a country attorney of 
 good practice; good, because he coidd not help it — for he 
 was a clever, ready-witted fellow up to all sorts of trap, and 
 one in whose hands a cause was very safe; therefore he 
 had plenty of clients without his seeking them. For if 
 Murtough's practice had depended on his looking for it, 
 he might have made broth of his own parchment; for 
 though to all intents and purposes a good attorney, he was 
 so full of fun and fond of amusement, that it was only by 
 dint of the business being thrust upon him he was so ex- 
 tensive a practitioner. He loved a good bottle, a good 
 hunt, a good joke, and a good song, as well as any fellow 
 in Ireland : and even when he was obliged in the way of 
 busuiess to press a gentleman hard — to hunt his man to 
 the death — he did it so good-humoredly that his very 
 victim could not be angry Avith him. As for those he 
 served, he was their prime favorite; there M'as nothing 
 they could want to be done in the parchment line that 
 Murtough would not find out some way of doing; and he 
 was so pleasant a fellow, that he shared in the hospitality 
 of all the best tables in the county. He kept good horses, 
 was on every race-ground within twenty miles, and a 
 steeple-chase was no steeple-chase without him. Then he 
 betted freely, and, what's more, won his bets very gen- 
 erally; 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 money yourself, you were glad it was won by Murtough 
 Murphy. 
 
 The Squire read his letter two or three times, and made 
 his comments as he proceeded. " ' Working heaven and 
 earth to ' — ha I — so that's the work 0' Grady's at — that's old 
 friendship — foul! — foul! and after all the money I lent 
 himj too J— he'd better take care — I'll be down on him if
 
 24. HANDY ANDY. 
 
 he plays false-, — not that I'd like that much either: — but— 
 let's see who's this coming down to oppose me? — Sack 
 Scatterbrain — the biggest fool from this to himself; — the 
 fellow can't ride a bit — a pretty member for a sporting 
 county! ' I lodge at a milliner's' — divil doubt you, Mur- 
 tough; I'll engage you do. Bad luck to him! — he'd rather 
 be fooling away his time in a back parlor, behind a bonnet 
 shop, than minding the interests of the county. ' Pension ' 
 — ha! — wants it sure enough; — take care, 0' Grady, or, by 
 the powers, I'll be at you. You may balk all the bailiffs, 
 and defy any other man to serve you with a writ; but, by 
 jingo! if I take the matter in hand, I'll be bound I'll get 
 it done. 'Stephen's Green — big ditch — where I used to 
 hunt water-rats.' Divil sweep you. Murphy, you'd rather 
 be hunting water-rats any day than minding your business. 
 He's a clever fellow for all that. ' Favorite bitch — Mrs. 
 Egan.' Ay! there's the end of it — with his bit o' po'- 
 thry, too! The divil!" 
 
 The Squire threw down the letter, and then his eye 
 caught the other two that Andy hsul purloined. 
 
 *' More of that stupid blackguard's work! — robbing the 
 mail — no less! — that fellow will be hanged some time or 
 other. Egad, may be they'll hang him for this! What's 
 the best to be done? May be it will be the safest way to 
 see whom they are for, and send them to the parties, and 
 request they will say nothing: that's it." 
 
 The Squire here took up the letters that lay before liim, 
 to read their superscriptions; and the first he turned over 
 was directed to Gustavus Granby 0' Grady, Esq., Neck-or- 
 nothing Hall, Knockbotherum. This was what is called 
 a curious coincidence. Just as he had been reading all 
 about 'Grady's intended treachery to him, here was a 
 letter to that individual, and with the Dublin postmark 
 too, and a very grand seal. 
 
 The Squire examined the arms; and, though not versed 
 in the mysteries of heraldry, he thought he remembered 
 enough of most of the arms he had seen to say that this 
 armorial bearing was a strange one to him. He turned 
 the letter over and over again, and looked at it back and 
 front, with an expression in liis face that said, as plain as 
 countenance could speak, " I'd give a trifle to know what 
 is inside of this." He looked at the seal again: *' Here's 
 a — ^goose I think it is, sitting on a bowl with cross-bars on
 
 HAXDY A^'•DY. 25 
 
 it, and a spoon in its moutli: like the fellow that owns it, 
 may be. A goose with a silver spoon in its mouth — well, 
 here's the gable-end of a house, and a bird sitting on the 
 top of it. Could, it be Sparrow? There is a fellow called 
 Sparrow, an under-secretary at the Castle. 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 up again in a few seconds, and catching it edge- 
 wise between his forefinger and thumb, gave a gentle press- 
 ure that made the letter gape at its extremities, and then, 
 exercising that sidelong glance which is peculiar to post- 
 masters, waiting-maids, and magpies who inspect marrow- 
 bones, 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 was screwed up to the 
 scrutinizing pucker, gradually lengthened as he caught 
 some words that were on the last turn-over of the sheet, and 
 so could be read thoroughly, and his brow darkened into 
 the deepest frown as he scanned these lines : " As you very 
 properly and pungently remark, poor Egan is a spoon — a 
 mere spoon." " Am I a spoon, you rascal?" said the 
 Squire, 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 the Egans rose as the head of 
 that pugnacious family strode up and down the room : 
 ''I'll spoon you, my buck! — I'll settle your hash! may be 
 I'm a spoon you'll sup sorrow with yet!" 
 
 Here he took up the poker, and made a very angry lunge 
 ttt the fire that did not want stirring, and there he beheld 
 the letter blazing merrily away. He dropped the poker as 
 if he had caught it by the hot end, as he exclaimed, " What 
 the d— 1 shall I do? I've burned the letter!" This threw 
 the Squire into a fit of what he was wont to call his " con- 
 sidering cap;" and he sat with his feet on the fender for 
 some minutes, occasionally muttering to himself what he 
 began with — " What the d — 1 shall I do? It's all owing 
 to that infernal Andy — I'll murder that fellow some time 
 or other. If he hadn't brought it — I shouldn't have seen 
 it, to be sure, if I hadn't looked; but then the temptation 
 — a saint couldn't have withstood it. Confound it! what 
 a stupid trick to burn it! Another here, too — must burn 
 that as well, and say nothing about either of them;" aiid 
 he took up the second letter, and, merely looking at the
 
 26 HAXDY AXDY 
 
 address, threw it into the fire. He then rang the bell, and 
 desired Andy to be sent to him. As soon as that ingenious 
 individual made his appearance, the Squire desired him, 
 with peculiar emphasis, to shut the door, and then opened 
 upon liim with: 
 
 " You unfortunate rascal?" 
 
 " Yis, your honor. " 
 
 " 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?" 
 y 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; you absolutely might be hanged for robbing 
 the post-office." 
 
 *' Sure I didn't know there was any harm in what I 
 done; and for that matter sure, if they're sitch wonderful 
 value, can't I go back again wid '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 sui'e?" 
 
 *'Sartin!" 
 
 " Take care, then, that you never open your mouth to 
 mortal about it, or you'll be hanged, as sure as your name 
 IS Andy Rooney. " 
 
 " Oh! at that rate I never will. But may be your honor 
 thinks I ought to be hanged?" 
 
 " No — because you did not intend to do a wrong thing; 
 but, only I have pity on you, I could hang you to-morrow 
 for what you have done. " 
 
 " Thank you, sir." 
 
 " I've burned the letters, so no one can know anything 
 about the business unless you tell on yourself; so remember 
 — not a word." 
 
 *' Jaith, I'll be dumb as the dumb baste." 
 
 " Go now; and once for all, remember you'll be hanged 
 so sure as you ever mention one word about this affair." 
 
 Andy made a bow and a scrape, and left the Squire, who 
 hoped the secret was safe. He then took a ruminating
 
 HANDY ANDY. 27 
 
 walk round the pleasure-grounds, revolving plans of retalia- 
 tion upon his false friend 0' Grady and having determined 
 to put the most severe and sudden measure of the law in 
 force against him, for the money in which he was indebted 
 to him, he only awaited the arrival of Murtough Murphy 
 from Dublin to execute his vengeance. Having settled 
 this in his own mind, he became more contented, and said, 
 with a self-satisfied nod of the head, " We'll see who's the 
 spoon. " 
 
 In a few days Murtough Murphy returned from Dublin, 
 and to Merrj^vale he immediately proceeded. The Squire 
 opened to him directly his intention of commencing hostile 
 law proceedings against O'Grady, and asked. what most 
 summary measures could be put in practice against him. 
 
 " Oh! various, various, my dear Squire," said Murphy; 
 " but I don't see any great use in doing so yet — he has not 
 openly avowed himself." 
 
 " But does he not intend to coalesce with the other 
 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, the pension 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 pensions for his own family; and there are a great 
 many complaints in the market against him for plucking 
 that blackberry-bush very bare indeed; and unless Sack 
 Scatterbrain has swingeing interest, the pension may not 
 be such an easy thing." 
 
 " But still 0' 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 a twelve-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, or he'll be a troublesome customer on the other." 
 
 " I'll keep no terms with him; I'll slap at him directly. 
 What can you do that's wickedest? latitat, capias — fee-faw 
 fum, or whatever you call it?'*
 
 
 28 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " Hallo! Squire, you're 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 the same. I'll slap at him — I'll blister him!" 
 
 Murtough Murphy wondered at this bhnd fury of the 
 Squire, who, being a good-humored and good-natured fel- 
 low in general, puzzled the attorney the more by his pres- 
 ent manifest malignity against O'Grady. But he had not 
 seen the turn-over of the letter: he had not seen " spoon," 
 the real and secret cause of the " war-to-the-knife *' spirit 
 which was kindled in the Squire's breast. 
 
 '* Of course, you can do what you please; but, if you'd 
 take a friend's advice — " 
 
 " 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, my boy: let loose the dogs of law on 
 him, and harass him till he'd wish the d — 1 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 no use, 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 the inside of him." 
 
 " Why, his house is barricaded like a Jail, and he has 
 dogs enough to bait all the bulls in the country." 
 
 '* No matter: just send me the blister for him, and 111 
 engage I'll stick it on him." 
 
 ' Very well, Squire ; you shall have the blister as soon as 
 it can be got ready. I'll tell you when you may send over 
 to me for it, and your messenger shall have it hot and 5 
 warm for him. Good-bye, Squire." 
 
 " Good-bye, Murphy! — lose no time." 
 
 ** In the twinkling of a bedpost. Are you going to Tom 
 Durfy's steeple-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 are 
 two 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's making up to the widow; and 
 as he's a slashing fellow, she's nothing loath, and, for fear 
 of any one cutting him out, Tom keeps as sharp a lookout 
 after her as she does after him; he's fierce on it, and looks 
 pistols at any one that attempts jjutting his comether on 
 the widow, while she looks ' as soon as you plaze, ' as plain 
 as an optical lecture can enlighten the heart of man : in 
 short, Tom's all ram's horns, and the widow's all sheep's 
 eyes. Good-bye, Squire. " And Murtough put his spurs 
 to his horse, and cantered down the avenue, whistling the 
 last popular tune. 
 
 Andy was sent over to Murtough Murphy's for the law- 
 process at the appointed time; and as he had to pass 
 through the village, Mrs. Egan desired him to call at the 
 apothecary's for some medicine that was prescribed for one 
 of the children. 
 
 ^' What'U I ax for, ma'am?'' 
 
 " I'd be Sony to trust to you, Andy, for remembering. 
 Here's the prescription; take care of it, and Mr. M' Garry 
 will give you something to 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 pow- 
 der, don't let it get wet as you did the sug^r the other 
 day." 
 
 " No, ma'am." 
 
 " And if it's a bottle^ don't break it, as you did the 
 last." 
 I " No, ma'am." 
 
 *' And make haste." 
 
 " Yis, ma'am;" and off went Andy. 
 
 In going through the village, he forgot to leave the pre- 
 scription at the apothecary's and pushed on for the attor- 
 ney's; there he saw Murtough 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 sincaC saw yo*l 
 last?" ' 
 
 Andy grinned. 
 
 " Did you kill any more dogs lately, Andy?"
 
 30 HADNY ANDY. 
 
 " Faix, you're too hard on me, sir; sure I never killed 
 but one dog, and that was an accident — " 
 
 " An accident! curse your impudence, you thief! Do 
 you think, if you killed one of the pack on purpose, we 
 wouldn't cut the yery heart out o' you with our hunting- 
 whips?" 
 
 " Faith, I wouldn't doubt you, sir; but, sure, how could 
 I help that divil of a mare ruunin' 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 among flax as that one. " 
 
 Well, be oil' with you now, Andy, and take care of 
 what I gave you for the Squire." 
 
 " Oh, never fear, sir," said Andy, as he turned his 
 horse's head homeward. He stopped at the apotliecary'e 
 in tlie village, to excute his commission for the " misthis." 
 On telling the son of Galen that he wanted some physic 
 " for one of the childre up at the big house," the dispenser 
 of the healing art asked ivhat physic he wanted. 
 
 " Faith, I dunna v/hat physic." 
 
 " Wliat's the matter with the child?" 
 
 " He's sick, sir." 
 
 " I supppse so, indeed, or you wouldn't be sent for medi- 
 cine, you're always making some blunder. You come here, 
 and don't know what description 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 his mistress intrusted him with, until he had 
 emptied them thoroughly of their contents upon the 
 counter of the shop; and then, taking the prescription 
 from the collection, he said: " So you tell me I don't know 
 the description of the physic I'm to get. Now, you see, 
 you're out; for that's the description!" and he slapped the 
 counter impressively with his hand as he threw down the 
 recipe before the apothecary. 
 
 Wliile the medicine was in the course of preparation for 
 Andy, he commenced restoring to his pockets the various 
 parcels he had taken from them in hunting for the recipe. 
 Now, it happened that he had laid them down close beside 
 some articles that were compounded . and sealed up for going 
 out, on the apothecary's counter: and as the law process
 
 HANDT ANDY. 31 
 
 which Andy had received from Murtough Murphy chanced 
 10 resemble in form another inclosure that lay beside it, 
 containing a blister, Andy, under the influence of his 
 peculiar genius, popped the blister into his pocket instead 
 of the package which had been confided to him by the at- 
 torney, and having obtained the necessary medicine from 
 M'Garry, rode home with great self-complacency that he 
 had not forgot to do a single thing that had been intrusted 
 to him. "I'm all right this time,'' said Andy to himself. 
 
 Scarcely had he lefc the apothecary's when another mes- 
 senger alighted at its door, and asked " If Squire 0' Grady's 
 things was ready?" 
 
 " There they are," said the innocent M'Garry, pointing 
 to the bottles, boxes, and Mister, he had made up and set 
 aside, little dreaming that the blister had been exchanged 
 foi- a law process: and Squire O'Grady's own messenger 
 popped into his pocket the legal instrument that it was as 
 much as any seven men's lives were worth to bring within 
 gunshot of Neck-or-nothing Hall. 
 
 Home he went, and the sound of the old gate creaking on 
 its hinges at the entrance of the avenue awoke the deep- 
 mouthed dogs around the house, who rushed infuriate to 
 the spot to devour the unholy intruder on the peace and 
 privacy of the patrician 0' Grady; but they recognized the 
 old gray hack and his rider, and quietly wagged their tails 
 and trotted back, and licked their lips at the thoughts of 
 the bailiff they had hoped to eat. The door of "Neck-or- 
 nothing Hall was carefully unbarred and unchained, and 
 the nurse-tender was handed the parcel from the apothe- 
 cary's, and reascended to the sick-room with slippered foot 
 as quietly as she could; for the renowned O'Grady was, ac- 
 cording to her account, " as cross as two sticks;" and she 
 protested, furthermore, " that her heart was gray with 
 him." 
 
 "Whenever O'Grady was m a bad humor, he had a strange 
 fashion of catching at some word that either he himself, or 
 those with whom he spoke, had uttered, and after often re- 
 
 E eating it, or rather mumbling it over in his mouth, as ii 
 e were chewing it, off he started into a canter of ridicu- 
 lous rhymes to the aforesaid word, and sometimes one of 
 these rhymes would suggest a new idea, or some strange 
 association which had the oddest effect possible; and to in- 
 crease the absurdity, the jingle was gone through with aa
 
 32 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 much solemnity as if he were indulging in a deep and in- 
 teresting reverie, so that it was difficult to listen without 
 laughing., which might prove a serious matter when 
 0' Grady was in one of his tantarums, as his wife used to 
 call them. 
 
 Mrs. 0' Grady was near the bed of the sick man as the 
 nurse-tender entered. 
 
 *' Here's the things for your honor, now," said she, in 
 her most soothing tone. 
 
 " I wish the d — 1 had you and them!" said 0' Grady. 
 
 " Gusty dear!" said his wife. (She might have said 
 stormy instead of gusty.) 
 
 "Oh! they'll do you goad, your honor," said the nurse- 
 tender, courtesying, and uncorking bottles, and opening a 
 pill-box. 
 
 0' 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 — take them — shake them. When taken — to 
 be well shaken — show me that bottle.'" 
 
 The nurse-tender handed a vial, which 0' Grady shook 
 violently. 
 
 " Curse them all!" said the Squire. " A pretty thing 
 to have a gentleman's body made a perfect sink for these 
 blackguard doctors and apothecaries to pour their dirty 
 drugs into — faugh! drugs — mugs — jugs!" He shook the 
 vial again, and looked through it. 
 
 " Isn't it nice and pink, darlin'?" said the nurse-tender. 
 
 " Pink!" said 0' Grady, epng her askance, as if he 
 could have eaten her. " Pink, you old besom, pink " — ho 
 uncorked the phial, and put it to his nose. " Pink — 
 phew — !" and he repeated a rhyme to pink which would 
 not look well in print. 
 
 " Now, sir, dear, there's a little blister just to go on 
 your chest — if you plaze. " 
 
 '' Xwhatr' 
 
 " A warm plasther, dear.'" 
 
 " A blister you said, you old divil !" 
 
 " Well, sure it's something to relieve you." 
 
 The Squire gave a deep growl, and his wife put in the 
 usual appeal of " Gusty, dear!" 
 
 " Hold your tongue, will you? How would yoii like it.'' 
 I wish you had it on vour- 
 
 }f
 
 HAMDY ANDY. 33 
 
 *' Deed -an -deed, dear," said the nurse-tender. 
 
 " By the 'ternal war! if jou say another woixi, Fll throw 
 the jug at you!'* 
 
 " And there's a nice dhrop o' gruel I have on the fire 
 for you," said the nurse, pretending not to mind the rising 
 anger of the Squire, as she stirred the gruel with one hand, 
 while with the other she marked herself witli tlie sign of 
 the cross, and said in a mumbling manner, " God presarve 
 us! he's the most cantankerous Christian I ever keni 
 across!" 
 
 " Show 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 hirst o' your 
 shirt, and let me put 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 that the nurse paused in her unfolding of the 
 packet, and handed it with fear and trembling to the 
 already indignant 0' Grady. But it is only imagination can 
 figure the outrageous fury of the Squire when, on opening 
 the envelope with his own hand, he beheld the law process 
 before him. There, in the heart of his castle, with his 
 bars, and bolts, and bull-dogs, and blunderbusses around 
 him, he was served — absolutely served — and he had no 
 doubt the nurse-tender was bribed to betray him. 
 
 A roar and a jump up in bed first startled his wife into 
 terror and put the nurse on the defensive. 
 
 '' You infernal old strap!" shouted he, as he clutched 
 up a handful of bottles on the table near him and flung 
 them at the nurse, who was near the fire at the time : and 
 she whipped the pot of gruel from the grate, and converted 
 it into a means of defense against the vial-pelting storm. 
 
 Mrs. O'Grady rolled herself up in the bed-curtains while 
 the nurse screeched " Murther!" and at last, when O'Grady 
 saw that bottles were of no avail, he scrambled out of bed, 
 shouting, " Where's my blunderbuss?" and the nurse- 
 tender, while he endeavored to get it down from the rack 
 where it was suspended over the mantel-piece, bolted out 
 of the door, and ran to the most remote corner of the house 
 for shelter.
 
 34 HANDY AKDT. 
 
 In the meantime, how fared it at Merryrale? Andy re« 
 turned with his parcel for the Squire, and his note from 
 Murtough Murphy, which ran thus: — 
 
 " My dear Squire, — I send you the i^ts^er for O'Grady 
 as you insist on it; but I think you won't find it easy in 
 eerve him with it. 
 
 " Your obedient and obliged, 
 
 '' Murtough Murphy. 
 *' To Edward Egcm, Esq, MerryvaU." 
 
 The Squire opened the cover, and, when he saw a real 
 instead of a figurative blister, grew crimson with rage. He 
 could not speak for some minutes, his indignation was so 
 excessive. " So," said he at last, " Mr. Murtough Mur- 
 phy, you think to cut your jokes with me, do you? By all 
 that's sacred, I'll cut such a joke on you with the biggest 
 horsewhip I can find, that you'll remember it. ' Dear 
 Squire, I send you the blister.' Bad luck to your impi- 
 dence! Wait till awhile ago — that's all. By this and 
 that, you'll get such a blistering from me, that all th© 
 spermaceti in M' Garry's shop won't cure you." 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 Squire Egan was as good as his word. He picked out 
 the most suitable horsewhip for chastising the fancied im- 
 pertinence of Murtough Murphy; and as he switched it up 
 and down with a powerful arm, to try its weight and pli- 
 ancy, the whistling of the instrument through the air 
 was music to his ears, and whispered of promised joy in 
 the flagellation of the 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-skelter sort of fellow, better known over 
 the country as Dick the Divil than Dick Dawson. 
 
 " I'll back your bet, Ned." 
 
 *' There's no fun in that. Lick, as there is nobody to 
 take it up." 
 
 " May be Murtough will. Ask him before you thrash 
 him; you'd better."
 
 HANDY AKDT. 35 
 
 ** As for Jiim," said the Squire, ** Fll be bound he'll 
 back my bet after he gets a taste o' this;" and the horse- 
 whip whistled as he spoke. 
 
 " I think he had better take care of his back than his 
 bet,*' said Dick as he followed the Squire to the hall-door, 
 where his horse was in waiting for him, under the care of 
 the renowned Andy, who little dreamed of the extensive 
 harvest of mischief which was ripening in futurity, all from 
 his sowing. 
 
 " Don't kill him quite, Ned," said Dick, as the Squire 
 mounted to his saddle. 
 
 " AVliy, if I went to horsewhij? a gentleman, of course I 
 should only shake my whip at him; but an attorney is an- 
 other affair. And, as I'm sure he'll have an action against 
 me for assault, I think I may as well get the worth of my 
 money out of him, to say nothing of teaching him better 
 manners 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 was not at home when the 
 Squire reached his house; but as he wa^ returning through 
 the village, he espied him coming doAvn the street in com- 
 pany with Tom Durfy and the widow, who were laughing 
 heartily at some joke Murtough was telling them, which 
 seemed to amuse him as much as his hearers. 
 
 " I'll make him laugh on the wrong side of his mouth,'* 
 thought the Squire, alighting and giving his horse to the 
 care of one of the little ragged boys who were idling in the 
 street. He approached Murphy with a very threatening 
 aspect, and confronting him and his party so as to produce 
 a halt, he said, as distinctly as liis rage would permit him 
 to speak, " You little insignificant blackguard, I'll teach 
 you how you'll cut your jokes on me again; I'll blister 
 you, my buckl" and laying hands on the astonished Mur- 
 tough with the last word, he began a very smart horse- 
 whipping of the attorney. The widow screamed, Tom 
 Durfy swore, and Murtough roared, with some interjec- 
 tional curses. At last he escaped from the Squire's grip, 
 leaving the lapel of his coat in his possession; and Tom 
 Durfy interposed his person between them when he saw an 
 intention on the part of the flagellator to repeat his dose of 
 horsewhip. 
 
 " Let me at him, sir, or by—"
 
 36 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 •* py, fy. Squire! — ^to horsewhip a gentlemanlike a cart- 
 horse. 
 
 " A gentleman! — an attorney you mean/' 
 '* I say a gentleman. Squire Egan," cried Murtough 
 fiercely, roused to gallantry by the presence of a lady, and 
 smarting under a sense of injuiy and whalebone. " Fm a, ' 
 gentleman, sir, and demand the satisfaction of a gentle- 
 man. I put my honor into your hands, Mr. Durfy."' 
 
 '' Between his finger and thumb, you mean, for there's 
 not a handful of it,'^ said the Squire. 
 
 "Well, sir,'' replied Tom Durfy, "little or much. 111 
 take charge of it. That's right, my cock," said he to 
 Murtough, who, notwithstanding his desire to assume a 
 warlike air, could not resist the natural impulse 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's friend?" 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: 111 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 blood-thirsty!" 
 
 ** 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 hell make 
 no apology." 
 
 " Apology!" said Durfy, " apology for a horsewhipping, 
 indeed! Nothing but handing a horsewhip (which I 
 wouldn't ask any gentleman to do), or a 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 get something under youi 
 nose to revive you: and let im mind our own business."
 
 HANDY ANDT. 37 
 
 The widow with her eyes turned up, and an exclamation 
 to Heaven, was retiring to M' Garry's shop, wringing her 
 hands, when she was nearly knocked down by M' Garry 
 himself, who rushed from his own door, at the same mo- 
 ment that an awful smash of his shop- window and the 
 demolition of his blue and red bottles alarmed the ears of 
 the by-standers, while their eyes were drawn from the late 
 belligerent parties to a chase which took place down the 
 street of the apothecary, roaring " Murder!"' followed by 
 Squire "Grady with an enormous cudgel. 
 
 0' Grady, believing that M'Gany and the nurse-tender 
 had combmed to serve him with a writ, determined to 
 wreak double vengeance on the apothecary, as the nurse 
 had escaped him; and, notwithstanding all his illness and 
 the appeals of his wife, he left his bed and rocj^ to the vil- 
 lage, to "break every bone in M" Garry's skin."' When 
 he entered the shop, the pharmacopolist was much sur- 
 prised, and said, with a congratulatory grin at the great 
 man, " Dear me. Squire 0" Grady, I'm delighted to see 
 
 you." 
 
 "Are you, you scoundrel!" said the Squire, making a 
 blow of his cudgel at him, which was fended off by an iron 
 pestle the apothecary fortunately had in his hand. The 
 enraged 'Grady made a rush behind the counter, which 
 the apothecary nimbly jumped over, crying " Murder!" 
 as he made for the door, followed by his pursuer, who gave 
 a back-handed slap at the window-bottles e)i pas^-ant, and 
 produced the crash which astonished the widow, who now 
 joined her screams to the general hue and cry; for an in- 
 discriminate chase of all the ragamuffins in the town, witli 
 barking curs and screeching children, followed the flight 
 of M' Garry and the pursuing Squire. 
 
 " What the divil is all this about?" said Tom Durfy, 
 laughing. " By the powers! I suppose there's something 
 in the weather to produce all this fun — though it's early 
 in the year to begin thrashing, for the harvest isn't in yet. 
 But, however, let us manage our Httle affair, now that 
 we're left in peace and quietness, for the blackguards are 
 all over the bridge 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," said the Squire. " Dick is at my house, I can
 
 38 HAXDT ANDY. 
 
 arrange time and place with you this minute, and he will 
 be on the ground Avith me." 
 
 " Very well/" said Tom; " where is it to be?"' 
 
 " Suppose we say the cross-roads, half-way between thia 
 and Merryvale? There's very pretty ground there, and we 
 shall be able to get our pistols and all that ready in the 
 meantime between this and four o'clock — and it will be 
 pleasanter to have it all over before dinner/' 
 
 " Certainly, Squire," said Tom Durfy; "we'll be there 
 at four. Till then, good-morning. Squire;" and he and 
 his man walked olf. 
 
 The widow, in the meantime, had been left to the care 
 of the apothecary's boy, whose tender mercies were now, 
 for the first time in his life, demanded toward a fainting 
 lady; for the poor raw country lad, having to do with a 
 sturdy peasantry in every-day matters, had never before 
 seen the capers cut by a lady who thinks it proper, and 
 delicate, and becoming, to display her sensibility in a swoon; 
 and truly her sobs, and small screeches, and little stamp- 
 ings and kickings, amazed young gallipot. Smelling-salts 
 were applied ; — they were rather weak, so the widow in- 
 haled the pleasing odor with a sigh, but did not recover. 
 Sal volatile was next put into requisition — this was some- 
 thing stronger, and made her wriggle on her chair, and 
 throw her head about with sundry " Ohs!" and " Ah-:!" 
 The boy, beginning to be alarmed at the extent of the wid- 
 ow's syncope, bethought himself of asafetida; anC_ taking 
 down a goodly bottle of that sweet-smelling stimulant, gave 
 the widow the benefit of the whole jar under her nose. 
 Scarcely had the stopper been withdrawn, when she gave a 
 louder screech than she had yet executed, and exclaiming 
 '*' Faugh!" with an expression of the most concentrated 
 disgust, opened her eyes fiercely upon the offender, and 
 shut up her nose between her forefinger and thumb against 
 the offense, and snuffled forth at the astonished boy, "' Get 
 out o' that, you dirty cur! Can't you let a lady faint in 
 peace and quietness? Gracious Heavens! would you 
 smother me, you nasty brute? Oh, Tom, where are you?'* 
 and she took to sobbing forth " Tom! Tom!" and put her 
 handkerchief to her eyes, to hide the tears that were ?ini 
 there, while from behind the corner of the cambric she 
 kept a snarp eye on the street, and observed Avhat was go- 
 dig on. She went on acting her part very becomingly.
 
 HAXDY ANDY. 39 
 
 until the moment Tom Duiiy walked off -with Murphy; 
 but then she could feign no longer, and jumping up from 
 her seat, with an exclamation of " The brute I" she ran to 
 the door, and looked down the street after them. " The 
 savage!" sobbed the widow; *' the hard-hearted monster! 
 to abandon me here to die — oh! to use me so — to lea\'e me 
 like a — like a'" — (the widow was fond of similes) — " like 
 an old shoe — liKe a dirty glove — like a — like I don't know 
 what!" (the usual fate of similes). " Mister Durfy, I'll 
 punish you for this — I will!'" said the widow, with an en- 
 ergetic emphasis on the last word; and she marched out of 
 the shop, boiling over with indignation, through which, 
 nevertheless, a little bubble of love now and then rose to 
 the surface: and by the time she reached her own door, 
 love predoroaiated, and she sighed as she laid her hand on 
 the knocker: ''After all, if the dear fellow should be 
 killed, what would become of me! — oh! — and that wretch, 
 Dick Dawson, too — ftco of them. The worst of these merry 
 devils is they are always fighting." 
 
 The Squire had ridden immediately homeward, and told 
 Dick Dawson the piece of work that was before them. 
 
 " And so he will have a shot at you, instead of an ac- 
 tion?" said Dick. " Well, there'.s pluck iu that: I wish he 
 was more of a gentleman, for your sake. It's dirty work, 
 shootuig attorneys." 
 
 " He's enough of a gentleman, Dick, to make it impos- 
 sible for me to refuse 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 has experience of the grass before break- 
 fast." 
 
 " You must try and find out from some one on the 
 ground; because, if the poor divil isn't a good shot, I 
 wouldn't like to kill him, and I'll let him off easy — I'll give 
 it to him in the pistol-arm, or so. " 
 
 " Very well, Xed. Where are the flutes? I must look 
 over them." 
 
 "Here," said the Squire, producing a very handsome 
 mahogany case of Eigby's best. Dick opened the case with 
 the utmost care, and took up one of the pistols tenderly, 
 handling it as delicately as if it were a young child or a 
 lady's hand. He clicked the lock back and forward a few
 
 40 HAXDY ANDY. 
 
 times; and, liis ear not being satisfied at the music it pro- 
 duced, he said he should hke to examine them: " At all 
 events they want a touch of oil." 
 
 *' Well, keep them out of the misthriss^ sight, Dick, for 
 she might be alarmed. '^ 
 
 " Divil a taste," says Dick; *' she's a Dawson, and there 
 never was a Dawson 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 delicate situation just now, w^hen it couldn't be 
 expected of the w^oman to be so stout; so go, like a good 
 fellow, into your own room, and Andy will bring you any- 
 thing you want." 
 
 Five minutes after, Dick was engaged in cleaning the 
 dueling-pistols, and Andy at his elbow, with his mouth 
 wide open, wondering at the interior of the locks which 
 Dick had just taken off. 
 
 *' Oh, my heavens! but that's a quare thing, Misther 
 Dick, sir," said Andy, going to take it up. 
 
 " Keep your fingers off it, you thief, do!" roared Dick, 
 making a rap of the turnscrew at Andy's knuckles. 
 
 " Shure, I'll save you the trouble o' rubbiu' that, Mis- 
 ther Dick, if you let 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; 
 " Tne divil fly away with you!— you never 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 any one what it's for." 
 
 Andy retired, and Dick pursued his polishing of the 
 locks. Why he used such 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 particular source 
 of amusement to him, and on all occasions when he could 
 have Andy in his company he made him his attendant
 
 HANDY ANDY. 41 
 
 When the sweet oil was produced, Dick looked about for a 
 feather; but, not tinding 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 a pen." 
 
 *' And what use would a pin be without ink, now I ax 
 yourself, Misther Dick?" 
 
 "I'd knock your brains out if you had any, you oma- 
 dhaun! Go along, and get me a feather, and make haste. " 
 
 Andy went off, and having obtained a feather, returned 
 to Dick, who began to tip certain portions of the lock rery 
 delicately with oil. 
 
 " What's that for, Misther Dick, sir, if you plaze?" 
 
 " To make it w^ork smooth." 
 
 " And what's that thing you're grazin' now, sir?" 
 
 "That's the tumbler." 
 
 " Lord! a tumbler — what a quare name for it. I 
 thought there was no tumbler 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 on now, 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 feathar- 
 gpring." 
 
 " 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 a thing as a tumbler and a cock in a pistla? 
 And what's that place that opens 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 he screwed on the locks, which he had regu- 
 lated to his mind, and began to examine the various depart- 
 ments of the pistol-case, to see that it was properly provid
 
 43 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 ed. Hs took the instrument to cut some circles of thin 
 leather, and Andy again asked him for the name o' that 
 thing? 
 
 '■ This is called the punch, Andy.'* 
 
 '' So there is the pimch as well as the tumbler, sir.''* 
 
 *' Ay, and very strong pinch it is, you see, Andy;'* and 
 Dick, struck it with his li .tie mahogany mallet, and cut hia 
 patches of leather. 
 
 " And what's that fo , sir? — the leather I mane." 
 
 " That's for putting round the ball." 
 
 " Is it for fear 'twould hurt him too much when you 
 fihot him." 
 
 " You're a queer customer, Andy," said Dick, smiling. 
 
 *' And what weeshee little balls thim is, sir." 
 
 " They are always small for dueling-pistols.** 
 
 " Oh, then thim is jewellin* pisfcles. Why, musha, Mis- 
 ther Dick, is it goin' 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 him safe 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 hope he'll shoot him. " 
 
 '' Why, Andy, Murtough was always very good to you, 
 and now you wish him to 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 an iligant thing to put two balls into the 
 pistla instead o' one, and give the masther a chance over 
 the 'torney?" 
 
 " Oh, you murdherous villain!" 
 
 *' Arrah! why shouldn't the masther have a chance over 
 him? sure he has childre, and 'Torney Murphy has none." 
 
 ' At any rate, Andy, I suppose you'd give the masther 
 ^ all additional for every child he has, and that woul(J 
 
 <<
 
 make eight. So joxi might as well give him a blxmderbufis 
 and slugs at once. " 
 
 Dick loaded the pistol-case, having made all right, and 
 desired Andy to mount a horse, carry it by a back road out 
 of the demesne, and wait at a certain gate he named until 
 he should be joined there by himself and the 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 Tom Durfy were ready to re- 
 ceive them; and a great number of spectators were assem- 
 bled, for tlie noise of the business had gone abroad, and the 
 ground was in consequence crowded. 
 
 Tom Durfy had warned Murtough Murphy, who had no 
 experience as a pistol man, that the Squire was a capital 
 Bhot, and that his only chance was to fire as quickly as he 
 could. " Slap at him, Morty, my boy, the minute you get 
 the word; and if you don^t hit him itself, it will prevent 
 his dwelHng on his aim. " 
 
 Tom Dui-fy and Dick the Devil soon settled the pre- 
 liminaries of the ground and mode of firing, and twelve 
 paces having been marked, both the seconds opened their 
 pistol-cases and prepared to load. Andy was close to Dick 
 all the time, kneeling beside the pistol-case, which lay on 
 the sod; and as Dick turned round to settle some other 
 point on which Tom Durfy questioned him, Andy thought 
 he might snatch the opportunity of giving bis master *' the 
 chance'^ he suggested to his second. "Sure, if Misther 
 Dick wouldn't like to do it, that's no raison I wouldn't," 
 said Andy to himaelf, " and, by the powers! I'll pop in a 
 ball onknoicnst to him. " And, sure enough, Andy con- 
 trived, while the seconds Avere engaged with each other, to 
 put a ball into each pistol before the barrel was loaded with 
 powder, so that when Dick took his pistols to load, a bul- 
 let lay between the powder and the touch-hole. Now, this 
 must have been discovered by Dick, had he been cool; but 
 he and Tom Durfy had wrangled very much about the 
 point they had been discussing, and Dick, at no time the 
 quietest person in the world, was in such a rage that the 
 pistols were loaded by him without heeding Andy's ingen- 
 ious interference, and he handed a harmless weapon to his 
 brother-in-law when he placed him on his ground. 
 
 The word was given. Murtough, following his friend's
 
 44 HANDY ANDir. 
 
 advice, fired instantly — bang lie went, wliile the Squire re 
 turned with a flash in the pan. He turned a look of re- 
 proach upon Dick, who took the pistol silently from him, 
 and handed him the other, having carefully looked to the 
 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 whispei-. " 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 murderous intentions were his salvation. 
 
 " D — n the pistol!" said the Squire, throwing it down in 
 a rage. Dick took 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 the loading. " 
 
 "Me!" said Dick, with a look of mingled rage and 
 astonishment. " /bungle the loading of pistols! /, that 
 have stepped more ground and arranged 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 the touch-hole of the pistol with a pricker, 
 which he had just taken from the case which Andy was 
 holding before him. 
 
 "Why, my dear Dick," said Durfy, " as Murphy has 
 had two shots, and the Squire has not had the return of 
 either, he declares he will not fire at him again; and, 
 under these circumstances, I must take my man off the 
 ground, " 
 
 " Very well," said Dick, still poking the touch-hole, and 
 examining tlie point of the pricker as he withdrew it. 
 
 " And now Murphy wants to know, since the affair 
 is all over and his honor satisfied, what was your brother- 
 in-law's motive in assaulting him this morning, for he kim- 
 self can not conceive a cause for it." 
 
 "Oh, heaisi/, Tom." 
 
 " 'Pon my soul it's true!'* 
 Why, he sent him a blister— a regular apothecaiy's 
 
 a
 
 HAXDT AXDY. 45 
 
 blister — instead of some law process, by way of a joke, and 
 Ned wouldn't stand if 
 
 Durfy held a moment's conversation with Murphy, who 
 now advanced to the Squire, and begged to assure him 
 there must be some mistake in the business, for that he 
 had never committed the impertinence of which he was 
 accused. 
 
 " All I know is,^' said the Squire, " that I got a blister, 
 which my messenger said you gave him. ■" 
 
 " By virtue of my oath. Squire, I never did it! I gave 
 Andy an iuclosure of the law process." 
 
 " Then it's some mistake that vagabond has made," 
 said the Squire. " Come here, you sir!" he shouted to 
 Andy. Now Andy at this moment stood trembling under 
 the angry eye of Dick the Devil, who, having detected a 
 bit of lead on the point of the pricker, guessed in a mo- 
 ment Andy had been at work, and the unfortunate rascal, 
 from the furious look of Dick, had a misgiving that he had 
 made some blunder. " Why don't you come here when I 
 call you?" said the Squire. Andj^ laid down the pistol- 
 case, and sneaked up to the Squire. *' What did you do 
 with the letter Mr. Murphy gave you for me yesterday?''' 
 
 '* I brought it to your honor. " 
 
 '* No, you didn't," said Murphy. " You've made some 
 mistake. " 
 
 " Divil a mistake I made," answered Andy, very stoutly. 
 " I wint home the minit 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 by the way for some physic for the childre." 
 
 "That's it!" said Murtough ; " be changed my inclosure 
 for a blister there; and if M' Garry has only had the luck 
 to send the bit o' parchment to 0' Grady, it will be the best 
 joke I've heard this month of Sundays. " 
 
 "He did! he did!" shouted Tom Durfy; "for don't 
 vou remember how O'Grady was after M' Garry this morn- 
 ing ?''" 
 
 " 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 him what he did now, though. What do you
 
 46 HAXDY ANDY. 
 
 think?" said he, holding out the pistols, and growing 
 crimson with rage, " may I never fire another shot, if he 
 hasn't crammed a brace of bullets down the pistols before 1 
 loaded them; so no wonder you burned prime, Ned/' 
 
 There was a universal laugh at Dick's expense, whose 
 pride in being considered the most accomph'shed regulator 
 of the duello was well known. 
 
 " Oh, Dick, Dick! you're a pretty second!" was shouted 
 by all. 
 
 Dick, stung by the laughter, and feeling keenly the 
 ridiculous position in which he was placed, made a rush at 
 Andy, who, seeing the storm brewing, gradually sneaked 
 away from the group, and when he perceived the sudden 
 movement of Dick the Devil, took to his heels, with Dick 
 after him. 
 
 "Hurrah!" cried Murphy, "a race — a race! I'll bet 
 on Andy — five pounds on 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 you double the bet?" 
 
 " Done!" said Murphy. 
 
 The infection of betting caught the by-standers, and 
 various gages were thrown and taken up upon the speed of 
 the runners, who were getting rapidly into the distance, 
 flying over hedge and ditch with surprising velocity, and, 
 from the level nature of the ground, an extensive view 
 could not be obtained, therefore Tom Durfy, the steeple- 
 ch^er, cried, " Mount, mount! or we'll lose the fun — mto 
 our saddles, and after them." 
 
 Those who had steeds took the hint, and a numerous 
 field of horsemen joined in the pursuit of Handy Andy and 
 Dick the Devil, who still maintained great speed. The 
 horsemen made for a neighboring hill, whence they could 
 command a wider view; and the betting went on briskly, 
 varying according to the vicissitudes of the race. 
 Two to one on Dick — he's closing." 
 
 ** Done! Andy will wmd him yet." 
 
 "Well done — there's a leap! Hurrah! Dick's down! 
 Well done, Dick!— up again and going." 
 
 " Mind the next quickset hedge — that's a rasper, it's a 
 wide gripe, and the hedge is as thick as a wall — Andy'il
 
 8tick in it — mind him — well leaped, by the powers! Ha! 
 he^s sticking in the hedge — Dick'll catch him now. No, 
 by jingo! he^s pushed his way through — there's he's going 
 on again 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. Hurrah! he has lost the skirt of 
 his coat! Andy is ganiing on him — two to one on Andy." 
 
 " Down he goes!" was shouted as Andy's foot slipped 
 in making a dash at another ditch, ijito which he went 
 head over heels, and Dick followed fast, and disajipeared 
 after him. 
 
 "Kide! ride!" shouted Tom Durfy; and the horsemen 
 put their spurs into the 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, pummeling away most unmercifully, but not able to 
 kill him altogether, for want of breath. 
 
 The horsemen, in a universal screech of laughter, dis- 
 mounted, and disengaged the unfortunate Andy from the 
 fangs of Dick the Devil, who was dragged out uf the ditch 
 much more like a scavenger than a gentleman. 
 
 The moment Andy got loose, away he ran again, with a 
 ratthng " Tally-ho!" after him, and he never cried stop 
 till he earthed himself under his mother's bed in the parent 
 cabin. 
 
 Murtough Murphy characteristically remarked, that the 
 affair of the day had taken a very whimsical turn: *' Here 
 are you and I, Squire, who went out to shoot each other, 
 safe and well, while one of the seconds has come off rather 
 the worse for the wear; and a poor devil, who had nothing 
 to say to the matter in hand, good, bad, or indifferent, is 
 nearly killed." 
 
 The Squire and Murtough then shook hands, and parted 
 friends half an hour after they had met as foes; and even 
 Dick contrived to forget his annoyance in an extra stoup of 
 claret that day after dinner— filling more than one bumper 
 in drinking confusion to Handy Andy, which seemed a 
 rather unnecessary malediction.
 
 48 HAifDY AifDY. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 After the friendly parting of the foes {pro tempore), 
 there was a general scatter of the party who had come to 
 see the duel: and how strange is the fact, that as much as 
 human nature is prone to shudder at death under the 
 gentlest circumstances, yet men will congregate to be its 
 witnesses when violence aggravates the calamity! A pub- 
 lic execution or a duel is a focus where burning curiosity 
 concentrates; in the latter case, Ireland bears the palm for 
 a crowd; in the former, the annals of the Old Bailey can 
 amply testify. Ireland has its own interest, too, in a place 
 of execution, but not in the same degree as England. They 
 have been too used to hanging in Ireland to make it 
 piquant: *' toujours perdrix" is a saying which applies m 
 this as in many other cases. The gallows, in its palmy 
 days, was shoni of its terrors: it became rather a pastime. 
 For the victim it was a pastime wi4h a vengeance; for 
 through it all time was past with him. For the rabble who 
 beheld his agony, the frequency of the sight had blunted 
 the edge of horror, and only sharpened that of unnatural 
 excitement. The great school, where law should be the 
 respected master, failed to inspire its intended awe; the 
 legislative lesson became a mockery; and death, instead of 
 frowning with terror, grinned in a fool's cap from the 
 scaffold. 
 
 This may be doubted now, when a milder spirit presides 
 in the councils of the nation and on the bench; but those 
 ■who remember Ireland not very long ago, can bear witness 
 how lightly life was valued, or death i-egarded. Illustra- 
 ,tive of this, one may refer to the story of the two basket- 
 women in Dublin, who held gentle converse on the subject 
 of an approaching execution. 
 
 *' Won't you go see de man die to-morrow, Judy?" 
 
 *' Oh, no, darlin'," said Judy. (By the bye, Judy pro- 
 nounced the n through her nose, and said " do."'\ 
 
 *' Ah do, jewel," said her friend. 
 
 Judy again responded, *' Do." 
 
 ** And why won't you go, deai'?'' inquired her friend 
 again.
 
 HANDY ANDT. 49 
 
 " I've to wasli dc child/' said Judy. 
 
 " Sure, didn't you wash it last week?" said her friend, 
 in an expostulatory tone. 
 
 '• Oh, well, I won't go/' said Judy. 
 
 " Troth, Judy, you're ruinin' your health/^ said this 
 soft-hearted acquaintance; '^dere's a man to die to-mor- 
 row, and you won't come — augh! you (/ever take ^o divar- 
 shin!" 
 
 And wherefore is it thus? Why should tears bedew the 
 couch of him who dies in the bosom of his family, surround- 
 ed by those who love him, whose pillow is smoothed by the 
 hand of filial piety, whose past is without reproach, and 
 whose future is bright with hope? and why should dry eyes 
 behold the duelist or the culprit, in whom folly or guilt 
 may be the cause of a death on which the seal of censure or 
 infamy may be set, and whose futurity we must tremble to 
 consider? With more reason might we weep for the fate 
 of either of the latter than the former, and yet we do not. 
 And why is it so? If I may venture an opinion, it is that 
 nature is violated: a natural death demands and receives 
 the natural tribute of tears; but a death of violence falls 
 with a stunning force upon the nerves, and the fountain of 
 pity stagnates and will not flow. 
 
 Though there was a general scattering of the persons who 
 came to see the duel, still a good many rode homeward with 
 Murphy, who, with his second, Tom Durfy, beside him, 
 headed' the party, as they rode gayly toward the town, and 
 laughed over the adventure of Andy and Dick. 
 
 " No one can tell how anything is to finish," said Tom 
 Durf}'; " here we came 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, who seemed particularly hapjjy at not being- 
 tilled. 
 
 " You lost no time in firing, Murtough," said one of his 
 friends. 
 
 "And small blame to me, Billy," answered Murphy; 
 *' Egan is a capital shot, and how did I know but he might 
 take it into his head to shoot me? for he's very hot when 
 roused, though as good-natured a fellow in the main as ever 
 broke bread; and yet I don't think, after all, he'd have 
 liked to do me much mischief either; but, you sec, he 
 couldn't stand the joke he thought I played him."
 
 50 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " Will you tell us what it was?" cried another of tho 
 party, pressing forward, " for we can't make it out exactly, 
 though we've heard something of it — wasn't it leeches you 
 gent to him, telling him he was a blood-sucking villain?" 
 
 A roar of laughter from Murtough followed this question, 
 " Lord, how a story 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 
 noyeflu?" 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 of the story. " If you will listen to me, I'll 
 give you the genuine version," said Murtough, " which is 
 better, I promise you, than any which invention could sup- 
 ply. The fact is. Squire Egan is enraged against 0' Grady, 
 and applied to me to harass him in the parchment line, 
 swearing he would blister him ; and this phrase of blister- 
 ing occurred so often, that when I sent him over a bit o' 
 parchment, wliich he engaged to have served on my bold 
 'Grady, I wrote to him, ' Dear Squire, I send you the 
 blister;' and that most ingenious of all blunderers. Handy 
 Andy, being the bearer, and calling at M'Garry's shop on 
 his way home, picked up from the counter a real blister, 
 which was folded up in an inclosure, something like the 
 process, and left the law-stinger behind him." 
 
 " That's great!" cried Doyle. 
 
 *' Oh, but you have not heard the best of it yet," added 
 Murphy. '* I am certain the bit of parchment was sent to 
 O'Grady, for he was hunting M'Garry this morning 
 through the town, with a cudgel of portentous dimensions 
 — put that and that together. ' ' 
 
 " No mistake!" cried Doyle; *' and divil pity O'Grady, 
 for he's a blustering, swaggering, overbearing, ill-tem- 
 pered — " 
 
 " Hillo, hillo. Bill!" interrupted Murphy, " you are too 
 hard on the adjectives; besides, you'll spoil your appetite 
 if you ruffle your temper, and that would fret me, for I in- 
 tend you to dine with me to-day." 
 
 ' ** Faith an' I'll do that same, Murtough, my boy, and 
 glad to be asked, as the old maid said. " 
 *'J'll tell you what it is," said Murphy; " boirs, joi|
 
 HANDY A^DT. SJ 
 
 ^ust all dine with me to-day, and drink long life to me, 
 since I'm not killed.'" 
 
 " There are seventeen of us/" said Durfy; '* the little 
 parlor won't hold us ail.'" 
 
 " But isn't there a big room at the inn, Tom?'" returned 
 Murphy, " and not better drink in Ireland than Mrs. Fay"s. 
 What do you say, lads — one and all — -will you dine with 
 aie?"" 
 
 *' Will a duck swim?" chuckled out Jack Horan, an 
 oily veteran, who seldom opened his mouth but to put some- 
 thing into it, and spared his words as if they were of value; 
 and to make them appear so, he spoke in apothegms. 
 
 " What say you, James Reddy.^'" said Murtough. 
 
 *' Eeady, sure enough, and willing too!'" answered 
 James, who was a small wit, and made the aforesaid play 
 upon his name at least three hundred and sixty-five tim§s 
 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! 
 Whool I'm in great heart to-day. But who is this powdher- 
 ing up the road? By the great powers! 'tis the doctor, I 
 think; 'tis — I know his bandy hat over the cloud of dust."" 
 
 The individual thus designated as Me doctor now emerged 
 from the obscurity in which he had been enveloped, and 
 was received with a loud shout by the whole cavalcade as 
 he approached them. Both parties drew rein, and the 
 doctor, lifting from his head the aforesaid bandy hat, which 
 was slouched over one eye, with a sinister droop, made a 
 low obeisance to Murphy, and said, with a mock solemnity, 
 " You servant, sir — and so you're not killed?" 
 
 " No," said Murphy; " and you've lost a job, which I 
 see you came to look for — but you're not to have the carv- 
 ing of me yet."" 
 
 " Considering it"s so near Michaelmas, I think you"v« 
 had a great escape, signer,"' reairned the doctor. 
 
 "Sure enough," said Murphy, laughmg; "but you're 
 late this time: so you must turn back, and content your- 
 self with carving something mo/e innocent than an attorney 
 to-day — though at an attorney's cost. You must dine 
 with me. '" 
 
 *' Willingly, siguor/' said the doctor; "but pray don't
 
 52 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 make use of the word ' cost.' I hate to hear it out of an 
 attorney's mouth — or bill, 1 should say.'^ 
 
 A laugh followed the doctor's pleasantry, but no smile 
 appeared upon/u'* countenance; for though uttering quaint 
 and often very good, but oftener very bitter, things, he 
 never moved a muscle of his face, while others were shak- 
 ing their sides at his sallies. He was, in more ways than 
 one, a remarkable man. A massive head, large and rather 
 protruding eyes, lank hair, slouching ears, a short neck, 
 and broad shoulders, rather mclined to stooping, a long 
 body, and short legs, slightly bowed, constituted his out- 
 ward man ; and « lemon-colored complexion, which a resi- 
 dence of some years in the East Indies had produced, did 
 not tend to increase his beauty. His mind displayed a 
 superior intelligence, original views, contempt of received 
 opinions, with a power of satire and ridicule, which ren- 
 dered him a j^leasing friend or a dangerous enemy, as the 
 case might be; though, to say the truth, friend and foe 
 were treated with nearly equal severity, if a joke or a sar- 
 casm tempted the assault. His own profession hated him, 
 for he unsparingly ridiculed all stale practice, which his 
 conviction led him to believe was ineflficient, and he daring- 
 ly introduced fresh, to the no small indignation of the more 
 cut and dry portion of tlie faculty, for whose hate he re- 
 turned contempt, of which he made no secret. From an 
 extreme coarseness of manner, even those who believed in 
 his skill were afraid to trust to his humor; and the dislike 
 of his brother-practitioners to meet him superadded to this, 
 damaged his interest considerably, and jjrevented his being 
 called in until extreme danger frightened patients, or their 
 friends, into sending for Dr. Growling. His carelessness 
 in dress, too, inspired disgust in the fair portion of the 
 creation; and "snuffy"' and "dirty," " savage " and 
 " brute," were among the sweet words they applied to him. 
 
 Nevertheless, those who loved a joke more than they 
 feared a hit, would run the risk of an occasional thrust of 
 the doctor^s stiletto, for the sake of enjoying the mangling 
 he gave other people; and such rollicking fellows as Mur- 
 phy and Durfy, and Dawson, and Squire Egan petted this 
 social hedge-hog. 
 
 The doctor now turned his horse's head, and joined the 
 cavalcade to the town. " I have blown my Eozinante,," 
 said he; "I was in such a hurry to see the fun.''
 
 HAXDT AXDT. 53 
 
 ** Yes/' said Murphy, " he smokes." 
 
 " And his master takes sniiff/' said the doctor, suiting 
 the action to the word. "I suppose, signor, you were 
 tliinking a little while ago that the Squire might serve an 
 (jjectment 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 a court of law and the court of honor; for in the 
 former, the man is plaintiil before he gets his damages, 
 while in the latter, it is after he gets his damages that he 
 complains. ' ' 
 
 "I'm glad my term is not ended, however,'' said Mur- 
 
 " If it had been,-" said the doctor, ** I think you'd have 
 had a long vacation in limbo." 
 
 "And suppose I had been hit,'-* said Murphy, '"'you 
 would have been late on the 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 of humanity, Miss Jinkins. Her niece was 
 dangerously ill, and she had that licensed slaughterer from 
 Kilianmaul trying to tinker her ujj, till the poor girl was 
 past all hope, and then she sends for me. She swore, some 
 time ago, I should never darken her doors; but when she 
 began to apprehend that death was rather a darker gentle- 
 man than I, she tolerated 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 pleasing an expression? — 
 and wringing her hands she cried, ' Oh, doctor, 1 '11 be 
 bound to you forever!' — I hope not, thought I to myself, 
 ' Save my Jemima, 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 had been 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 verily 
 beUeve they think I can raise people out of their graves; 
 and they call me in to repair tlie damages disease and the 
 doctors have been making; and while the gentlemen in 
 black silk stockings, with gold-headed canes, have been 
 fobbing fees for three weeks, j^erhaps, they call in poor 
 Jack Growling, who scorns Jack-a-dandyism, and he §ets
 
 54 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 a solitary guinea for lAending the bungling that cost some- 
 thing to the tune of twenty or thirty perliaps. And when 
 I have plucked them from the jaws of death— regularly 
 cheated the sexton out of them — the best word they have 
 for me is to call me a pig, or abuse my boots, or wonder 
 that the doctor is not more particular about his linen — the 
 fools! But to return to my gentle crocodile. I was shown 
 upstairs to tlie sick-room, and there, sir, I saw the unfort- 
 unate girl, speechless, at the last gasp absolutely. The 
 KillanmiuU dandy had left her to die— absolutely given 
 her up; and thim, hideed, I'm sent for! Well, I was in a 
 rage, and was rushing out of the house, when the crocodile 
 waylaid me in the hall. ' Oh, doctor, won't you do some- 
 thing for my Jemima?' ' I can't, ma'am,' says I; ' but 
 Mr. Fogarty can.' 'Mr. Fogarty!' says she. 'Yes, 
 ma'am,' says I. ' You have mistaken my profession. Miss 
 Jinkins — I'm a doctor, ma'am; but I suppose you tooh me 
 for an %inderiaker !' " 
 
 " Well, you hit her hard, doctor," said Murphy. 
 
 '' Sir, )ou 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," an- 
 swered Murphy; '' and, by the bye. Jack, I leave the order- 
 ino- of the dinner to you, for no man understands better 
 holy to do that same; besides, I want to leave my horse in 
 my own stable, and I'll be up at the inn, after you, m a 
 brace of shakes. ' ' 
 
 The troop now approached the town. Those who lived 
 there rode to their own stables, and returned to the party 
 at Mrs. Fay's: while they who resided at a distance dis- 
 mounted at the door of the inn, which soon became a scene 
 of bustle in all its departments from this large influx of 
 guests; and the preparation for the dinner, exceeding in 
 scale what Mrs. Fay was generally called upon to provide, 
 except when the assizes, or races, or other such cause of 
 commotion, demanded all the resources of her establish- 
 ment, and more, if she had them. So the Dinnys, and 
 the Tims, and the Mickey s were rubbing down horses, 
 cleaning knives, or drawing forth extra tables from their 
 dusty repose; and '.he Biddys, and Judys, and Nellys were 
 washing up plates, scouring pans, and brightening up extra 
 candlesticks, or d .iug deeds of doom in the poultry-yardj
 
 HANDY ANDY. 55 
 
 where an audible commotion gave token of the premature 
 deaths of sundry supernumerary chickens. 
 
 Murphy soon joined his guests, grinning from ear to ear, 
 and rubbing his hands as he entered. 
 
 " Great news, boys,'' said he; " who do you think was 
 at my house, when I got home, but M' Garry, with hia 
 hcKd bandaged up, and his whole body, as he declares, 
 bearing black and blue testimony to the merciless attack of 
 the b*.ld O'Grady, against whom he swears he'll bring an 
 action for assault and battery. Now, boys, I thought it 
 would be great fun to have him here to dinner — it's as 
 good as a play to hear him describe the thrashing — so I 
 asked him to come. He said he Avas not in a fit state to 
 dine out; but I egged him on by sa^'ing that a sight of him 
 in his present plight would excite sympathy for him, and 
 stir up public feehng against O'Grady, and that all would 
 tell in the action, as most likely some of the present com- 
 pany might be on the jury, and Avould be the better abl* 
 to judge how far he was entitled to damages, from witness- 
 ing the severity of the injury he had received. So he's 
 coming; and mind, you must all be deeply affected at his 
 sufferings, and impressed 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 on me. I went into his shop one day, and 
 asked for some oj^ium wine, and he could not resist calling 
 it vinum ojyii 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. He brags that he never was what he 
 calls ' inebriated ' in his life; and it will be great fun to 
 send him home on a door, with a note to his wife, who is 
 proud of his propriet}'." 
 
 As they spoke, M' Garry entered, his head freshly bound 
 up, to look as genteel as possible amongst the gentlemen 
 with whom he was to have the honor of dining. His wife 
 nad suggested a pink ribbon, but M'Garry, while acknowl- 
 edged his \\nfe's superior taste, said black would look more 
 professional. The odd fellows to whom he had now com- 
 mitted himself, crowded round him, and, in the most ex-
 
 56 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 aggeratecl phrases, implied the high sense they entertained 
 of his wrongs and 'Grady's aggression. 
 
 " Unprovoked attack!" cried one. 
 
 " Savage rufRan!" ejaculated another. 
 
 " What atrocity!" said a third. 
 
 " What dignified composure!'' added a fourth, in an au- 
 dible whisper, meant for M' Garry's ear. 
 
 " Gentlemen!" said the apothecary, flurried at the ex- 
 treme attention of which he became the object; " I beg to 
 assure you I am deeply — that is — 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 in nerve — whether from loss of blood or — " 
 
 " I have lost a quantity of blood, doctor," said M 'Gar- 
 ry, " much vascular, to say nothing of extravasated. " 
 
 " 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 
 cauBe akeady stated, I see Mr. M' Garry is not prepared to 
 answer the outpouring of feeling with which you have 
 greeted him, and if I might be 23ermitted — " 
 
 Every one shouted, "' Certainly — certainly!" 
 
 " Then as I am permitted, I tvill venture to respond /or 
 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 smothered laughter fol- 
 lowed this beginning; upon which the doctor, with a mock 
 gravity, proceeded — 
 
 " Gentlemen, this interruption I consider to be an in- 
 fringement on the liberty of the subject. I recommence, 
 therefore, in the words of my honorable and wounded 
 friend, and our honorable 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 doctor continued — 
 
 " Gentlemen — unaccustomed to public thrashing, you 
 can conceive what my feelings are at the present moment, 
 in mind and body. [Bravo!] You behold an outrage 
 [nnu-h co)ifu,'<io7i]l Shall an exaggerated savagery like 
 this escape punishment, and ' the calm, sequestered vale ' 
 (as the poet calls it) of private life be ravaged with imp a-
 
 HANDY ANDY. 57 
 
 nity? [Bravo, iravo !] Are the learned professions to be 
 trampled under foot by barbarian ignorance and brutality? 
 No; I read in the indignant looks of my auditory their 
 high-souled answers. Gentlemen, your sympathy is bettei- 
 than diachylon to my woimds, and this is the proudest day 
 of my hfe. " 
 
 Thunders of applause followed the doctor's address; and 
 every one shook M' Garry's hand, till his bruised bones 
 ached again. Questions poured upon him from all sides as 
 to the nature and quantity of his drubbing, to all of which 
 M'Garry innocently answered in tei-ms of exaggeration, 
 spiced with scientitic jjhrases. Muscles, tendons, bones, 
 and sinews, were partiuularized with the precision of an 
 anatomical demonstration; he swore he was pulverized, 
 and paralyzed, and all the other lies he could thmk of. 
 
 " A large stick you say?'' said Murphy. 
 
 " Sir! I never saw such a stick — 'twas like a weaver's 
 beam!" 
 
 "I'll make a note of that," said Murphy. " A weav' 
 er's beam — 'twill tell well with a jury." 
 
 " And beat you all over?" said Durfy. 
 
 " From shoulder to flank, sir, I am one mass of welts 
 and weals; the abrasures are extensive, the bruises terrific, 
 particularly in the lumbar region. " 
 
 " Where'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 have known some people whose liimier region 
 lay in the head. " 
 
 " You laugh, gentlemen," said M'Garry, with a mourn- 
 ful smile; " but you knoiv the doctor — he will be jocular." 
 He then continued to describe the various other regions of 
 his injuries, amidst the well-acted pity and indignation of 
 the queer fellows who drew him out, until they were satu- 
 rated, 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 
 them^lves before dinner with a badger-fight. 
 
 "Isn't one fight a day enough for you, signer?" said 
 the doctor. 
 
 " It is not every day we get a badger, you know," said 
 Murphy; "' and I heard just now from Tim the waiter that
 
 58 HAKDY ANDY. 
 
 there is a horse-dealer lately arrived at the stables here, 
 who has a famous one with him, and I know Reilly the 
 butcher has two or three capital dogs, and there's a wicked 
 mastiff below stairs, and Fll send for my ' buffer/ and 
 we'll have some spanking sport." 
 
 He led his guests then to the inn-yard, and the horse- 
 dealer, for a consideration, allowed his badger to wage 
 battle; the noise of the affair spread through the town, 
 while they were making their arrangements, and sending 
 right and left for dogs for the contest; and a pretty con- 
 siderable crowd soon assembled at the place of action, 
 where the houi before dinner was spent in the intellectual 
 amusement of a badgei*-fight. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The fierce yells of the badger-fight ringing far and wide 
 soon attracted a crowd, which continued to increase every 
 minute by installments of men and boys, who might be seen 
 rumiing across a small field by the road-side, close to the 
 scene of action, which lay at the back of the inn; and 
 heavy-caped and skirted frieze coats streamed behind the 
 full-grown, while the rags of the gossoons* fluttered in the 
 race. Attracted by this evidence of '^ something going 
 on," a horseman, who was approaching the town, urged his 
 horse to speed, and turning his head toward a yawning 
 double ditch that divided the road from the field, he grace- 
 fully rode the noble animal over the spanking leap. 
 
 The rider was Edward O'Connor; and he was worthy of 
 his name — the pure blood of that royal race was in his 
 heart, which never harbored a sentiment that could do it 
 dishonor, and overflowed with feelings wiiicli ennoble hu- 
 man nature, and make us proud of our kind! He wus 
 young and handsome; and as he sat his mettled horse, no 
 lady could deny that Edward O'Connor was the very ty])e 
 of the gallant cavalier. Though attached to every manly 
 sport and exercise, his mind was of a refined order; and a 
 youth passed amidst books and some of the loveliest scenery 
 in Ireland had nurtured the poetic feeling with which hie 
 mind was gifted, and which found its vent in many a love- 
 
 * Boys.
 
 HANDY AXDY. 59 
 
 taught lyric, or touching ballad,, or si^irit-stirring song, 
 whose theme was national glory. To him the by-gone daya 
 of his country's history were dear, made more familiar by 
 many an autiq le relic which hung around his own room ia 
 his father's house. Celt, and sword, and spear-head of 
 rhcBuician bronze, and golden gorget, and silver bodkin, 
 and ancient harj^, and studded crosier, were there; and 
 these time-worn evidences of arts, and arms, and letters 
 flattered the affection with which he looked back on the 
 ancient history of Ireland, and kept alive the ardent love 
 of his country with which he glowed — a love too deep, too 
 pure, to be likely to expire, even without the aid of such 
 poetic sources of excitement. To him the names of Fitz- 
 gerald, and Desmond, and Tyrone, were dear; and there 
 was no romartic legend of the humble outlaws with which 
 he Avas not familiar: and '*' Charley of*the Horses," and 
 " Ned of the Eill," but headed the list of names he loved 
 to recall; and the daring deeds of bold spirits who held 
 the hill-side for liberty, were often given in words 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 familiarize himself with cruelty; and, perhaps, without 
 such a power of witnessing savage deeds, he would be un- 
 equal to the dominion for which he was designed. Men of 
 the highest order of intellect the world has known have 
 loved the chase. How admirably Scott displays this tend- 
 ency of noble minds, in the meeting of Ellen with her 
 father, when Douglas says — 
 
 " The chase I followed far; 
 'Tis mimicry of noble war." 
 
 And the effect of tliis touch of character is heightened by 
 Douglas in a subsequent scene — Douglas, who could enjoy 
 the sport which ends in death, bending over his gentle 
 child, and dropping tears of the tenderest affection — tears 
 which 
 
 " Would not stain an angel's cheek." 
 
 Superadded to this natural tendency, Edward O'Connor 
 had an additional motive. He lived amongst a society of 
 sporting men, less cultivated than ho was, whose self-esteem 
 would have easily ignited the spark of jealousy jf he ha^
 
 Ou HANDY ANDY. 
 
 seemed to scorn the things which made their principal en* 
 joymeut, and formed the chief occupation of their hves; 
 and his good sense and good heart (and there is an intimate 
 connection between them) pointed out to him that, wherever 
 your lot is cast, duty to yourself and others suggests the 
 propriety of adapting your conduct to the circumstances in 
 which you are placed (so long as morality and decency are 
 not violated), and that the manifestation of one's own 
 superiority may render the purchase too dear, by being 
 bought at the terrible price of our neighbors' dislike. He, 
 therefore, did not tell everybody he wrote verses; he kept 
 the gift as secret as he could. If an error, however gross, 
 on any subject, were made in his presence, he never took 
 willing notice of it; or if circumstances obliged him to 
 touch upon it, it Avas alw" ays done with a politeness and tact 
 that afforded the Blunderer the means of retreat. If some 
 gross historical error, for instance, happened to be com- 
 mitted in a conversation with himself (and then only), he 
 would set the mistake right, as a matter of conscience, but 
 he would do so by saying there was a great similiarity 
 between the event spoken of and some other event. "1 
 know what you are thing of," he w^ould say, '^but you 
 make a slight mistake in the dates; the two stories are very 
 similar, and likely to mislead one. " 
 
 But with all this modest reserve, did the least among his 
 companions think him the less clever? No. It was 
 shrewdly suspected he was a poet; it was well known he 
 was highly educated and accomplished; and yet Edward 
 O'Connor was a universal favorite, bore the character of 
 being a '' real fine fellow," and was loved and respected by 
 the most illiterate of the young men of the country; who, 
 in allusion to his extensive lore on the subject of the legend- 
 ary heroes of the romantic history of Ireland, his own 
 Christian name, and his immediate place of residence, 
 which was near a wild mountain pass, christened him 
 *'Xedof theHill." 
 
 His appearance amidst the crowd assembled to witness 
 the rude sport was htiiled with pleasure — varying from the 
 humble but affectionate respect of the peasant, wiio cried 
 " Long life to you, Misther O'Connor," to the hearty burst 
 of equality, which welcomed him as " Ned of the Hill." 
 
 The fortune of the fight favored the badger, Avho proved 
 t)imself a trura]>: a.nd Murphy appreciated his worth so
 
 HANDY AXDT. 61 
 
 highly that, when tlie battle was over, he would not quit 
 the ground until lie became his owner, at a high price to 
 the horse-dealer. His next move was to ifisist onEd^\a^d 
 O^Connor dining with him; and Edward, after many ex- 
 cuses to avoid the party he foresaw would be a drinking 
 bout — of which he had a special horror, notwithstanding 
 all his toleration — yielded to the entreaties of Murphy, and 
 consented to be his guest, just as Tim the waiter ran uj). 
 steaming from every pore, to announce that the dinner was 
 " ready to be sarved.'^ 
 
 "Then sarve it, sir,^^ said Murphy, "and sarve it 
 right." 
 
 Off cantered Tim, steaming and snorting like a locomo- 
 tive engine, and the party followed to the inn, where a long 
 procession of dish- bearers was ascending the stairs to the 
 big room, as Murphy and his friends entered. 
 
 The dinner it is needless to describe. One dinner 
 is the same as another in the most essential points, 
 namely, to satisfy hunger and slake consequent thirst; 
 and whether beef and cabbage, and hea^T wet, are 
 to conquer the dragon of ajjpetite, or your stomach is to 
 sustain the more elaborate attack tired from the batter ie de 
 cuisine of a finished artiste, and moistened with cham- 
 pagne, the difference is only of degree in the fashion of the 
 thing and the tickling uf the palate; hunger is as thorougli- 
 ly satisfied Avith one as with the other; and headaches as 
 well manufactured out of the beautiful, bright, and taper 
 glasses which bear the foam of France to the lip, as from 
 the coarse, flat-bottomed tumblers of an inn that reek witli 
 punch. At the dinner there was the same tender solicitude 
 on the part of the carvers as to " Where would you like it?" 
 and the same carelessness on the part of those whom they 
 questioned, who declared they had no choice, " but if tliiere 
 was a little bit near the shank," etc., or "if there was a 
 liver wing to spare." By the way, some carvers there are 
 who i^ush an aspirant's patience too far. I have seen some 
 who, after giving away both wings, and all the breast, two 
 sidebones, and the short legs, meet the eager look of the 
 fifth man on their left with a smile, and ask him, 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, or boldly attempt to divert his melancholy with a 
 merry-thought. All this, and more, was there at Mur-
 
 6s; HANDY ANDY. 
 
 tough Murphy's dinner, long memorable in the countr} 
 from a frolic that Avound up the evening, which soon began 
 to warm, after the cloth was removed, into the sort of a 
 thing commonly known by the name of a jolliiication. But 
 before the dinner was over, poor M'Garry was nearly 
 pickled; Jack Horan, being determined to make him 
 drunk, arranged a system of attack on M^Garry's sobriety 
 which bade defiance to his prudence to withstand. It was 
 agreed that every one should ask the apothecary to take 
 wine; and he, poor innocent man! when gentlemen whom 
 he had never had the honor to meet at dinner before ad- 
 dressed him with a winning smile, and said, ''Mr. M^Gar- 
 ry, will yoi' do me the honor 9" could not do less than fill 
 his glass every time; .«o that, to use Jack Koran's own 
 phrase, the apothecary was "sewed up*' before he had 
 any suspicion of the fact; and, imused to the indications of 
 approacliing vinous excitement, he supposed it was the de- 
 lightful society made him so liilarious, and he began to 
 launch forth after dinner in a manner quite at variance 
 with the reserve he usually maintained in the presence of 
 his superiors, and talked largely. Now, M'Garry's princi- 
 pal failing was to make himself appear very learned in liis 
 profession; and every new discovery in chemistry, opera- 
 tion in surgery, or scientific experiment he heard of, he was 
 prone to shove in, head and shoulders, in his soberest mo- 
 ments; but now that he was half drunk, he launched forth 
 on the subject of galvanism, having read of some recent 
 wonderful effects produced on the body of a recent murder- 
 er who was hanged and given over to the College of Sur- 
 geons in Dublin. To impress the company still more with 
 a sense of his learning, he addressed Growling on the sub- 
 ject, and the doctor played him off to advantage. 
 
 " Don't you think it very wonderful, doctor?^* inquired 
 M'Garry, speaking somewhat thickly. 
 
 " Very," answered the doctor, dryly. 
 
 " They say, sir, the man — that is, the subject — when un- 
 der the influence of the battery, absolutely twiddled his 
 left foot, and raised his right arm. " 
 
 " And raised it to some purpose, too," said the doctor; 
 ''for he raised a contusion on the Surgeon-General's eye, 
 having hit him over the same. " 
 
 '' Dear me I — I did not hear that." 
 
 '•It is true, however,"' said the doctor; "and that gives
 
 HANDY ANDY. 63 
 
 you an idea of the power of the galvanic influence, for you 
 know the Surgeon-General is a powerful man, and yet he 
 could not hold him down. " 
 
 *' Wonderful I" hiccoughed M^Garry. 
 
 ''But that's nothing to what happened in London," con- 
 tinued 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 from the 
 table, and making a rush on the assembled Faculty of 
 London, cleared the theater in less than no time; dashed 
 into the hall; stabbed the porter who attempted to stop 
 him; made a chevy down the south side of Leicester Square; 
 and as he reached the corner, a Moman, who was carrying 
 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 admira- 
 ble, whipped the cloak from her back, and threw it round 
 him, and scudding through the tortuous alleys which 
 abound in that neighborhood, made his way to the house 
 where the learned Society of Noviomagians hold their con- 
 vivial meetings, and, telling the landlord that he was in- 
 vited there to dinner as a curiosity, he gained admittance, 
 and, it is supposed, took his opportunity for escaj)ing, 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, the original principle of vitality." 
 
 "Should we not rejoice, doctor," cried M'Garry, "at 
 this triumph of science?" 
 
 " 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 compound- 
 ing medicine, must compound with their creditors; they 
 are utterly ruined. Mercury is no longer to be in the as- 
 cendant; all doctors have to do now is to carry a small bat- 
 tery about them, a sort of galvanic pocket-pistol, I may 
 say, and restore the vital principle by its appUcation." 
 
 "You are not serious, doctor?" said M'Garry, becoming 
 very serious, with that wise look so peculiar to drunken 
 
 "Kever more serious in my life, sir." 
 *' That would be dreadful/' said M'Garry.
 
 64 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " Sliochinf], you mean." said the doctor. 
 
 " Leave off your confounded scientifics there," shouted 
 Murphy from the head of the table, " and let us have a 
 song. " 
 
 " I can't sing, indeed, Mister Murphy," said M'Garry, 
 who became more intoxicated every moment; for he con- 
 tinued to drink, having overstepped the 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 of applause " with which heavy hands made 
 it ring again, and " Ned of the Hill!" " Ned of the Hill!" 
 was vociferated with many a hearty cheer about the board 
 that might indeed be called "festive." 
 
 "Well," said O'Connor, " since you call upon me in the 
 name of Ned of the Hill, I'll give you a song under that 
 very title. Here's Ned of the Hill's own shout;" and, in a 
 rich, manly voice, he sung, with the fire of a bard, thesG 
 lines: 
 
 THE SHOUT OF NED OF THE HILL. 
 
 I. 
 
 The hill ! the hill! with its sparkling rill, 
 
 And its dawning air so light and pure, 
 Where the morning's eye scorns the mists 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 I the hill for mel 
 
 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 blcws. 
 Let him fold his sheep, and his harvest reap — 
 
 I look down from my mountain throne; 
 And 1 choose and pick of the flock and the rick„ 
 
 And what is his 1 can make my own.
 
 BANDT ANDY , 63 
 
 Let the valley grow in its wealth below^ 
 
 And the lord keep his high degree: 
 But higiier am 1 in my liberty — 
 
 The hill! the hill for mel 
 
 O'Connor's song was greeted with what the music-pub- 
 lishers are pleased to designate, on their title-pages, '* dis- 
 tinguished applause;" and his ''health and song" were 
 filled to and drunk 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 to get 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 favor us," said Edward, with 
 a courteous inclination of his head toward the gentleman 
 he named, who returned a very low bow, with many prot- 
 estations that he would "do his best/' etc.: "but after 
 Mr. O'Connor, really " — and this was said with a certain 
 self-complacent smile, indicative of his being on very good 
 terms with himself. Now, James Keddy wrote rhymes — 
 bless the mark I — and was tolerably well convinced that, 
 except Tom Moore (if he did except him), there was not 
 a man in the British dominions his equal as a lyric. He 
 sung, too, with a kill-me-quite air, as if no lady could resist 
 his strains; and to "give effect," as he called it, he began 
 every stanza as loud as he could, and finished it in a gentle 
 murmur — tailed it off very tajjer, indeed; in short, it 
 seemed as if a shout had been suddenly smitten with con- 
 sumption, and died in a whisper. And this, his style, he 
 never varied, whatever the nature or expression of the song 
 might be or the sense to be expressed; but as he very often 
 sung his own, there were seldom any to consider. This 
 rubbish he had set to music by the coimtry music-master, 
 who believed himself a better composer than Sir John 
 Stevenson, to whom the prejudices of the world gave the 
 palm ; and he eagerly caught at the opportunity which the 
 verses and vanity of Reddy afforded him, of stringing his 
 crotchets and quavers on the same hank with the abortive 
 fruits of Keddy's muse, and the wretched j)roductions hung 
 worthily together. 
 
 lieddy, with the proper quantity of " hems and haws,"
 
 6G ilANDY AKDY. 
 
 and rubbing down his upper lip and cbin with his fore- 
 finger and thumb, cleared his throat, tossed his nose into 
 the air, and said he was going to give them " a little classic 
 thing/' 
 
 " Just look at the puppy!" snarled out old Growling to 
 his neighbor; •' he's going to measure us out some yards 
 of his own fustian, I'm sure — he looks so pleased." 
 
 Keddy gave his last " ahem!" and sung what he called 
 
 THE LAMENT OF AEIADNE. 
 
 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 undertone. 
 
 With sob? and sighs 
 And tearful eyes, 
 Like fountain fair of Helicon ! 
 
 ''Oh, thunder and lightning!" growled the doctor, who 
 pulled a letter out 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, to enable it to make a mark. 
 
 For ah, her lover false was gone I 
 The fickle brave. 
 And fickle wave, 
 
 ^ And piokled cabbage/' said the doctor. 
 
 Combined to cheat the tickle fair. 
 
 O fickle! fickle! fickle I 
 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, Ariadne! — adne! — adne! 
 
 "Beautiful!" said the doctor, with an approving nod at 
 Reddy, who continued his song, while the doctor continued 
 Co write. 
 
 The sea-nymphs round the sea-girt shore 
 
 Mocked the maiden's sighs; 
 And the ocean's savage roar 
 
 Replies — 
 Replies — reilios — replies, replies, replies. 
 {Ajter the mi'tiner of " Tell me where is fancy bred.")
 
 HANDY AXDT. 67 
 
 "Yerj original! " said the doctor. 
 
 With willow wand 
 
 Upon the strand 
 She wrote, with trembling heart and hand, 
 
 " Tlie brave should ne'er 
 
 Desert the fair." 
 But the wave the moral washed away. 
 
 Ah. well-a-day ! well-a-day 1 
 
 A-day ! — a-day I — a-day 1 
 
 Beddy smiled and bowed, and thunders of applause fol- 
 lowed, the doctor shouted '' Splendid!" several times, and 
 continued to write and take snuif voraciously, by which 
 those who knew him could comprehend he was bent on 
 mfcchief, 
 
 " What a beautiful thing that is!" said oue. 
 
 "Whose is it?" said another. 
 
 *'A little thing of my own," answered Eeddy, with k 
 smile. 
 
 " I thought so," said Murphy. " By Jove, James, you 
 are a genius!" 
 
 ** Nonsense!" smiled the poet: ''just a little classic trifle 
 — I think fhevi little classic allusions is pleasing in gen- 
 eral — Tommy Moore is very hapjjy in liis classic allusions, 
 you may remark — not that I, of course, mean to institute 
 a comparison between so humble an individual as myself 
 and Tommy Moore, Avho has so well been called ' the poet 
 of all circles, and the idol of his own;' and if you will per- 
 mit me, in a kindred spirit — I hojDC 1 77u/y say the kindred 
 spirit of a song — in that kindred sj^irit I propose his health 
 — the health of Tommy Moore!" 
 
 " Don't say Tommy !" said the doctor, in an irascible 
 tone; "call the man Tom, sir; — with all my heart, Toii 
 Moore!" 
 
 The table took the word from Jack Growling, and " Tom 
 Moore," with all the honors of "lap and hurra!" rang 
 round the walls of the village inn — and where is the village 
 in Ireland tliat health has not been hailed with the fiery 
 enthusiasm of the land whose lays he hath "wedded to 
 immortal verse," — the land which is proud of his birth, 
 and holds his name in honor!'' 
 
 There is a magic in a great name; and in this instance 
 ohsit of Tom Moore turned the current from where it 
 was setting, and instead of quizzing the nonsense of thd
 
 08 HA.NDY AVDY. 
 
 fool who hsLix excited their miilh, every one launrhed forth 
 in praise of their native bard, and eoupiett; from his favor- 
 ite songs rang from lip to lip. 
 
 '^^ Come, Ned of the Hill/' said Murphy, ''sing us one 
 of hii< songs— 1 know 3'ou have them all as pat as your 
 prayers. " 
 
 "And says them oftener," said the doctor^ who still con- 
 tinued scribbling over the letter. 
 
 Edward, at the urgent request of many, sang that most 
 exquisite of tlie melodies, •'And doth not a meeting like 
 this make amends:" and long rang the plaudits^, and rapidly 
 circulateil the Ijottle, at its conclusion. 
 
 "' We'll be the ' Alps in the sunset/ my boys/' said 
 Murphy; " ami here's the wine to enlighten us! liut what 
 are ?/o?^ a])out thei-e, doctor? Is it a jjrescription you are 
 writing?" 
 
 " No. Prescriptions are written in Latin, and this is a 
 bit of Greek I'm doing. Mr. Eeddy has inspired me with 
 a classic spirit, and if you will permit me, I'll volunteer a 
 song [hravo! bravo!] . and give you another version of the 
 subject he so beautifully treated — only mine is not so heart- 
 breaking." 
 
 The doctor's proposition was received with cheers, and 
 after he had gor^e through the mockery of clearmg his 
 throat, and pitching his voice after the usual manner of 
 your would-be fine singers, he gave out, to the tune of a 
 well-known rollicking Irish lilt, the following burlesque 
 version of the subject of Eeddy's song:- - 
 
 LOVE AND LIQUOR 
 
 A Greek Allegory, 
 
 I. 
 
 Oh sure 'twould amaze yiz 
 
 How one Mister Tlieseus 
 Desar^ed ;i lovely yount^- ladj' of owld. 
 
 On a dissolute island, 
 
 Ail 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 basic a-- she jumped out of bed. 
 
 And ran do-vn to the coasi. 
 
 Where she .ooUcd likf a uiiosi. 
 Though "Iwas !ie was depaiuu — :l;v vu-abone flea
 
 HANDY ANDY. S9 
 
 And she cried, " Well-adayl 
 Sure my heart it is gray: 
 They're deceivers, them sojers, that goes on half-pay;^ 
 
 Whilst abusing the villain. 
 
 Came riding postilion 
 A Date 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 lasUji 
 
 \nd 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 bowld sarving-men, 
 
 ni. 
 
 They were dress'd in green livery. 
 
 But seem'd rather shivery, 
 For 'twas 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 
 0' 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 1 for brave Bacchus, 
 
 A bottle to crack us. 
 He's a friend of the people, like bowld Caius Gracchnfc 
 
 rv. 
 
 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, 
 Th^re'^ mihing can cure fi Hh taking ic dhrinf^i
 
 70 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 Uproarious were the "^bravos" which followed the 
 doctor's impromptu; the glasses overflowed, and were 
 emptied to his health aud song, as laughing faces nodded 
 to him round the table. The doctor sat seriously rocking 
 himself in his chair backward and forward, to meet the 
 various duckings of the beaming faces about him; for 
 every face beamed, but one — and that was the unfortunate 
 M'Garry's. He was most deplorably drunk, and began to 
 hold on by the table. At last he contrived to shove back 
 his chair and get on his legs; and making a sloping stagger 
 toward the wall, contrived by its support to scramble his 
 way to the door. There he balanced himself as well as he 
 could by the handle of the lock, which chance, rather than 
 design, enabled him to turn, and the door suddenly open- 
 ing, poor M'Garry nuide a rush across the landing-place, 
 and, stumbling against an opposite door, would have fallen, 
 had he not supported himself by the lock of that also, 
 which, again yielding to his heavy tugs, o])ened, and the 
 miserable wretch making another plunge forward, his 
 shins came in contact with the rail of a very low bed, and 
 into it he fell head foremost, totally unable to rise, and, 
 after some heavy grunts, he sunk into a profound sleep. 
 
 In this state he was discovered soon after by Murphy, 
 whose inventive faculty for frolic instantly suggested how 
 the apothecary's mishap might be made the foundation 
 of a good practical joke. Murtough went down-stairs, and 
 procuring some blacking and red pickled cabbage by 
 stealth, returned to the chamber where M^'Garry now lay 
 in a state of stupor, and dragging off his clothes, he mad') 
 long daubs across his back with the purple juice of th 
 pickle and Warren's paste, till poor M'Garry was as regu- 
 larly striped as a tiger, from his shoulder to his flank. He 
 then returned to the dinner-room, where the drinking bout 
 had assumed a formidable character, and others, as well 
 as the apothecary, began to feel the influence of their pota- 
 tions. Murphy confided to the doctor what he had done, 
 and said that, when the men were drunk enough, he would 
 contrive that M'Garry should be discovered, and then they 
 would take their measures accordingly. It was not very 
 long before his company were ripe enough for his designs, 
 and then ringing the bell, he demanded of the waiter, when 
 he entered, what had become of Mr. M'Garry. The waiter, 
 not having any knowledge on the subject, was desired to
 
 HANDY ANDY. 7l 
 
 inquire, and, a search being instituted, M'Garry was dis- 
 covered by Mrs. Fay in the state Murphy had left him in. 
 On seeing him, she was so terrified that she screamed, and 
 ran into the dinner-room, wringing her hands, and shout- 
 ing " Murder.'^ A great commotion ensued, and a general 
 rush to the bedroom took place, and exclamations of 
 winder and horror flew round the room, not only from the 
 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 little to increase the confusion. 
 
 "^Oh! who ever see the hke of it!" shouted Mrs. Fay. 
 ''He's kilt with the batin' he got! Oh, look at him — 
 black and blue all over! Oh, the murther it is! Oh, I 
 wouldn^t be Squire O'Grady for all his forfn." 
 
 "Gad, I believe he's killed, sure enough," said Mur- 
 phy. 
 
 "What a splendid action the widow will have!" said 
 Jack Horan, 
 
 "You forget, man," said Murphy, "this is not a case 
 for action of damages, 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 
 serious countenance. "'Tis is a bad business, sir — his 
 wounds are mortifying already." 
 
 Upon this announcement, there was a general retreat 
 from the bed, round which 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 over them, to 
 fumigate the room. 
 
 " A very proper precaution, Mrs. Fay," said the doctor, 
 with imperturbable gravity. 
 
 " That villainous smoke is choking me," said Jack Ho- 
 ran. 
 
 " Better that, sir, than have a pestilence in the house," 
 said Growling. 
 
 "' 111 leave the place," said Jack Horan. 
 
 " And I too," said Doyle. 
 
 "And I," said Eeddy; "^tis disgusting to a sensitive 
 mind. " 
 
 "Gentlemen!" said Murphy, shutting the door, "you 
 must not quit the house, I must have an inquest on the 
 body."
 
 72 HANDY AXDY. 
 
 te 
 
 An inquest!" they all exclaimed. 
 Yes — an inquest. " 
 
 *'But there's no coroner here," saidKeddy. 
 
 *' No matter for that," said ^Murpliy. '' I, as the under- 
 sheriff of the coimty, can preside ut this inquiry. Gentle- 
 men, take your places; bring in 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 intro- 
 duced, and the dnudcen fellows v.ere standing as straight 
 as they could, each Avith a candle in his hand, roinid the 
 still prostrate M'Carry. 
 
 Murphy then ojiened on them Avith a sjjeech, and called 
 in eveiy one in the house to ask did they know anything 
 about the matter; and it Avas not long before it Avas spread 
 all over the tOAvn that Squire O'drad}' had killed M'Garry, 
 and that the coroner's inquest brought in a verdict t-f 
 murder, and that the squire was going to be sent to jail. 
 
 This almost ineredilile hund)Ugof Murjjhy'a had gone on 
 for nearly half an hour, when the cold arising from his 
 want of clothes, and the viot about him, and the fumes of 
 the viiiegur, roused MXhirvy, Avho turned on the bed and 
 opened his eyes. There he saw a parcel of people standin;.' 
 round him, Avith candles in their hands, and countenances 
 of drunken Avonder and horror. 
 
 He uttered u holloAV groan, and cried — 
 
 " Save us and keep us! where am 1?" 
 
 " Ketire, gentlemen,^' said the doctor, waving his hand 
 authoritatively; " retire— all but the under-sheritf. " 
 
 Murphy cleared the room, and shut the dooi*, Avhile 
 M^Garry still kept exclaiming, "Save us and keep us! 
 where am 1? What's this? Lord!" 
 
 "You're dead!" said Murphy; "and the coroner's in- 
 quest has just sat on you I" 
 
 '* JJead!" 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 
 noticing M'Garry's question — " you see the effect of the 
 process. " 
 
 "Wonderful!" ?aid Murphy. 
 
 " Treserve us!" crieii the bewildered arothecarv. " Hoav
 
 ^- HANDY ANDY. 73 
 
 could I know you if I was dead, doctor? Oh^ doctor dear, 
 gure 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 
 galvanized you for a few moments. " 
 
 " Oh, Lord !" groaned M'Garry. " Doctor — indeed, doc- 
 tor?"^ 
 
 "You are in a state of temporary animation," said the 
 doctor. 
 
 " I do feel ver}' odd, indeed," said the terrified man, put- 
 ting his hands to his throbbing temples. " How long am 
 I dead?" 
 
 " A week next Tuesday," said the doctor. " Galvanism 
 has preserved you from decomposition." 
 
 M'Garry uttered a heavy groan, and looked up piteously 
 at his two tormentors. Murphy, fearful that the shock 
 might drive him out of his mind, said: " Perhaps, doctor, 
 you can preserve his life altogether; you have kept him 
 alive so long?" 
 
 "Ill try," said Growling; "hand me that tumbler." 
 
 Murphy handed him a tumbler full of water, and the 
 doctor gave it to M'Garr}', and desired him to try and 
 drink it; he put it to his lips and swallowed 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's aquafortis and asafetida, and he can't 
 taste it; we must give him another touch of the battery. 
 Hold him up, while I go into the next room, and immerse 
 the plates." 
 
 The doctor left the bedroom, and came back with a 
 hot poker and some lemon- juice and water. 
 
 " Turn him gently round," said he to Murphy, " while 
 I conduct the wires." 
 
 His order was obeyed; and giving M'Garry a touch of 
 the hot poker, the apothecary roared like a bull. 
 
 "That did him good!" said Growling. "Kow try, can 
 
 you taste anything?" and he gave him the lemon-juice and 
 
 «^ater. 
 
 " I taste a slight aci(J, doctof dear/^said WG?^vry, bopp- 
 f-nlh, ■...-/■/
 
 74 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 "You see what that last toncli did/* said Growling, 
 gravely; '*but the palate is still feeble; that's nearly pure 
 
 " 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 and fell forward, he looked horrified. *'0h, 
 dear! I can't walk. I'm afraid I am — I am no more!" 
 
 *' Don't despair," said the doctor; "1 pledge my profes- 
 sional reputation to save you now, since you can stand at 
 all, and your senses are partly restored. Let him lie down 
 again; try could he sleep — " 
 
 '' Sleep!" said M'Garry, with horror; "perhaps never to 
 awaken !" 
 
 "Til keep up the galvanic influence — don't be afraid; 
 depend upon me — there, lie down. Can you shut your 
 eyes? Yes, I see you can : don't open them so fast. Trj", 
 can you keep them shut? Don't open them till I tell you 
 — wait till I count two hundred and fifty. That's right — 
 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 a longer interval between every number, till 
 the monotonous sound, and the closed eye of the helplessly 
 drunken man, produced the effect desired by the doctor; 
 and tiic heavy snoring of the apothecary soon bore witness 
 that he slept. 
 
 We hope it is not necessary to assure our fair readers 
 that Edward O'Connor had nothing to do with this scene 
 of drunken absurdity. No : long before the evening's pro- 
 ceedings had assumed the character of a regular drinking 
 bout, he had contrived to make his escape, his head only 
 sufficiently excited to increase his sentimentality; so, in- 
 stead of riding home direct, he took a round of some eight 
 miles, to have a look at Merryvale, for there dwelt Fanny 
 Dawson — the darling Fanny Dawson, sister to Dick, whose 
 devilry was more than redeemed in the family by the an- 
 gelic sweetness of his lovely and sportive sister. For the 
 present, however, poor Edward O'Connor was not allowed 
 to address Fanny; but his love for her knew no abatement 
 notwithstanding; and to see the place where she dwelt had 
 for him a charm. There he sat in his saddle, at the gate, 
 looking up the long line of old trees through which the
 
 HANDY AKDY. 75 
 
 cool moonlight was streaming; and he fancied that Fanny's 
 foot had trodden that avenue perhaps a few hours before, 
 and even that gave him pleasure: for those who love witli 
 the fond enthusiasm of Edward O^Connor, the very vacancy 
 where the loved one has been is sacred. 
 
 The horse pawed impatiently to be gone, and Edward 
 reined him up with a chiding voice; but the animal con- ,' 
 tinning restless, Edward's apostrophes to his mistress, and . 
 warning to his horse, made an odd mixture; and we would - 
 recommend gentlemen, after their second bottle, not to let ' 
 themselves be overJieard in their love-fits; for even as fine 
 a fellow as Edward O'Connor is likely to be ridiculous un- 
 der such circumstances. 
 
 ^' Oh, Fanny I" cried Edward, "my adored Fanny I"' — 
 then to his horse, "' Be quiet, you brute! — My love, my 
 angel! — you devil, I'll thrash you, if you don't be quiet! — 
 though separated from me, you are always present to my 
 mind; your bright e3'es, your raven locks — yourmontli's as 
 hard as a paving-stone, you hrute! — Oh, Fanny! if fate be 
 ever propitious — should I be blessed with the divine pos- 
 session of your charms, you should then know — what a 
 devil you are! — you should then know the tenderest care. 
 I'll guard you, caress you, fondle you — I'll bury my sjrurs 
 ill you, you devil! — Oh, Fanny! beloved one! — farewell — 
 good-night — a thousand blessings on you! — and now ya oid 
 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 and Murphy left the room, and locked the dooi-. 
 They were encountered on the lobby by several curious 
 people, who wanted to know, *' was the man dead?" Tlie 
 doctor shook his head very gravely, and said, "\Xot 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 of O'Grady's, who chanced to be in the 
 town, and was all wonder and fright at the news of his 
 master having committed murder. Murphy and the doctor 
 proceeded to the dinner-room, where they found the drunk- 
 en men wrangling about what verdict they should bring 
 in, and a discursive dispute touching on '-'murder/"' and
 
 76 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " manslaughter," and '' accidental death/' and " the visit, 
 ation of God," mingled with noisy toasts and flowing cups, 
 until any sagacity the company ever possessed was sacri- 
 ficed to the rosy god. 
 
 The lateness of the hour, and the state of the company, 
 rendered riding home impossible to most of them; so Mrs. 
 Fay was called upon to prepare beds. The inn did not 
 afford a sufficiency of beds to accommodate every gentle- 
 man with a single one, so a toss-up was resorted to, to de- 
 cide who should sleep double. The fortune of war cast the 
 unfortunate James Reddy upon the doctor, who, though 
 one of the few who were capable of self-protection, pre- 
 ferred remaining at the inn to riding home some miles. 
 Now James Eeddy, though very drunk indeed, had sense 
 enough left to dislike the lot that fate had cast him. To 
 sleep with such a slovenly man as the doctor shocked 
 James, who was a bit of a dandy. The doctor seemed per- 
 fectly contented with the arrangement; and as he bade 
 Murphy '" good-night," a lurking devilment hung about 
 his huge mouth. All the men staggered off, or were sup- 
 ported, to their various beds, but one; and he could not 
 stir from the floor, where he lay hugging the leg of the 
 table. To every effort to disturb him he replied with an 
 implormg grunt to "let him alone," and he hugged the 
 leg of the table closer, exclaiming, ''1 won't leave you, 
 Mrs. Fay! — my darling Mrs. Fay! rowl your arms roimd 
 me, Mrs. Fay!" 
 
 "Ah, get up and go to bed, Misther Doyle," said Tim. 
 " Sure the misthress 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 im- 
 ploring tone. " Och sure, my heart's broke 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'd give the apples of my eyes to make sauce 
 for the cockles of your heart. Mrs. Fay, darhng, don't be 
 coy. Ha! I have you fast!" and he gripped the table 
 closer.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 7 
 
 f 
 
 ti- 
 ff 
 
 '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; accom- 
 panying the exclamation with a good shake, which some- 
 what roused the prostrate form. 
 '^ Who's there?" 
 
 '•' I want you to come to bed, sir; — eh, don't be so fool- 
 ish, Misther Doyle. Sure you don't think the misthress 
 would be rowlin' on the flu re there 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; " 1*11 never betray you. Hug me tight, 
 Mrs. Fay!" 
 
 "Bad luck to the care I'll take any more about you," 
 say Tim. "Sleep on the flure, if you like." And Doyle 
 was left to pass the night in the soft imaginary delights of 
 Mrs. Fay's mahogany embraces. 
 
 How fared it with James Eeddy? Alas! poor James 
 was doomed to a night of torment, the effects of which he 
 remembered for many days after. In fact, had James been 
 left to his choice, he would rather have slept with the 
 house-dog than with the doctor; but he dreaded the conse- 
 quences of letting old Jack perceive his antipathy; and 
 visions of future chastisement from the doctor's satirical 
 tongue awed him into submission to the present punish- 
 ment. He sneaked into bed, therefore, and his deep pota- 
 tions insured him immediate sleep, from which he awoke, 
 however, in the middle of the night in torture, from the 
 deep scratches inflicted upon him by every kick of old 
 Growling. At last poor Eeddy could stand it no longer, 
 and the earliest hour of dawn revealed him to the doctor 
 putting on his clothes, swearing like a trooper at one mo- 
 ment, and at the next apostrophizing the genius of gen- 
 tility. " What it is to have to do with a person that is not 
 a gentleman!" lie exclaimed, as he pulled on one leg of hi§ 
 ti'ousev^. ' ■■
 
 78 HANDY AIS^DY. 
 
 " 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 circumstances have obliged me, it has been 
 with gentlemen — gentlemen, doctor," and he 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 scratched me, sir, nearly to death. I am one gore of 
 blood—" 
 
 ''Tut, man! 'twas not my nails that scratched you; it 
 was only my spurs I put on going to bed, to keep you at a 
 distance from me; you were so disgustingly drunk, my 
 gentleman ! — look there," and he poked his leg out of bed, 
 and there, sure enough, Keddy saw a spur buckled; and, 
 dumfounded at this evidence of the doctor's atrocity, he 
 snatched up 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's riotous frolic at his expense; for, hi the morning, 
 taking advantage of the report of the inquest which he 
 knew must have reached Neck-or-nothing Hall, he made a 
 communication to O'Grady, so equivocally worded that 
 the Squire fell into the trap. The note ran as follows: 
 
 " SiK, — 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 can not 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 
 awfi'l 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 
 eum of money — say two hundred pounds — to lull the 
 storms which must otherwise burst or your devoted headj
 
 HAKDY ANDY. 79 
 
 and save your name from dishonor. I anxi*3iisly await 
 your answer, as proceedings must instantly commence, and 
 the law take its course, unless Mrs. M'Garry can be paci- 
 fied. 
 
 " I have the honor to be, sir, 
 
 " Your most obedient servant, 
 
 '' MURTOUGH MUEPHY. 
 
 "7^0 Gustavus Grmiby 0' Grady, Esq., 
 
 " NecJc-or-nothing Hall." 
 
 O'Grady was thoroughly frightened; and strange as it 
 may appear, did believe he could compromise for killing- 
 only a plebeian; and actually sent Murphy his note of 
 band for the sum demanded. Murtough posted off to 
 M^Garry: he and his wife received him with shouts of in- 
 dignation, and heaped reproaches on his head, for the trick 
 he had played on the ajDOthecary. 
 
 "Oh! Misther Murphy — never look me in the face 
 again \" said Mrs.' M'Garry , who was ugly enough to make 
 the request quite unnecessary; " to send my husband home 
 to me a beast \" 
 
 "Striped like a tiger!" said M'Garry. 
 
 "Blacking and pickled cabbage, Misther Murphy!" said 
 the wife. "Oh, fv, sir! I did not think you could be so 
 low." 
 
 "Galvanism!" said M^Garry, furiously. "My profes- 
 sional honor wounded !" 
 
 "Whisht, whisht, man!" said Murphy; "there's a finer 
 plaster than any in your shop for the cure of wounded 
 honor. Look at that!" and he handed him the note for 
 two hundred: " there's galvanism for you!" 
 
 " What is this?" said M'Garrv, in amazement. 
 
 " The result of last night's inquest," said Murphy. " You 
 have got your damages without a trial; so pocket your 
 money, and be thankful." 
 
 The two hundred pounds at once changed the aspect of 
 affairs. M'Garry vowed eternal gratitude, with protesta- 
 tions that Murphy was the cleverest attorney alive, and 
 ought to be chief justice. The wife was equally vociferous 
 in her acknowledgments, until Murtough, Avho, when he 
 entered the house, was near falling a sacrifice to the claws 
 of the apothecary's wife, was obliged to rush from the
 
 80 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 premises to shun the more terrible consequences of her 
 embraces. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 We sat BO long at our dinner, that we have almost lost 
 sight of poor Andy, to whom we must now return. When 
 he ran to his mother's cabin, to escape from the fangs of 
 Bick Dawson, there was no one within: his mother being 
 digging a few potatoes for supper from the httle ridge be- 
 hind the house, and Oonah Riley, her niece — an orphan 
 girl 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 see some ragged hens, whose eggs are 
 never consumed by their proprietors, except, perhaps, on 
 Eaater Sunday, but sold to the neighboring gentry at u 
 trifling price. 
 
 Andy cared not who was out, or who was in, provided he 
 could only escape from Dick; so without asking any ques- 
 tions, he crawled under the wretched bed in the dark corner, 
 where his mother and Oonah slept, and where the latter, 
 througli the blessed influence of health, youth, and an in- 
 nocent heart, had brighter dreams than attended many a 
 couch whose downy pillows and silken hangings would more 
 than purchase tlie fee-simple of any cabin in Ireland. 
 There Andy, in a state of utter exhaustion from his fears, 
 his race, and his thrashing, soon fell asleep, and the ter- 
 rors of Dick tlie Devil gave place to the blessing of the 
 profoundest slumber. 
 
 Quite unconscious of the presence of her darling Andy 
 was the Widow Rooney, as she returned from the potato 
 ridge into her cabin; depositing a sheough of the newly 
 dug esculent at the door, and replacing the spade in its 
 own corner of the cabin. At the same time Oonah re- 
 turned, after disposing of her eggs, and handed the three 
 pence she had received for them to her aunt, who dropjied 
 them into the deep pocket of blue striped tick which hung 
 at her side. 
 
 " Take the pail, Oonah, ma chree, and run to the well 
 for some wather to wash the pratees, while I get the pot 
 ready for bilin' them ; it wants scourin', for the pig was 
 atin' his dinner out iv it, the craythur!" 
 
 Off went Oonah with her pail, which she soon filled from
 
 HAKDY ANDT. 81 
 
 the clear spring; and placing the vessel on her head, 
 walked back to the cabin with that beautiful erect form, 
 free step, and graceful swaying of the figure, so peculiar to 
 the women of Ireland and the East, from their habit of 
 carrying weights upon the head. The potatoes were soon 
 washed; and as they got their last dash of water in the 
 skeough, whose open wicker-work let the moisture drain 
 from them, up came Larry Hogan, who, being what is 
 called a "civil-spoken man," addressed Mrs. Eooney in the 
 following agreeable manner: — 
 
 " Them's purty pratees, Mrs. Eooney; God save you, 
 ma'am!" 
 
 "'Deed an' they are — thank you kindly, Mr. Hogan; 
 God save you and yours 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 all home wid me; 
 but I'll just get a coal for my pipe, for it wint out on me 
 awhile agone with the fright. " 
 
 "Well, I've heer'd quare things, Larry Hogan," said 
 Oonah, laughing and shoAvmg her white teeth; " but I 
 never heer'd so quare a thing as a pipe goin' 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, you see. Ha, ha! And afther all now, Oonah, 
 Sr pipe is like a Christian in many ways; sure it's made o' 
 clay like a Christian, and has the spark o' life in it, and 
 while the breath is in it the spark is alive; but when the 
 breath is out of it the spark dies, and then it grows cowld 
 like a Christian; and isn't it a jileasant companion like a 
 Christian?" 
 
 " Faix, some Christians isn't pleasant companions at all!" 
 chimed in Mrs. Rooney, sententiously. 
 
 " Well, but they ought to be," said Larry; "and isn't a 
 pipe sometimes cracked like a Christian, and isn't it some- 
 times choked like a Christian?" 
 
 " Oh, choke you and your pipe together, Larry! will you 
 never have done?" said the widow. 
 
 r^TJie most impxoyinist thing m the world is mokW,"
 
 82 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 said Larry, who had now relit his pipe, and squatted him- 
 self on a three-legged stool beside the widow's fire. "The 
 most improvinist in the world"' — (paugh!) — and a paren- 
 thetical whiff of tobacco-smoke curled out of the corner of 
 Larry's mouth — '' is smokin'; for the smoke shows you, as 
 it were, the life o' man passu\' away like a puff " — (paugh!) 
 — "just like that; and the tibakky turns to ashes like his 
 poor perishable body; for, as the song says — 
 
 '"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 jou'ro smoking tibaakky!' " 
 
 And Larry sung the ditty as he crammed some of the weed 
 into the bowl of his pipe with his little finger. 
 
 "Why, you^re as good as a sarmint this evening Larry,"* 
 said thewidow, as she lifted the iron pot on the fire. 
 
 " There's worse sarmints nor that, I can tell you," re- 
 joined Larry, who took up the old song again — 
 
 " ' A pipe it larns us all this thing — 
 'Tis fair without and foul within. 
 Just like a sowl begrim'd with sin. 
 Think o' this when you're smoking tiba-akkyl'" 
 
 Larry puffed away silently for a few minutes, and when 
 Oonah had placed a few sods of turf roimd the pot in an 
 upright position, that the flame might curl upward round 
 them, and so hasten the boihng, she drew a stool 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 see but a ghost — " 
 
 "A ghost!!!" exclaimed the widow and Oonah, with 
 sujDpressed voices and distended mouth and eyes. 
 
 "To all appearance," said Larry; "but it was only a 
 thing was stuck in the hedge to f reken whoever was passin" 
 by; and as I kem up to it there was 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 be mis- 
 taken : and I heer 'd tittherin' inside the hedge, and then I 
 knew 'twas only devilment of some one." 
 
 "And what was it.^" asked Oonah. 
 
 " 'Twas a horse's head, in troth, with an owld hat ob
 
 HANDY ANDT. 83 
 
 the top of if. and iwo huck-briers gtuck out at each side, 
 and some rags hanging on them, and an owld breeches 
 ghakiii' undher the head; 'twas just altogether like a long 
 pale-faced man, with high shouldhers and no body, and 
 very long arms and short legs— faith, it frightened me at 
 first." 
 
 " And tio wondher,'"' said Oonah. *' Dear, but I think 
 I'd lose my life if I seen the like!" 
 
 '*^ J3ut sure," said the widow, *'' wouldn't you know that 
 ghosts never appears by day?" 
 
 '"Ay, but I hadn't time to think o' that, bein* taken 
 short wid the fright — more betoken, 'twas the place the 
 murdher happened in long ago. " 
 
 " Sure enough," said the wddow. " God betune us and 
 harm I" and she marked herself with the sign of the cross 
 as she spoke: '• and a terrible murdher it was," added she. 
 
 " How was it?" inquired Oonah, drawing her seat closer 
 to her aunt and Larry. 
 
 '"Twas a school-master, dear, that was found dead on 
 the road one mornin, with liis head full of fractions," said 
 the widow. 
 
 " All in jommethry,"* said Larry. 
 
 *' 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," said the 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 Latm for cut- 
 ting your throat. " 
 
 '*'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 hammer afther he done it, to take off the dis- 
 grace of the shoe-aside." 
 
 * Anything very badly broken is said by the Irish peasantry to be 
 in "jommethry."
 
 84 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 "But vrasn'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 word agin it, and if he was ahve 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; 'twas the crack in the head that killed 
 him, however he kem by it; but the vardict o' the crowuer 
 was, that it was done, and that some one did it, and that 
 they wor blackguards, whoever they wor, and persons 
 onknown; and sure if they wor onknown then, they'd al- 
 ways stay so, for who'd know them afther doing the like?" 
 
 "Thrue for you, Larry," said the widow; '^but what 
 was that to the murdher over at the green hills beyant?" 
 
 *'0h! 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 
 horrible stories, Larry and the old woman raked up every 
 murder and robbery that had occurred within their recol- 
 lection, while Oonah listened with mixed curiosity and 
 fear. The boiling over of the pot at length recalled them 
 to 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 off home," and to 
 the door he went accordingly; but as the evening had 
 closed into the darkness of the night, he paused on open- 
 ing it with a sensation he would not have liked to own. The 
 fact was that, after the discussion of numerous nightly 
 murders, he would rather have had daylight on the outside 
 of the cabin; for the horrid stories that had been revived 
 round the blazing hearth were not the best preparation for 
 going 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 notion why Larry paused upon the 
 threshold; for the moment he had crossed it, and that they 
 had exchanged their '' Good night, and God-speed you," 
 the door was rapidly closed and bolted. The widow re- 
 turned to the fireside and was silent, wliile Oonah looked 
 by the light of a candle into the boiling pot, to ascertain 
 if the potatoes were yet done, and cast a fearful glance up 
 ^e wide chimney as she withdrew from the inspection. 
 
 i^ \ "jvish Larry did jiot tell us moh borricjl stories/* said
 
 HANDY AKKY. 85 
 
 she, as she laid the rushlight on the table; " Til be dhraniin' 
 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. 
 
 '' T'roth, an' I b'lieve I was, child, and I'm sorry for it 
 now; but let us ate our supper, and go to bed, in God's 
 name. " 
 
 ••I'm af eared o' my life to go to bed!" said Oonah. 
 '^ Wisha! but I'd give the world it was mornin'." 
 
 " Ate your supper, child, ate your supper," said her 
 aunt, giving the example, which was followed by Oonah; 
 and after the light meal, their j^rayers were said, and per- 
 chance with a little extra devotion, from their peculiar 
 state of mind; then to bed they went. The rushlight being 
 extinguished, the only light renuiining M'as that shed from 
 the red embers of the decaying fire, which cast so uncer- 
 tain a glimmer within the cabin, that its effect was almost 
 worse than utter darkness to a timid person; for any object 
 within its range assumed a form unlike its own, and pre- 
 sented some fantastic image to the eye; and as Oonah, con- 
 trary to her usual habit, eoukl not fall asleep the moment 
 she went to bed, she coidd not resist peering forth from under 
 the bedclothes through the imcertain gloom, in a painful 
 state of watchfulness, which became grtidually relaxed into 
 an uneasy sleep. 
 
 The niglit was about half s|)ent when Andy began to 
 awake; and as he stretched his arms, and i-olled his whole 
 body round, he struck the l)uttom of the bed above him 
 in the action and woke his mother. " Dear me," thought 
 the widow, " I can't sleep at all to-night." Andy gave an- 
 other turn soon after, which roused Oonah. She started, 
 and shaking her aimt, asked her, in a low voice, if it was 
 she who kicked her, though she scarcely hoped an answer 
 in the affirmative, and yet dared not believe Avhat her fears 
 whispered. 
 
 " No, a cushla," whispered the aunt. 
 
 "Did you feel anjrthing?" asked Oonah, trembling 
 violently. 
 
 " What do you mane, alanna f" said the aunt. 
 
 Andy gave another roll. "There it is again!" gasped 
 Oonah; and in a whisper, scarcely above her breath, she 
 added, "Aunt, there's some one under the bed!"
 
 86 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 The aunt did not answer; but the two women drew 
 closer together and held each other in their arms, as if 
 their proximity afforded protection- Thus they lay m 
 breathless fear for some minutes, while Andy began to be 
 influenced by a vision, in which the duel, and the chase, 
 and the thrashing were all enacted over again, and soon an 
 odd word began to escape from the dream. " Gi' me the 
 pist'l, Dick— the pist'ir 
 
 " There are two of them!" whispered Oonah. '* God be 
 merciful to us! Do you 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'm afeared one o' them will catch me by 
 the leg." 
 
 "Howld him, liowld him!" grumbled Andy. 
 
 ^aildie with the fright, aunt! I feel I'm dyin'! Let 
 us say our prayers, aunt, for we're goin' to be murdhered!" 
 The two women began to repeat with fervor their avex and 
 pater nosters, while at this immediate juncture, Andy's 
 dream having borne him to the dirty ditch where Dick 
 Dawson had pummeled him, he began to vociferate, 
 " Murder, murder!" so fiercely, that the women screamed 
 together in an agony of terror, and '' Murder! murder!" 
 was shouted by the whole party; for, once the widow and 
 Oonah found their voices, they made good use of them. 
 The noise awoke Andy, who had, be it remembered, a tol- 
 erably long sleep by this time : and he having quite forgot- 
 ten where he had lain down, and finding himself confined 
 by the bed above him, and smothering for want of air, 
 with the fierce shouts of murder ringing in his ear, woke 
 in as great a fright as the women in the bed, and became a 
 party in the terror he himself had produced; every jjlunge 
 he gave under the bed inflicted a poke or a kick on his 
 mother and cousin, which was answered by the cry of 
 "Murder!" 
 
 "Let me out — let me out, Misther Dick!" roared Andy. 
 " Where am I at all? Let me out!" 
 
 "Help! help! murdher!" roared the women.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 8? 
 
 " ril never shoot any one again, Misther Dick — let me 
 
 Andy scrambled from under the bed, half awake, and 
 whole frightened by the darkness and the noise, which was 
 now increased by the barking of the cur-dog. 
 
 "Hie at him. Coaly!" roared Mrs. Kooney; " howld 
 him I howld him!'^ 
 
 Now as this address was often made to the cur respecting 
 the pig, when Mrs. Eooney sometimes wanted a quiet mo- 
 ment in tlie day, and the pig didn't like quitting the 
 premises, the dog ran to the corner of the cabin where the 
 pig habitually lodged, and laid hold of his ear with the 
 strongest testinidnials of affection, which polite attention 
 the pig acknowledged by a prolonged squealing, that 
 drowned the voices of the women and Andy together; and 
 now the cocks and hens that were roosting on the rafters 
 of the cabin were startled by the din, and the crowmg 
 and cackling and the fla])ping of the fj'ightened fowls, as 
 the tiew about in the dark, added to the general uproar and 
 confusion. 
 
 "^•'A — h!" screamed Oouah, '^'^take your hands off me!" 
 as Andy, getting from under the bed, laid his hand upon 
 it to assist him, and caught a grip of liis cousin. 
 
 " AYho are you at all?" cried Andy, making another claw, 
 and catching hold of his mother's nose. 
 
 ^'Oonah, they're murdhermg me!" shouted the widow. 
 
 The name of Oonah, and the voice of his mother, re- 
 called his senses to Andy, who shouted, " Mother, mother! 
 what's the matter?" A frightened hen tiew 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. 
 
 *'Xo, I don't know you: by the vartue o' my oath, I 
 don't; and 111 never swear again you, jintlemen, if you 
 lave the place and spare our lives!" 
 
 Here the hens flew against the dresser, and smash went 
 the plates and dishes. 
 
 " Oh, jintlemen dear, don't rack and ruin me that way; 
 don't destroy a lone woman." 
 
 *' Mother, mother, what's this at all? Don^t you know 
 your own Ajidy?'^
 
 88 HANDY 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 hear that? — 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 evi- 
 dence in favor of his 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 a spark out o' the turf cendhers." 
 
 "Some o' them will catch me, may be," said Oonah. 
 
 *' Get up, I tell you !" said the widow. 
 
 Oonah now arose, and poked her way to the fire-place, 
 where, by dint of blowing upon the embers and poking the 
 rushlight among the turf ashes, a light was at length ob- 
 tained. She then returned to the bed, and threw her pet- 
 ticoat over her shoulders. 
 
 *' What's this at all?" said the widow, rising, and wrap- 
 ping a blanket round 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 here yet!" said she. 
 
 Andy seized the poker, and standing on the defensive, 
 desired the villain to come out: the demand was not com- 
 plied with. 
 
 " There's nobody there," said Andy. 
 
 *'I'll take my oath there is," said Oonah; " a dirty black- 
 guard, without any 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 the dog — the dog having discovered a greater attraC"
 
 BANDY AKDY. 89 
 
 tion in some fat that was knocked from the dresser, which 
 the widow intended for the dipping of rushes in; but the 
 dog being enhghtened to his own interests without rush- 
 lights, and preferring mutton fat to pig^s ear, had suffered 
 the grunter to go at large, while he was captivated by the 
 fat. The clink of a three-legged stool the widow seized to 
 the rescue was a stronger argument against the dog than he 
 was prepared to answer, and a remnant of fat was preserved 
 from the rapacious Coaly. 
 
 " Where's the rest o' the robbers?" saidOonah; " there's 
 three o' them, ] know.'' 
 
 " You're dhramin'," said Andy. " Divil a robber is here 
 but myself." 
 
 *' And what brought you here?" said his mother. 
 
 "1 was af eared they'd murdher me!" said Andy. 
 
 *^Murdher!" exclaimed the Avidow and Oonah together, 
 still startled by the 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 blimdhers. Sure Misther Dawson wouldn't be 
 goin' to murther any one; let us look round the cabin, 
 and find out who's in it, for I won't be aisy ontil 1 
 look into every comer, to see there's no robbers in the 
 place : for I tell you again, there was three o' them undher 
 the bed." 
 
 The search was made, and the widow and Oonah at 
 length satisfied that there were no midnight assassins there 
 with long knives to cut their throats; and then they began 
 to thank God that their lives were safe. 
 
 "But, oh! look at my chaynee!" satd the widow, clasp- 
 ing her hands, and casting a look of despair at the shat- 
 tered delf that lay around her; "look at my chaynee!" 
 
 " And what icas it brought you here?" said Oonah, fac- 
 ing round on Andy, with a dangerous look, rather, in her 
 bright eye. "Will you tell us that — what tvas it?" 
 
 " I came to save my life, I tell you," said Andy. 
 
 "' To put us indhread 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 of us." 
 
 " Thrue for you, alanna," said her aunt. 
 
 " And would no place sarve you, indeed, but undher our
 
 90 HAlfDY AXDT. 
 
 bed, you yagabone?" said his mother, roused to a sense of 
 his delinquency; " to come in like a merodin' villain as j'ou 
 are, and hide under the bed, and frighten the lives out of 
 us, and rack and ruin my place!" 
 
 '' 'Twas 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, which w^ould have knocked him 
 down, only that Oonah kept him up by an equally well-a])- 
 plied box on the other. 
 
 "Would you murdher me?" shouted Andy, as he saw 
 his mother lay hold of the broom. 
 
 " Aren't you after frightening the lives out of us, you 
 dirty, good-for-nothing, mischief-making — " 
 
 On poured the torrent of abuse, rendered more impress- 
 ive by a whack at every word. Andy roared, and the 
 more he roared the more did Oonah and his 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 sung Scott. Quite agreeing with the antithesis of the 
 last line, perhaps in the second, where he talks of men and 
 saints, another view of the subject, or turn of the jjlirase, 
 might have introduced sinners quite as successfully. This 
 is said without the smallest intention of using the word 
 simiers in a questionable manner. Love, in its purest 
 shape, may lead to sinning on the part of j^ersons least in- 
 terested in the question; for is it not a sin when the folly, 
 or caprice, or selfishness of a third party or fourth makes a 
 trio or quartet of that which nature undoubtedly in- 
 tended for a duet, and so spoils it? 
 
 Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts — ay, 
 and even cousins — sometimes put in their oar to disturb 
 that stream which is troubled enough without their inter- 
 ference, and, as the Bard of Avon says, 
 
 " Never did run smooth." 
 
 And so it was in the case of Fanny Dawson and Edward 
 O'Connor. A piece of innocent f"P (^^^ ^I^r paj-t cd h^_ 
 brother, and blind pertinacity — mueeu, aowungnt ao-
 
 HANDY ANDT. 91 
 
 surflity — on her father's side, interrupted the intercourse 
 of dff action, which had subsisted silently for many a long 
 day between the lovers, but was acknowledged, at last, 
 with delight to the two whom it most concerned, and sat- 
 isfaction to all who knew or held them dear. Yet the 
 harmony of this sweet concordance of spirits was marred 
 by youthful frolic and doting absurdity. This welding to- 
 gether of hearts in the purest fire of nature's own contriv- 
 ing was broken at a blow by a weak old man. Is it too 
 much to call this a sin ? Less mischievous things are 
 branded with the name in the common-place parlance of 
 the world. The cold and phlegmatic may not understand 
 this; but they who canloxQ know how bitterly every after- 
 hour of life may be poisoned with the taint which hapless 
 love has infused into the current of future years, and can 
 believe how many a heart equal to the highest enterprise 
 has been palsied by the touch of despair. Sweet and holy 
 is the duty of child to parent; but sacred also is the obliga- 
 tion of those who govern in so hallowed a position. Their 
 rule should be guided by justice; they should pray for 
 judgment in their mastery. 
 
 Fanny Dawson's father was an odd sort of person. His 
 ancestors were settlers in Ireland of the time of William 
 the Third, and having Avon their lands by the sword, it is 
 quite natural the love of arms should have been hereditary 
 in the family. Mr. Dawson, therefore, had served many 
 years as a soldier, and was a bit of a martinet, not only in 
 military but in all other affairs. His mind was of so 
 tenacious a character, that an impression once received 
 there became indelible; and if the Major once made up his 
 mind, or indulged the belief, that such and such things 
 were so and so, the waters of truth could never wash out 
 the mistake — stubbornness had written them there with 
 her own indelible marking-itik. 
 
 Now, one of the old gentleman's weak points was a mu- 
 seum of the most heterogeneous nature, consisting of odds 
 and ends from all parts of the world, and appertaining to 
 all subjects. Xothing was too high or too low: a bronze 
 helmet from the plains of Marathon, which, to the classic 
 eye of an artist, conveyed the idea of a Minerva's head be- 
 neath it, would not have been more prized by the Major 
 than a cavalry cap with some bullet-mark of which he could 
 tell an anecdote. A certain skiaof a tiger he prized much.
 
 92 HANDY AKDT. 
 
 because the animal had dined on his dearest, friend in one 
 of the jungles of Bengal; also a pistol which he vouched for 
 as being the one with which Hatfield fired at George the 
 Third; the hammer with which Crawley (of Hessian-boot 
 memory) murdered his landlady; the string which was on 
 Viotti's violin when he played before Queen Charlotte; 
 the horn which was suppoHed to be in the lantern of Guy 
 Fawkes; a small piece of the coat worn by the Prince of Or- 
 ange on his landing in England; and other such relics. 
 But far above these, the Major prized the skeleton of a 
 horse's head, which occujDied the principal place in his 
 museum. This he declared to be part of the identical 
 horse which bore Duke Schomberg when he crossed the 
 Boyne, in the celebrated battle so called; and with whimsi- 
 cal ingenuity, he had contrived to string some wires upon 
 the bony fabric, which yielded a sort of hurdy-gurdy vi- 
 bration to the strings when touched : and the Major's most 
 favorite feat was to play the tune of the Boyne Water on 
 the head of Duke Schomberg's horse. In short, his col- 
 lection was composed of trifles from north, south, east, and 
 west: some leaf from the prodigal verdure of India, or 
 gorgeous shell from the Pacific, or paw of bear, or tooth of 
 walrus; but beyond all teeth, one pre-eminently was val- 
 ued — it was one of his own, which he had lost the use of 
 by a wound in the jaw, received in action; and no one ever 
 entered his house and escaped without hearing all about it, 
 from the first shot fired in the affair by the skirmishers, tu 
 the last charge of the victorious cavalry. The tooth was 
 always produced along with the story, together with tl.. 
 declaration, that every dentist who ever saw it protested it 
 was the largest human tooth ever seen. Now some littie 
 sparring was not infrequent between old Mr. Dawson and 
 Edward, on the subject of their respective museums: the 
 old gentleman " pooh-poohing " Edward's "rotten, rusty 
 rubbish," as he called it, and Edward defending, as gently 
 as he could, his patriotic partiality for natural antiquities. 
 This little war never led to any evil results; for Edward 
 not only loved Fanny too well, but respected age too much 
 to lean hard on the old gentleman's weakness, or seek to re- 
 duce his fancied superiority as a collector; but the tooth, 
 the Lll-omened tooth, at last gnawed asunder the bond of 
 friendship and affection whic^i had subsisted between ih& 
 ^wo fawu^es for so many yeaj's.
 
 HANDY AMDT. 93 
 
 The Major had paraded his tooth so often, that Dick 
 Dawson began to tire of it, and for the purpose of making- 
 it a source of amusement to himself, he stole his father's 
 keys^ one day, and opening the cabinet in which his tooth 
 was enshrined, he abstracted the grinder which nature had 
 bestowed on the Major, and substituted in its stead a horse's 
 tooth of no contemptible dimensions. A i)arty some days 
 after dined with the old gentleman, and after dinner the 
 story of the skirmish turned up, as a matter of course, and 
 the enormous size of the tooth wound u}) the tedious tale. 
 
 " Hadn't you better show it to them, sir.''" said Dick, from 
 the foot of the table. 
 
 " Indeed, then, I will," said the Major; "^for it really is 
 
 euriosity, " 
 
 " Let me go for it, sir," said Dick, Avell knowing he would 
 Ve refused. 
 
 '''No, no," answered his father, rising; ''I never let any 
 one go to my pet cabinet but myself;" and so saying he 
 left the room, and proceeded to his museum. It has been 
 already said that the Majtjr's mind was of that character, 
 which once being satistied of an}l]iing could never be con- 
 vinced of the contrary; and having for years been in the 
 habit of drawing his own tooth out of his own cabinet, the 
 increased size of the one which he now extracted from it 
 never struck him; so he returned to the dining-room, and 
 presented with great exultation to the company the tooth 
 Dick had substituted. It niay be imagined how the 2)eople 
 stared, when an old gentleman, and moreover a major, de- 
 clared, upon his honor, that a great horse's tooth was his 
 own; but having done so, politeness forbade they should 
 contradict him, more particularly at the head of his ow^n 
 table, so they smothered their smiles as well as they could, 
 and declared it was the most wonderful tooth they ever be- 
 held; and instead of attempting to question the fact, they 
 launched forth in expressions of admiration and surprise, 
 and the fable, instead of being questioned, w'as received 
 with welcome, and made food for mirth. The difficulty 
 was not to laugh; and in the midst of twisted mouths, af- 
 fected sneezing, and applications of pocket-handkerchiefs 
 to rebellious cacliinnations, Dick, the maker of the joke, sat 
 unmoved, sipping his claret wdth a serenity which might 
 have roused the envy of a Red Indian. 
 
 "1 think that's something like a tooth!" said Dick.
 
 94 HANDT ANDY. 
 
 "Prodigious — wonderfiil — 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 created such a sensation; and when at last it 
 was returned to him, he turned it about in Ms own hand, 
 and cast many fond glances at the monstrosity, before it 
 was finally deposited in his waistcoat pocket. Tliis was 
 the most ridiculous part of the exhibition: to see a gentle- 
 man, with the use 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 whole character. A re- 
 ceived opinion was with him unchangeable, no alteration of 
 circumstances could shake it: it was Ms tooth. A belief 
 or a doubt was equally sacred Avith him ; and though his 
 senses in the present case should have shoAvn him it was a 
 horse's tooth — no, it was a jjiece of himself — his own dear 
 tooth. 
 
 After this party, the success which crowned his anecdote 
 and its attendant relic made him fonder of showing it off; 
 and many a day did Dick the Devil enjoy the astonishment 
 of visitors as his father exhibited the enormous tooth as 
 his own. Fonder and fonder grew the Major of his tooth 
 and his story, until the unlucky day Edward O'Connor 
 happened to be in the museum, with a party of ladies, to 
 whom the old gentleman was showing off nis treasures with 
 great effect and some pains; for the Major, like most old 
 soldiers, was very attentive to the fair sex. At last the pet 
 cabinet was opened, and out came the tooth. One univer- 
 sal exclamation of surprise arose on its appearance: " What 
 a wonderful man the Major was to have such a tooth!" 
 Just then, by an unlucky chance, Edward, who had not 
 seen the Major produce the wonder from his cabinet, per- 
 ceived the relic in the hand of one of the ladies at the ex- 
 tremity of the group, and, fancying it had dropped fi'om 
 the horse's head, he said: 
 
 " I suppose that is one of the teeth out of old Schom- 
 berg's skulk" 
 
 The Major thought this an impertinent allusion to his
 
 HANDY ANDY. 96 
 
 political bias, and said, very sliarply, " 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's evasion. 
 
 " I assure you," said Edward, with the strongest evi- 
 dence of a desire to be reconciled in his voice and manner 
 — '^I assure you, sir, it was of tliis tooth I spoko;" and he 
 held up the tooth the Major had produced as his own. 
 
 ''^I know it was, sir," said the major, ''and therefore I 
 didn't relish your 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 a horse's tooth." 
 
 "Give it to me, sir!" said the Major, snatching it from 
 Edward. " You may think this very witty, Mr. O'Connor, 
 but /don't; if my tooth is of superhuman size, I'm not to 
 be called a liorse for it, sir; — nor Schomberg, sir! — horse — 
 ahem! better than ass, however." 
 
 While this brief but angry outbreak took place, the by- 
 standers, of course, felt excessively uncomfortable; and 
 poor Edward knew not what to do. The Major he knew 
 to be of too violent a temper to attempt explanation for the 
 present: so boAving to the ladies, he left the room, with 
 that flushed look of silent vexation to which courteous 
 youth is sometimes obliged to submit at the hands of in- 
 temperate age. 
 
 Neither Fanny nor Dick was at home when this occurred, 
 so Edward quitted the house, and was forbidden to enter it 
 afterward. The Major suddenly entertained a violent dis- 
 like to Edward O'Connor, and hated even to hear his name 
 mentioned. It was in vain that explanation was attempted ; 
 his self-love had received a violent shock, of wliich Edwai-d 
 had been the innocent means. In vain did Dick endeavor 
 to make himself the peace-offering to his father's wounded 
 consequence; in vain was it manifest that Fanny was 
 grieved: the old Major persisted in declaring that Edward 
 O'Connor was a self-sufficient jackanapes, and forbade most 
 peremptorily that further intercourse should take place be- 
 fcween him and his daughter; and she had too high a sense
 
 96 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 of duty, and he of honor, to seek to violate the command. 
 But though they never met, they loved not the less fondly 
 and truly; and Dick, grieved that a frolic of his should 
 have interrupted the happiness of a sister he loved and a 
 friend he valued, kept up a sort of communion between 
 them by talking to Edward about Fanny, and to Fanny 
 about Edward, whose last song was sure, through the good 
 offices of the brother, to find its way into the sister's al- 
 bum, already stored with many a tribute from her lover'g 
 nuse. 
 
 Fanny was a sweet creature — one of those choice and 
 piquant bits of Nature's creation which she sometimes 
 vouchsafes to treat the world with; just to show what she 
 can do. Her person I shall not attempt to describe; for 
 however one may endeavor to make words play the part of 
 color, lineament, voice, and expression — and however suc- 
 cessfully — still a verbal description can never convey a 
 true notion of personal charms; and personal charms 
 Fanny had, decidedly; not that she was strictly beautiful, 
 but, at times, nevertheless, eclipsing beauty far more reg- 
 ular, and throwing symmetry into the shade, by some 
 charm which even they whom it fascinated could not de- 
 fine. 
 
 Her mind was as clear and pure as a mountain stream; 
 and if at times it chafed and was troubled from the course 
 in which it ran, the temporary turbulence only made its 
 limjoid depth and quietness more beautiful. Her heart 
 wa,s the very temple of generosity, the throne of honor, and 
 the seat of tenderness. The gentlest sympathies dwelt in 
 her soul, and answered to the slightest call of another's 
 grief; while mirth was dancing in her eye, a word that im- 
 plied the sorrow of another would bring a tear there. She 
 was the sweetest creature in the world! 
 
 The old Major, used to roving habits from his profes- 
 sion, would often go on a ramble somewhere for weeks to- 
 gether, at which times Fanny went to Merryvale to her 
 sister. Mistress Egan, who was also a fine-hearted creat- 
 ure, but less soft and sentimental than Fanny. She was 
 of the dashing school rather, and before she became the 
 mother of so large a family, thought very little of riding: 
 over a gate or a fence. Indeed, it was her high mettle 
 that won hor the Squire's heart. The story is not long, 
 m<X it may m well be told her©--thoiigh a little out qJ
 
 HA2fDY ANDY. 97 
 
 place, perhaps; but it's an. Irish storj, and may therefore 
 be gently irregular. 
 
 The Squire bad admired Letitia Dawson, as most of the 
 young men of her acquaintance did — appreciated her roimd 
 waist and well-turned ankle, her sj^irited eyes and cheerful 
 laugh, and danced with her at every ball as much as any 
 other fine girl in the country : but never seriously thought 
 of her as a wife, until one day a pariy visited the parish 
 churdi, whose old tower was often ascended for the fine 
 view it commanded. At this time the tower was under 
 repair, and the masons were drawmg up materials in a 
 basket, which, worked by a rope and pulley, swung on a 
 beani protruding from the top of the tower. The basket 
 had just been lowered for a fresh load of stones, when Le- 
 titia exclaimed, " Wouldn't it be fine fun to get into the 
 basket, and be hauled up to the top of the tower? — how 
 astonished the workmen would be to see a lady get out of 
 it!" ^ ^ 
 
 " I would be more astonished to see a lady get into it,'* 
 said a gentleman jjresent. 
 
 " Then here goes to astonish you,'' said Letitia, laying 
 hold of the rope and jumping into the basket. In vain did 
 her friends and the workmen below endeavor 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 toward the 
 church. Their attention was attracted by so strange a 
 sight; and, spurring onward, Egan exclaimed, '*^By the 
 powers! 'tis Letty Dawson! Well done, Letty! — ^you're the 
 right girl for my money! By Jove! if ever'^I marry, Let- 
 ty's the woman." And sure enough she was the woman, 
 in another month. 
 
 Xow, Fanny would not have done the basket feat, but 
 she had plenty of fun in her, notwithstandmg; her spirits 
 were light; and though, for some time, she felt deeply the 
 separation from Edward, she rallied after a while, felt that 
 unavailing sorrow but impaired the health of the mind, 
 and, supported by her good sense, she waited in hopeful- 
 ness for the time that Edward might claim and win her. 
 
 At Merrp'ale, now, all was expectation about the antici- 
 pated election. The ladies were making up bows of ribbon 
 for their partisans, and Fanny had been so employed all 
 the morning alone in the drawing-room, her pretty fingers 
 pinching and pressing and stitching the silken favors, whil»
 
 98 HANDT ANDY. 
 
 no"W and then her hand wandered to a wicker-basket which 
 lay beside her, to draw forth a scissors or a needle-case. 
 As she worked, a shade of thought crossed her sweet face, 
 like a passing cloud across the sun; the pretty fingers 
 stopped — the work was laid down — and a small album 
 gently drawn from the neighboring basket. She opened 
 the book and read; they were lines of Edward O'Connor's, 
 which she drank into her heart; they were the last he had 
 written, which her brother had 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 saow 1 
 
 n. 
 
 The hope of airy birth. 
 
 Like the snow. 
 Is stain'd on reaching earth. 
 
 Like tlie snow: 
 While 'tis sparkling in the rajC ^ 
 
 'Tis melting fust away, 
 
 Like the snow I 
 
 m. 
 
 A cold, deceitful thing 
 
 Is the snow. 
 Though it come on dove like wing— 
 
 The false snow ! 
 'Tis but rain disguised appears; 
 And our liopes are frozen tears, 
 
 LilvC the snowl 
 
 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 — ^I wisl> 
 he were not so sad!"
 
 ajJSDY A270I; 99 
 
 CHAPTER VTIL 
 
 LoTE is of as many patterns, cuts, shapes, and colors as 
 people's garments; and the loves of Edward O'Connor and 
 Fanny Dawson had very little resemblance to the tender 
 passion which agitated the breast of the Widow Flanagan, 
 and made Tom Dvirfy her slave. Yet the widow and Tom 
 demand the ofhces of the chronicler as well as the more 
 elevated pair; and this our veracious history could never 
 get on, if we exhausted all our energies upon the more en- 
 gaging personages, to the neglect of the rest: your plated 
 handles, scrolls, and mountings are all very well on your 
 carriage, but it could not move without its plain iron bolts. 
 
 Now the reader must know something of the fair Mis- 
 tress Flanagan, who was left in very comfortable circum- 
 stances by a niggardly husband, Avho did her the favor to 
 die suddenly one day, to the no small satisfaction of 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 the export provision trade, which, 
 every one knows, is considerable in Ireland; and his deal- 
 ings in beef and butter were extensive. This brought him 
 into contact Avith the farmers for many miles round, whom 
 he met, not only every market-day at every market-town 
 in the county, but at their own houses, where a knife and 
 fork were always at the service of the rich buyer. One of 
 these was a certain Mat Kiley, who, on smalL means, man- 
 aged to live, and rear a son and three bouncing, good- 
 looking girls, who helped to make butter, feed calves, and 
 superintend the education of pigs; and on these active and 
 comely lasses Mr. Flanagan often cast an eye of admiration, 
 with a view to making one of them his wife; for though he 
 might have had his pick and choice of many fine girls in 
 the towns he dealt in, he thought the simple, thrifty, and 
 industrious habits of a jjlain farmer's daughter more likely 
 to conduce to his happiness and j^'fofit — for in that princi- 
 pally lay the aforesaid happiness of Mr. Flanagan. Now, 
 this intention of honoring one of the three Miss Eileys with 
 promotion he never hinted at in the remotest degree, and 
 even in his own mind the thought was mixed up with fat
 
 100 HAifDY ANDY. 
 
 cattle and prices current; and it was not imtil a leisuro 
 moment one day, when he was paying Mat Riley for some 
 of his farming produce, that he 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 match for one of his daughters, and said they were 
 *' comely lumps o' girls, sure enough; but, what was bet- 
 ther, 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 tenpinnies is 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've been 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 girls for making up a bit o' butther agen any 
 girls in Ireland; and my cows is good, and the pasture 
 prime. " 
 
 " 'Tis a farthing a poun' too high. Mat; and the market 
 not lively." 
 
 " The butther is good, Mr. Flanagan; and not decenther 
 girls in Ireland than 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, may be?" 
 
 " Faith, I don't know myself. Mat. Which do you think 
 yourself?" 
 
 " Throth, myself doesn't know — they're all good. Nanoe 
 is nice, and Biddy's biddable, and Kitty's 'cute. " 
 
 " You're a snug man. Mat; you ought to be able to give 
 a husband a trifle 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, woukl be betther help to an honest ^u-
 
 HAKDV ANDY. 101 
 
 dustherin' man than one o' your sliowy lantherumswash 
 (livils out of a town, that would spend more than she'd 
 bring with her." 
 
 "That's thrue. Mat. Ill marry one o^ your girls, I 
 think." 
 
 ''Youllhave my blessing sir; and proud I'll be — and 
 proud the girl ought to be — that I'll say. And suj^pose, 
 now, you'd come over on Sunday, and take share of a 2jlain 
 man's dinner, and take your pick o' the girls — there's a fine 
 bull goose that Nance towld me she'd have ready afther 
 last mass; for Father Ulick said he'd come and dine with 
 us." 
 
 "I can't. Mat; I must he in the canal-boat on Sunday; 
 but I'll go and breakfast with you to-morrow, on my way 
 to Bill Mooney's, who has a fine lot of pigs to seU — remark- 
 able 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 reckon- 
 ings make long friends." 
 "'Thrue for you, sir." 
 " Nothing to give with the girl, you say?*' 
 " My blessin' only, sir. " 
 
 **Well, vou must throw in that butther. Mat, and take 
 the farthin' off." 
 
 ''It's yours, sir," said Mat, delighted, loading Flanagan 
 with " Good-byes," and ''God-save-yous," until they should 
 meet next morning at breakfast. 
 
 Mat rode home in great glee at the prospect of providing 
 so well for one of his girls, and told them a man would be 
 there the next morning to make choice of one of them for 
 his wife. The gii'ls, very naturally, inquired who the man 
 was; to which Mat, in the plenitude of patriarchal power, 
 replied, ''that was nothing to them;" and his daughters 
 had sufficient experience of his temper to Know there was 
 no use in asking more questions after such an answer. He 
 only added, she would be "well off that should get him." 
 Now, their father being such a curmudgeon, it is no won- 
 der the girls were willing to take the chance of a good- 
 humored husband instead of an iron-handed father: so they 
 set to work to make themselves as smart as possible for the 
 approaching trial of their charms, and a battle royal ensued
 
 102 HANDY AXDT. 
 
 between the sisters as to the right and title to certain piecea 
 of dress which were hitherto considered a sort of common 
 property amongst them, and of which the occasion of a fair, 
 or a pattern,* or market-day was enough to estabhsh the 
 possession, by wliichever of tlie girls went to the public 
 place; but now, when a husband was to be won, privilege 
 of all sorts was pleaded, in which discussion there was more 
 noise than sound reason, and so many violent measures to 
 secure the envied morceaux, that some destruction of finery 
 took place where there was none to spare; and, at last, 
 seniority was agreed upon to decide the question; so that 
 when Nance had the first plunder of the chest which held 
 all their clothes in common, and Biddy made the second 
 grab, poor Kitty had little left but her ordinary rags to 
 appear in. But as, in the famous judgment on Ida's 
 Mount, it is hinted that Venus carried the day by her 
 scarcity of drapery, so did Kitty conquer by want of clothes: 
 not that Love sat in judgment; it was Plutus turned the 
 scale. But, to leave metaphor and classic illustration, and 
 go back to Mat Eiley's cabin — the girls were washing, and 
 starching, and ironing all night, and the morning saw them 
 arrayed for conquest. Flanagan came, and breakfasted, 
 and saw the three girls. A flashy silk handkerchief which 
 Nancy wore put her hors de combat very soon; she was set 
 down at once, in his mind, as extravagant. Biddy might 
 have had a chance if she had made anything like a fair 
 division with her youngest sister; but Kitty had been so 
 plundered, that her shabbiness won an easy victory over the 
 niggard's heart; he saw in her ''the making of a thrifty 
 wife;" besides which, she was possibly the best-looking, and 
 certainly the youngest of the three; and there is no know- 
 ing how far old Flanagan might have been influenced by 
 those considerations. 
 
 He spoke very little to any of the girls; but, when he 
 was leaving the house, 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'll have." 
 
 Great was the rage of the elder sisters, for Flanagan was 
 notoriously a wealthy man; and when he quitted the house, 
 
 * A half-holy, half-merry meetiuir. held at some certain place, on 
 :iie day dedicated to the saint who is supposed to be the PATRON o( 
 tlit! spot— beoce the nawe "pattern."
 
 HAXDY AXDY. 103 
 
 Kitty set up such a shout of laughter, that her father and 
 Bisters told her several times '^ not to make a fool of her- 
 self." Still she laughed, and throughout the day some- 
 times broke out into sudden roars; aud while her sides 
 shook with merriment, she would throw herself into a 
 chair, or lean against the wall, to rest herself after the 
 fatigue of her uproarious mirth. Now Kitty, while she 
 laughed at the discomfiture of her greedy sisters, also 
 laughed at the mistake into which Flanagan had fallen; 
 for, as her father said of her, she was " 'cute," and she 
 more than suspected the cause of Flanagan's choice, and 
 enjoyed the anticipation of his disappointment, for she was 
 fonder of dress than either Nancy or Biddy, and revelea 
 in the notion of astonishing "^the old niggard," as she 
 called him; and this she did '• manv a time and oft." In 
 vain did Flanagan try to keep her extravagance within 
 bounds. She would either wheedle, reason, bully, or 
 shame him into doing wliat she said '' was right and j^roper 
 for a snug man like him. " His house was soon well fur- 
 nished; she made him get her a jaunting-car. She some- 
 times would go to parties, and no one was better dressed 
 than the woman he chose fo:' her rags. He got enraged 
 now and then, but Kitty pacified him by soft words and 
 daring inventions of her fertile fancy. Once, when he 
 caught her in the fact of wearing a costly crimson silk 
 gown, and stormed, she soothed liim by telling him it was 
 her old black one she had dyed; and this bouncer, to the 
 great amusement of her female friends, he loved to repeat, 
 as a proof of what a careful contriving creature he had in 
 Kitty. She was naturally quick-witted. She managed 
 him admirably, deceived him into being more comfortable 
 than ever he had been before, and had the laudable am- 
 bition of endeavoring to improve both his and her own con- 
 dition in every way. She set about educating herself, too, 
 as far as her notions of education went; and, in a few years 
 after her marrying, by judiciously using the means which 
 her husband's wealth a&orded her of advancing her posi- 
 tion in society, no one could have recognized in the lively 
 and well-dressed Mrs. Flanagan the gawky daughter of a 
 middling farmer. She was very good-natured, too, toward 
 her sisters, whose condition she took care to improve with 
 her own; and a very fair match for the eldest was made 
 through her means. The younger one was often staying
 
 104 HANDY AKDY. 
 
 in her house, dividing lier time uearly between tlie town 
 and her father's farm, and no part)' which Mrs. J'lanagan 
 gave or appeared at went oflf without giving Biddy a chance 
 to " settle herself in the world/'' This was not done with- 
 out a battle now and then with old Flanagan, whose stingi' 
 ness would exhibit itself upon occasion; but at last all let 
 and liinderance to the merry lady ceased, by the sudden 
 death of her old husband, who left her the entire of his 
 property, so that, for the first time, his luill was her pleas- 
 ure. 
 
 After the funeral of the old man, the "disconsolate 
 widow " was withdrawn 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 re- 
 mained in her own house after the loss of " her good man " 
 would have been too hard on '' the lone woman." So said 
 her sister and her brother, though, to judge from the 
 widow's eyes, she was not very heart-broken : she cried as 
 much, no doubt, as young widows generally do after old 
 husbands — and could Kitty be expected to do more? 
 
 She had not been many days in her widowhood, when 
 Biddy asked her to drive into the town, where Biddy had 
 to do a little shopping — that great business of ladies' lives. 
 
 *' Oh, Biddy, dear, I must not go out so soon/' 
 
 " 'Twill do you good, Kitty." 
 
 **I mustn't be seen, you know — 'twouldn'tbe right; and 
 poor dear Flanagan not buried a week !" 
 
 " Sure, who'll see you? We'll go in the covered-car, and 
 draw the curtains 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 do you 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 to yoke in a cart that moment to 
 send a lamb to the town. Biddy vowed she would have a 
 horse, and her brother swore the lamb should be served 
 first, till Biddy made a compromise, and agreed to take 
 the iamb under the seat of the car, and so please all par- 
 ties. 
 
 Matters being thus accommodated, off the ladies set, the 
 lamb tied neck and heels and crammed luider the .^eat, 
 and the curtains of the car ready to be drawn at a moment's
 
 HANDY ANDT. 105 
 
 notice, in case they should meet any one on the road ; for 
 "why should not the poor widow enjoy the fre^li air as 
 they drove along?" About half-way to the town, however, 
 the widow suddenly exclaimed — 
 
 "Biddy, draw the curtains I'^ 
 
 " What's the matter?" says Biddy. 
 
 ''I see him coming after us round a tdm o^ the road!'* 
 and the widow looked so horrified, and plucked at the cur- 
 tains so furiously, that Biddy, who was superstitious, 
 thought nothing but Flanagan's ghost could have pro- 
 duced such an effect; and began to scream and utter holy 
 ejaculations, until the sight of Tom Durfy riding after 
 them showed her the cause of her sister's alarm. 
 
 " If that divil, Tom Durfy, sees me, hell tell it all over 
 the country, he's such a quiz; shove 5^ourself well before 
 the door there, Biddy, that he can't peep into the car. Oh, 
 why did I come out this day! I wish your tongue was cut 
 out, Biddy, that asked me!" 
 
 In the meantime Tom Durfy closed on them fast, and 
 began telegraphing Biddy, who, according to the widow's 
 desire, had shoved herself well before the door. 
 
 "Pull up, Tim, pull up!" said the widow, from the in- 
 side of the car, to the driver, whom she thumped on the 
 back at the same time to impress upon him her meaning; 
 " turn about, and pretend to drive back. We'll let that 
 fellow ride on," said she, quietly, to Biddy. 
 
 Just as this maneuver was executed, up came Tom 
 Durfy. 
 
 "' How are you. Miss Eiley?" said he, as he drew rein. 
 
 " Pretty well, thank you," said Biddy, putting her head 
 and shoulders through the window, while the widow shrunk 
 back into the corner of the car. 
 
 "How very sudden poor Mr. Flanagan's death was! I 
 was quite surprised." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," says Biddy, " I was just taking a little 
 drive; good-bye." 
 
 "I was very much shocked to hear of it," said Tom. 
 
 "'Twas 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, loved cross-purposes dearly, that he determined to
 
 106 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 piifh his conversation further, just because he saw it waa 
 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're not afraid of Btoj^ping in this east wind 
 — colds are very prevalent. Good-bye!" 
 
 Just now the Genius of Farce, who presides so particu- 
 larly over all Irish affairs, put it into the lamb's head to 
 bleat. The sound at first did not strike Tom Durfy as 
 singular, they being near a high hedge, within which it 
 was liliely enough a lamb might bleat; but Biddy, shocked 
 at the thought of Joeing discovered in the fact of making 
 her jaunting-car a market-cart, reddened up to the eyes, 
 while the widow squeezed herself closer into the comer. 
 
 Tom, seeing the increasing embarrassment of Biddy, and 
 her desire to be off, still looulcl talk to her, for the love of 
 mischief. 
 
 '•^I beg your pardon," he continued, " just one moment 
 more. I wanted to ask, was it not apoplexy, for I heard 
 an odd report about the death?" 
 
 *' Oh, yes," says Biddy, "apoplexy — good-bye P 
 " Did he speak at all?" asked Tom. 
 *' Baa!'' says the lamb. 
 
 Tom cocked his ears, Biddy grew redder, and the widow 
 crammed her handkerchief into her mouth to endeavor 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 Tom then suspected whence the sound pro- 
 ceeded. 
 " 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 the lamb's bleat. 
 
 " What is all this?" said Tom, laying hold of the cur- 
 tains with relentless hand, and, spite of Biddy's screams, 
 rudely unveiling the sanctuary of sorrowing "widowhood. 
 Oh! what a sight for the rising — I beg their pardon, the 
 sinking— generation of old gentlemea who taJxe young
 
 HAXDT AXD\. 107 
 
 wires did Tom behold ! There "was the widow lying back 
 in the comer — she who was represented as inconsolable 
 and crying all day — shaking with laughter, the tears, not 
 of sorrow, but irrepressible mirth rolling down a 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 the authorshi]) of the 
 joke, put in a longer and louder '*' Baa — a-a-a ! ! I " 
 
 Tom, with all his devilment, had. good taste enough to 
 feel it was not a scene 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 roars of laughter. 
 
 When, in due course of time, the widow again appeared 
 in company, she and Tom Durfy could never meet without 
 smiling at each other. What a pleasant influence lies in 
 mutual smiles I We love the lij^s which welcome us with- 
 out words. Such sympathetic influence it was that led the 
 widow and Tom to get better and better acquainted, and 
 like each other more and more, until she thought him the 
 pleasantest fellow in the county, and he thought her the 
 handsomest woman: — besides, she had a good fortune. 
 
 The widow, conscious of her charms and her money, did 
 not let Tom, however, lead the quietest life in the world. 
 She hked, with the usual propensity of her sex, occasion- 
 ally to vex the man she loved, and assert her sway over so 
 good-looking a fellow. He. in his turn, played off the 
 widow very well ; and one unfailing source of mirthful rec- 
 onciliation on Tom's part, whenever the widow was angry, 
 and that he wanted to bring her back to good humor, was 
 to steal behind her chair, and coaxingly putting his head 
 over her fair shoulder, to pat her gently on her peachy 
 cheek, and cry ^^ Baa." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Andy was in sad disgrace for so many days with his 
 mother; but, like all mothers, she soon forgave the blun- 
 ders of her son — and indeed mothers are well off who have 
 not more than blunders to forgive. Andy did all in his 
 pow<4r to make himself useful at home, now that he was
 
 108 HAKDY ANDY. 
 
 out of place and dependent on his mother, and got a day's 
 work here and there where he could. Fortunately the 
 season afforded him more emploj^ment than the winter 
 months would have done. But the farmers soon had ail 
 their crops made up, and when Andy could find no work 
 to be paid for, he began to cut the •' scrap o' meadow," as 
 he called it, on a small field of his mother's. Indeed, it 
 was but a "scrap;" for tlie place where it grew was one of 
 those broken bits of ground so common in the vicinity of 
 mountain ranges, where rocks, protruding through the soil, 
 give the notion of a very fine crop of stones. Now, this 
 locality gave to Andy the opportunity of exercising a bit 
 of his characteristic ingenuity ; for when the hay was ready 
 for "cocking," he selected a good thumping rock as the 
 foundation for his haystack, and the superstructure con- 
 sequently cut a more respectable figure than one could have 
 anticipated from the appearance of the little crop as it lay 
 on the ground; and as no vestige of the rock was visible, 
 the widow, when she came out to see the work completed, 
 wondered and rejoiced at the size of the haystack, and 
 said, " God bless you, Andy, but you're the natest hand for 
 putting up a bit o' hay I ever seen; throth I didn't think 
 there was the half of it in it!" Little did the widow know 
 that the cock of hay was as great a cheat as a bottle of 
 champagne — more than half bottom. It was all very well 
 for the widow to admire her hay; but at last she came to 
 sell it, and such sales are generally effected in Ireland by 
 the purchaser buying "in the lump," as it is called, that 
 is, calculating the value of the hay from the appearance 
 of the stack as it stands, and drawing it away upon his 
 own cars. Now, as luck would have it, it was Andy's early 
 acquaintance, Owny na Coppal, bought the hay; and in 
 consideration of the lone tvoman, gave her as good a price 
 as he could afford — for Owny was an honest, open-hearted 
 follow, though he was a horse-dealer; so he paid the widow 
 the price of her hay on 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 when they came to take the haystack to 
 pieces, the solidity of its center astonished them — and in- 
 stead of the cars going back loaded, two liad their journey 
 for nothing and went home empty. Previously to his men 
 leavmg the widow's field, they spoke to her on the subject. 
 
 \
 
 HANDY ANDY. 109 
 
 and said, " Ton my conscience, ma'am, the center o' your 
 haystack M^as mighty heavy." 
 
 "Oh, indeed, it^s powerful hay!" said she. 
 
 " Maybe so," said they; " but there's not much nourish- 
 ment in that part of it. " 
 
 " Not finer liay in Ireland!" said she. 
 
 " What's of it ma'am," said they. " Faix, we think Mr. 
 Doyle will be talkin' to you about it." And they were 
 quite right; for Owny became indignant at being over- 
 reached, as he thought, and lost no time in going to the 
 widow to tell her so. When he arrived at her cabin, Andy 
 happened to be in the house; and when the widow raised 
 her voice through the storm of Owny's rage, in protesta- 
 tions that she knew nothing abont it, but that " Andy, the 
 darlin', put the cock up with his own 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 honor of 
 a conversation since the memorable 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 -hand kill one 
 o' my horses, without plottin' to cliate the rest o' them?" 
 
 " Is it me chate them?" said Andy. " Throth, I wouldn't 
 wrong a dumb 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 a rock wid hav, and sellin' it as the rale 
 thing?" 
 
 " 'Twas Andv done it, Mr. Doyle; hand, act, or part I 
 hadn't in it." 
 
 " Why, then, arn't you ashamed o' yourself?" said Owny 
 Doyle, addressing Andy. 
 
 " Why should 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 for it." 
 
 " Oh! do you hear this?" shouted Owny, nearly provoked 
 io take the worth of his money out of Andy's ribs.
 
 110 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 ''Yes, I say a blessed example." said Andy. ''Sure, 
 didn^t the blessed Saint Peter build his church upon a rock? 
 And why shouldn't I build my cock o' hay on a rock?'' 
 
 Owny, with all his rage, could not help laughing at the 
 ridiculous conceit. "By this and that, Andy/' said he, 
 "you're always sayin' or doin' the quarest things in the 
 counthry, bad cess to you !" So he laid his whij) upon his 
 little hack instead of Andy, and galloped off. 
 
 Andy went over the next day to the neighboring town, 
 where Owny Do3de kejit a little inn and a couple of post- 
 chaises (such as they were), and expressed much sorrow 
 that Owny had been deceived by the appearance of tlie hay; 
 "but 111 pay you the differ out o' my wages, Misther Doyle 
 — in throth I will — that is, whenever I have any wages to 
 get: for the Squire turned me off, you see, and I'm out of 
 place at this present." 
 
 " Oh, never mind it," said Owny. " Sure, it was the 
 widow woman got the money, and I don't begrudge it; and 
 now that it's all past and gone, I forgive you. But tell 
 me, Andy, what put such a quare thing into your head?" 
 
 "Why, you see," said Andy, "I didn't like the poor 
 mother's pride should be let down in the eyes o' the neigh- 
 bors; and so I made tlie weeshy bit o' hay look as dacent as 
 I could — but, at the same time, I wouldn't chate any one 
 for the world, Misther Doyle." 
 
 "Throth, I b'lieve you wouldn't, Andy; but, 'pon my 
 sowl, the next time I 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 
 thtt air of satisfaction which men so commonly assume 
 after fancying they have said a good thing, when Andy in- 
 terrupted his retreat by an interjectional " Misther Doyle ?'^ 
 
 " Well," said Owny, looking over his shoulder. 
 
 ^'I was thiukin', sir," said Andy. 
 
 " For the first time in your life, I b'lieve," said Owny; 
 " and what was it you wor thinkin'?" 
 
 "I was thinkin' o' drivin' 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? Ko, no, faix, 
 I'm afeer'd o' you, Andy. " 
 
 "Xot a boy in Ireland knows dhrivin' betther nor me, 
 any wny/' gaid Andy,
 
 HANDY ANDY. Ill 
 
 "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 postboy, Andy— I have Micky Doolan 
 and his brother Pether, and them's enough for me.'' 
 
 '■Maybe you'd be wan tin' a helper in the stable, Misther 
 Doyle ?'^ 
 
 '"' No, Andy ; but the first time I want to make hay to 
 advantage, I'll send for you," said Owny, laugliing, as he 
 entered his house, aud nodding to Andy, who returned a 
 capacious grin to Ovny's shrewd smile, like the exaggerat- 
 ed reflection of a concave mirror. But the grin soon sub- 
 sided, for men seldom prolong the laugh that is raised at 
 their own expense; and the corners of Andy's mouth turned 
 down as his hand turned up to the back of his head, which 
 he rubbed, as he sauntered down the street from Owny 
 Doyle's. 
 
 It was some miles to Andy's home, and night overtook 
 him on the way. As he trudged along in the middle of 
 the road he was looking up at a waning moon and some 
 few stars twinkling through the gloom, absorbed in many 
 sublime thoughts is to their existence, and wondering what 
 they were made of; when his cogitations were cut short by 
 tumbling over something Avhich lay in the middle of the 
 highway; and on scrambhng to his legs again, and seeking 
 to investigate the cause of his fall he was rather surprised 
 to find a man lying in such a state of insensibility that all 
 Andy's efforts could not rouse him. While standing over 
 him," undecided as to what he should do, the sound of ap- 
 proaching wheels, and the rapid steps of galloping horses, 
 attracted his attention; and it became evident that unless 
 the chaise and pair which he now saw in advance were 
 brought to pull up, the cares of the man in the middle of 
 the road would be very soon over. Andy shouted lustily, 
 but to his every '' Halloo there!" the crack of the whip re- 
 plied, and accelerated speed instead of a halt was the con- 
 sequence; at last, in desperation, Andy planted himself in 
 the middle of the road, and with outspread arms before the 
 horses, succeeded in arrestmg their progress, while he 
 ghouted '' Stop," at the top of his voice. 
 
 A pistol-shot from the chaise was the consequence ot 
 Andy's summons, for a certain Mr. Furlong, a foppish 
 young gentleman, traveling from the castle of Dublin 
 never dreamed that a humane purpose could produce the
 
 112 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 cry of "Stop," on a liorrid Irish road; and as he was 
 reared in the ridiculous belief that every man ran a great 
 risk of his life who ventured outside the city of iJubiin, he 
 traveled with a brace of loaded pistols beside him; and as 
 he had been anticipating murder and robbery e>ver since 
 night-fall, he did not wait the demand for his "' money or his 
 life " to defend both, but fired away the instant he heard 
 the word ''Stop!" and fortunate it was for Andy that the 
 traveler's hurry impaired his aim. Before he could dis- 
 charge a second pistol, Andy hatl screened himself under 
 the horses' heads; and recognizing in the postilion his 
 friend Micky Doolin, he shouted out " Micky, jewel, don't 
 let them be shootin' me!" 
 
 Now Micky's cares were quite enough engaged on his 
 own account; for the first pistol-shot made the horses 
 plunge violently, and the second time Furlong blazed away 
 set the saddle-horse kicking at such a rate, that all Micky's 
 horsemanship was required to preserve his seat; added to 
 which the dread of being shot came over him, and he 
 crouched low on the gray's neck, holding fast by the mane, 
 and shouting for mercy as well as Andy, who still kept 
 roaring to Mick, '• not to let them be shootin' him," while 
 he held his hat above him, in the fashion of a shield, 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 as the phrase ''his life " seemed a personal 
 threat to himself, he swore a trembling oath at the postil- 
 ion that he would shoot him if he did not ilwire on, for he 
 abjured the use of that rough letter, E, which the Irish so 
 much rejoice in. " Dwive on, you wascal, dwive on!" ex- 
 claimed Mr. Furlong. 
 
 "There's no fear o' you. sir," said Mick}-, "it's a friend 
 o* my own." 
 
 Mr. Furlong was not quite satisfied that he was therefore 
 the safer. 
 
 " .And what is it all, Andy?" continued Mick. 
 
 " I tell you there's a man lying dead in the road here, 
 JUki sure j---r'll kill him, if you dhrive over him."
 
 HANDY AXDT. 113 
 
 *' How could I kill him auy more thau lie is kilt,'* says 
 Mick, •' if he's dead already?'^ 
 
 •-'Well, no matther for that," says And}'. "Light off 
 your horse, will you, aud help me to rise him?" 
 
 Mick dismounted, and assisted Andy in lifting the pros- 
 trate man from the center 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; but that he should 
 still sleep seemed astonishing, considering the quantity of 
 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, aud he'll spake. " 
 
 To a fresh shaking the drunken man at last gave some 
 tokens of returning consciousness, by making several wind- 
 ing blows at his benefactors, and uttering some haK-intelli- 
 gent maledictions. 
 
 " Bad luck to you, do you know where you are?" said 
 Mick. 
 
 " Well I" was the drunken ejaculation. 
 
 "By this aud that, it's my brother Pether," said Mick. 
 " We wondhered what had "kept him so late with the re- 
 turn shay, and this is the way it is. 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. Fur- 
 long, putting his head out of the chaise. 
 
 '* It's one on the road here, your honor, 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." 
 
 *' Yorir bwother I — 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 aud lave my brother 
 here on the road." 
 
 "You rascally wapj^awee!" exclaimed Furlong. 
 
 " See, Andy," said Micky Doolan; " will you get up and 
 dhrive him, while I 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 haste back^ and 111 dhrive Pether hojne. "
 
 114 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 Andy raounted into Mick's saddle; and although the 
 traveler "pwotested' against it, and threatened *' pwo- 
 ceedings " and " magistrates," Mick was unmoved in his 
 brotherly love. As a last remonstrance. Furlong ex- 
 claimed, "And pwehaps this fellow can't wide, and don't 
 know the woad." 
 
 *' Is it not know the road to the Squire's? — wow! wow!'* 
 said Andy. ''It's I that'll rattle you there in no time, 
 your honor. " 
 
 ''Well, wattle away then!" said the enraged traveler, as 
 he threw himself back in the chaise, cursing all the postil- 
 lions in Ireland. 
 
 Now, it was to Squire 'Grady's that Mr. Furlong want- 
 ed to go; but in the confusion of the moment the name of 
 O'Grady never once was mentioned ; and with the title of 
 "Squire," Andy never associated another idea than that of 
 his late master, Mr. Egan. 
 
 Mr. Furlong, it has been stated, was an ofBcial of Dub- 
 lin Castle, and had been dispatched on electioneering busi- 
 ness to the country. He was related to a gentleman of the 
 same name who held a lucrative post under goverumeiit, 
 and was well known as an active agent in all affairs requir- 
 ing what in Ireland was called " Castle influence;" and this, 
 his relative, was now dispatched, for the first time, on a 
 similar employment. By the way, while his name is before 
 one, a little anecdote may be appropriately introduced, 
 illustrative of the wild waggery prevailing in the streets of 
 Dublin in those days. 
 
 Those days were the good old days of true virtue! "When 
 a bishop who had daughters to marry, would advance a de- 
 serving young curate to a good living, and, not content 
 with that manifestation of his regard, would give him 07u 
 of his 02i'7i childreji for a wife! Those were the days when, 
 the coimtry being in danger, fathers were willing to sacri- 
 fice, not only their sons, but their daughters on the altar 
 of patriotism! Do you doubt it, unbelieving and selfish 
 creatures of these degenerate times? Listen! A certain 
 father waited upon the Irish Secretary, one fine morning, 
 and in that peculiar strain which secretaries of state must 
 be pretty well used to, descanted at some length on the de- 
 votion he had always shown to the government, and yet 
 tJjey Jiad given him no proof of their confidence. The See-
 
 HANDY ANPY. 115 
 
 retarv declared fliey had the highest sense of his merits, 
 and tliat they had given him their entire confidence. 
 
 " But you have given me notliing else, my lord," was the 
 answer. 
 
 ''My dear sir, of late we have not had any proof of sufR- 
 cient weight in our gift to convince j'ou. '*' 
 
 "Oh, I beg your pardon, my lord; there's a majority of 
 the dragoons vacant.''" 
 
 "Very true, my dear sir: and if you had a cliild to de- 
 vote to the service of your country, no one should have the 
 majority sooner." 
 
 " Thank you, my lord," said the worthy man with a low 
 bow; " then I luive 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 you forget, sir — this is a regiment — a dra- 
 goon 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 the country is iji danger? I'm ready to 
 .-■acrifice my daughter," said the heroic man, with an air 
 worthy of Virginius. 
 
 "My dear sir, this is really impossible; you hnoiv it's 
 impossible. " 
 
 " I know no such thing, my lord. But 111 tell you what 
 I know; there's a 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 with vehement friendshijj, "why place us in this 
 dreadful difficulty? It would be impossible even to draw 
 up the commission; fancy ' Major Maria,' or * Major Mar- 
 .jeryT 
 
 " Oh, my lord," said the father quickly, " I have fancied 
 all that long ago, and got a cure ready for it. My wife not 
 having been blessed Avith boys, we thought it wise to make 
 the girls ready for any chance that might turn up, and so 
 we christenal the eldest George, the second Jack, and the 
 third Tom; which enables us to call them Georgina, Jac- 
 queline, and Thomasine, in company, while the secret of 
 fneir real names rests between ourselves and the parish 
 J agister, Jfow^ my }ord, what do you say? I have George,
 
 116 HANDT ANDY. 
 
 .Tuckj and Tom — think of your hill." The argument was 
 conclusive,, and the patriotic man got the majority of a 
 cavalry corps, with perpetual leave of absence, for his 
 daughter Jack, who would much rather have joined the 
 regiment. 
 
 Such were the dciys in which our Furlong flourished; and 
 in such days it will not be wondered at that a Secretary, 
 when he had no place to give away, invented one. The old 
 saying has it, that "' Necessity is the mother of invention;" 
 but an Irish Secretary can beat necessity hollow. For ex- 
 ample — 
 
 A commission was issued, with a handsome salary tfl 
 the commissioner, to make a measurement through all the 
 streets of Dublin, ascertaining the exact distances from the 
 Castle, from a furlong upward; and for many a year did 
 the commission work, inserting handsome stone slabs into 
 the walls of most ignorant houses, till then unconscious of 
 their precise proximity or remoteness from the seat of gov- 
 ernment. Ever after that, if you saw some portly build- 
 ing, blushing in the jiride of red brick and perfumed with 
 fresh paint, and saw the tablet recording the interesting 
 fact thus — 
 
 FROM THE CASTLE, 
 ONE FUKLONG. 
 
 Fancy might suggest that the house rejoiced, as it were, in 
 an honored jjosition, and did 
 
 — " look so fine, and smell so sweet," 
 
 because it was under the nose of viceroyalty, while the sub- 
 urbs revealed poor tatterdemalion tenements, dropping 
 their slates like tears, and uttering their hollow sighs 
 through empty casements, merely because they were " one 
 mile two furlongs from the Castle." But the new stone 
 tablet which told you so seemed to mock their misery, and 
 looked like a fresh stab into their poor old sides; as if the 
 rapier of a king had killed a beggar. 
 
 This very original measure of measurement was provo- 
 cative of ridicule or indignation, as the wipatient might
 
 HAXDY ANDY. 11 T 
 
 happen to be infected; but while the affair was in full blow^ 
 Mr. Furlong, who was the commissioner, while walkijig in 
 Sackville Street one day, had a goodly sheet of paper 
 pinned 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 won- 
 dered, at the shouts of laughter ringing behind him, and 
 turned round occasionally to see the cause; but ever as lie 
 turned, faces were screwed up into seriousness, while the 
 laughter rang again in his rear. Furlong was bewildered, 
 and much as he was used to the mirthfulness of an Irish 
 populace, he certainly did wonder what fiend of fun pos- 
 sessed them that day, until the hall jjorter of the secretary's 
 office solved the enigma by respectfully asking would he 
 not take the placard from his back before he presented 
 himself. The Mister Furlong who is engaged in our story 
 was the nephew of the man of measurement memory; and 
 his mother, a vulgar woman, sent her son to England to 
 be educated, that he might ''pick up the ax'nt; 'twas so 
 jinteel, the Inglish ax'nt!" And, accordingly, the youth 
 endeavored all he could to become «w-Irish in everything, 
 and was taught to believe that all the virtue and wisdom 
 in Ireland was vested in the Castle and hangers-on thereof^ 
 and that the mere people were worse than savages. 
 
 With such feelings it was this English Irishman, em- 
 ployed to open negotiations between the government and 
 Squire O'Grady, visited the wilds of Ireland; and the cir- 
 cumstances attendant on the stopping of the chaise afford- 
 ed the peculiar genius of Handy Andy an opportunity of 
 making a glorious confusion, by driving the political enemy 
 of the sitting memher into his house, where, by a curious 
 coincidence, a strange gentleman was expected every day 
 on a short visit. After Andv had driven some time, he
 
 138 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 turned round and spoke to Mr. Furlong, tlirough the pane 
 of glass with which the front window-frame of the chaise 
 was not furnished. 
 
 "Faix, you wor nigh shootin' me, your honor," said 
 Andy. 
 
 "' I should not wepwoach myself, if I had," said Mr. 
 Furlong, " when you quied stop on the woad: wobbers al- 
 ways qui stop, and I took you for a wobber. " 
 
 "Faix, the robbers here, your honor, never axes you to 
 stop at all, but they stop you without axiu', 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 bw^other." 
 
 " Yis, your honor, and he's a postilion himself — only he 
 lost his horses and the shay — ^he got dhrunk, and fell off. " 
 
 " Q'hose wascally postilions often get dwunk, I suppose?" 
 
 " Oh, common enough, sir, particular now about the 
 'lection time; for the gentlemin is dhrivin' over the coun- 
 try like mad, right and left, and gives the boys money to 
 dhrink their health, till they are killed a most with the 
 falls they get. " 
 
 " Then postilions often fall on the woads here?" 
 
 *'Throth, the roads is covered with them sometimes, 
 when the 'lections comes an. " 
 
 " What howwid immowality ! I hoj)e you're not dwunk?" 
 
 ''Faix, I wish I was I" said Andy. "It's a great while 
 eince I had a dhrop; but it won't be long so, when your 
 honor gives me something to dhrink your health. " 
 
 "Well, don't talk, but dwive on." 
 
 All Andy's further endeavors to get "his honor" into 
 conversation were unavailing; so he whipped on in silence 
 till his arrival at the gate-house of Merry vale demanded hia 
 call for entrance. 
 
 " What are you shouting there for?" said the traveler; 
 *' cawn't you wing?" 
 
 " Oh, they understand the shillno as well, sir;" and in 
 confirmation of Andy's assurance, the bars of the entrance 
 gates were withdrawn, and the post-chaise rattled up the 
 avenue to the house. 
 
 Andy alighted, and gave a thundering tantara-ra at the
 
 HAIS^DT ANDY. 119 
 
 door. The servant who opened it was surprised at the 
 sight of Andy, and could not repress a shout of wonder. 
 Here Dick Dawson came into the hall, and seeing Andy at 
 the door, gave a loud halloo, and clapped his hands in 
 delight — for he had not seen him since the day of the 
 chase. 
 
 "An' is it there you are again, you unlucky vagabone?'* 
 said Dick; ''and what brings you here?" 
 
 " I come with a jintleman to the masther, MistheT 
 Dick.'' 
 
 " Oh, it's the visitor, I suppose," said Dick, as he him- 
 self went out, with that unceremonious readiness so charac- 
 teristic of tlie wild fellow he was, to ojjen the door of the 
 chaise for his brother-in-law's guest. 
 
 " You're welcome," said Dick; " come, step in — the serv- 
 ants will look to your luggage. James, get in Mr. , I 
 
 beg your pardon, but 'pon my soul, I forget your name, 
 though Moriarty told me." 
 
 **' Mr. Furlong," gently uttered the youth. 
 
 " Get in the luggage, James. Come, sir, walk into the 
 dinner-room: we haven't finished our wme yet." With 
 these words Dick ushered in Furlong to the apartment 
 where Squire Egan sat, who rose as they entered. " Mr. 
 Furlong, Ned," said Dick. 
 
 " Happy to see you, Mr. Furlong," said the hearty Squire, 
 who shook Furlong's hand in what Furlong considered a 
 most savage manner. " You seem fatigued?" 
 
 " Vewy," was the languid reply of the traveler, as he 
 threw himself into a chair. 
 
 "Eing the bell for more claret, Dick," said Squira 
 Egan. 
 
 *' I neveh dwink." 
 
 Dick and the Squire both looked at him with amazement, 
 for in the friend of Moriarty they expected to find a hearty 
 fellow. 
 
 " A cool bottle wouldn't do a child any harm," said the 
 Squire. "King, 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 — m 
 ftbort there are so many wagg."
 
 120 HAK^DY A??DT. 
 
 "Oh, there are wags enough, I grant; not funnier devils 
 in the world."' 
 
 "But I mean 2vags — tatters, I mean." 
 
 " Oh, rags. Oh, yes — why, indeed, theyVe not much 
 clothes to spare. " 
 
 "And yet these wretches 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 wal- 
 ly at the hustings. These Iwisli have no idea of tactics; 
 we'll intwoduce the English mode — take them by supwise 
 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 was always about liim, saw how the land 
 lay in an instant, and making a signal to his brother-in- 
 law, chimed in with an immediate assent to Furlong's as- 
 sertion, and swore that Egan would be unseated to a cer- 
 tainty. " Come, sir," added Dick, "' fill one bumper at 
 least to a toast 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 hvisli are so wild — so unculti- 
 vated," continued he; "youll see how Fll supwise them 
 with some of my plans. " 
 
 "Oh, they're poor ignorant brutes," said Dick, "that 
 know nothing: a man of the world like you would buy and 
 sell them." 
 
 "You see, they've no finesse: they have a certain de- 
 ^wee of weadiness, but no depth — no weal finesse." 
 
 " Not as much as would physic a snipe," said Dick, who 
 swallowed a glass of claret to conceal a smile. 
 
 "What's that you say about snipes and physic?" said 
 Furlong; "what queer things you /wish do say." 
 
 "Oh, we've plenty o' queer fellows here," said Dick; 
 "but you are not taking your claret.'' 
 
 "The twuth is, I am fatigued — vewy — and if you'd al- 
 low me, Mr. O'Gwady, I should like to go to my woom, 
 we'll talk over business to-mowwow."
 
 HANDY ANDY. 121 
 
 " Certainly/* said the Squire, who was glad to get rid of 
 him, for the scene was becoming too much for his gravity. 
 So Dick Dawson lighted I'urlong to his room, and after 
 heaping civilities upon him, left him to sleep in the camp 
 of his enemies, and then returned to the dining-room, to 
 enjoy with the >Squire the laugh they were so long obhged 
 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 hme-kilu, " said Dick, "and 
 then send him off to O'Grady — all's fair in war." 
 
 "To be sure," said the Squire. "Unseat me, indeed! 
 He was near it, sure enough, for I thought I'd have dropped 
 off my chair with surprise when he said it. " 
 
 " And the conceit and impudence of the fellow," said 
 Dick. "The ignorant I wish — nothing will serve him but 
 abusing his own countrymen I ' The ignorant Irish I' — 
 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 I" 
 
 " Faith, he has brought his pigs to a pretty market 
 here," said the Squire; "but how did he come here? how- 
 was the mistake made?" 
 
 "The way every mistake in the country is made," said 
 Dick. " Handy Andy drove him here. " 
 
 " More power to you, Andy," said the Squire. "' Come, 
 Dick, we'll drink Andy's health. This is a mistake on 
 the right side. " 
 
 And Andy's health was drunk, as well as several other 
 healths. In short, the Squire and Dick the Devil were in 
 high glee — the dining-room rang with laughter to a late 
 hour; and the next morning a great many empty claret 
 bottles were on the table, and a few on the floor. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Notwithstanding the deep potations of the Squire and 
 Dick Dawson the night before, both were too much excited 
 by the arrival of Furlong to permit their being laggards in 
 the morning; they were up and in consultation at an early 
 hour, for the purpose of carrying on prosperously the 
 mystification so well begun on the Castle agent.
 
 122 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 "Now, first of all, Dick," said the Squire, "is it fair, 
 do you think?" 
 
 "Fair!" said Dick, opening his eyes in astonishment. 
 " Why, who ever heard of any one questioning anything 
 being fair in love or war, or electioneering? To be sure, 
 it's fair — and more particularly when the conceited cox« 
 comb has been telling us how he'll astonish with his 
 plans the poor ignorant Irish, whom he holds in such con- 
 tempt. Now, let me alone, and 111 get all his plans out 
 of him, turn him inside out like a glove, pump him as dry 
 as a pond in the summer, squeeze him like a lemon — and 
 let him see whether the poor ignorant livish, as he softly 
 calls us, are not an overmatch for him at the finesse upon 
 which he seems so much to pride himself. " 
 
 "Egad! I believe you're right, Dick," said the Squire, 
 whose qualms were quite overcome by the argument last 
 advanced; for if one thing more than another provoked 
 him, it was the impertinent self-conceit of presuming and 
 shallow strangers, who fancied their hackneyed and cut- 
 and-dry knowledge of the commonplaces of the world gave 
 them a mental elevation above an intelligent people of 
 primitive habits, whose simplicity of life is so often set 
 down to stupidity, whose contentment under privation is 
 frequently attributed to laziness, and whose poverty is con- 
 stantly coupled with the epithet "ignorant." "A poor, ig- 
 norant creature," indeed, is a common term of reproach, as 
 if poverty and ignorance must be inseparable. If a list could 
 be obtained of the rich ignorant people, it w^ould be no flat- 
 tering document to stick'on the door of the temple of Mam- 
 mon. 
 
 "Well, Ned," said Dick, "as you agree to do the En- 
 ghshman. Murphy will be a grand help to us; it is the very 
 thing he will have his heart m. Murtough will be worth 
 his weight in gold to us; I wall ride over to him and 
 bring him back with me to spend the day here; and you, 
 in the meantime, can put every one about the house on 
 their guard not to spoil the fun by letting the cat out of 
 the bag too soon; we'll aliake her ourselves in good time, 
 and maybe we won't have no fun in the hunt!" 
 
 " You're right, Dick. Murphy is the very man for our 
 money. Do you be off for him, and I will take care that 
 all shall be right at home here. " 
 
 In ten minutes more Dick was in the saddle, and riding
 
 HANDY AKDT. 123 
 
 hard for Murtough Murpliy\s. A good horse and a sharp pair 
 of spurs were not long in placing him vis-a-ois with the 
 merry attorney, whom he found in his stable-yard up to 
 his ej-es in business with some ragged coimtry fellows, ' 
 the majority of whom were loud in vociferating their 
 praises of certain dogs; while Murtough drew from one 
 of thenx, from time to time, a solemn assurance, given 
 with many signiticant shakes of the head, and uplifting of 
 hands and eyes, **that was the finest badger in the world!" 
 Murtough turned his head on hearing the rattle of the 
 horse's feet, as Dick the Devil dashed into the stable-yard, 
 and with a view-halloo welcomed him. 
 
 "•You're just in time, Dick. By the powers! well have 
 the finest day's sjiort 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 3'ou." He 
 then told them of the accident that conveyed their political 
 enemy into their toils; '^' and the beauty of it is," said 
 Dick, "that he has not the remotest suspicion of the con- 
 dition he's in, and fancies himself able to buy and sell all 
 Ireland, horse-dealers and attorneys included." 
 
 "That's elegant!" said Murphy. 
 
 " He's come to enlighten us, Murtough," said Dick. 
 
 " And maybe Ave won't return the compliment," said 
 Murtough. "Just let me put on my boots. Hilloa, you 
 Larry! saddle the gray. Don't you cut the pup's ears till 
 I come home! aiid if Mr. Ferguson sends over for the draft 
 of the lease, tell him it won't be ready till to-morrow. 
 Molly! Molly! Avhere are you, you old divil? Sew on that 
 button for me — I forgot to 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, you 
 old 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 Ave can do nothing regular in Ireland.* 
 
 On his arrival at Merryvale and hearing hoAV matters 
 stood, Murtough Murphy was in a perfect agony of delight 
 in anticipating the mystification of the kidnapped agent. 
 Dick's intention had been to take him along with them on 
 their ca,nvass, and openly engage him in all their electioa-
 
 124 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 Bering; movements; but to this Murphy objected, as run- 
 ning too great a risk of discovery. He recommended rather 
 *o engage Furlong in amusements which would detain him 
 from 'Grady and his party, and gain time for their side; 
 and get out of him all the electioneering plot of the other 
 party, iiidireetly; but to have as little real electioneering 
 Dusi.iess as possible. " If you do, Dick," said Murphy, 
 *Hake my word, we shall betray ourselves somehow or 
 other — he could not be so soft, as not to see it; but let us be 
 content to amuse him with all sorts of absurd stories of Ire- 
 land — and the Irish — tell him magnificent lies — astonish 
 him with grand materials for a note-book, and work him 
 up to publish — that's the plan, sir I" 
 
 The three consj^irators now joined the family party, 
 which had just sat down to breakfast; Dick, in his own 
 jolly way, hoped Furlong had slept well. 
 
 " Vewy," said Furlong, as he sipped his tea with an air of 
 peculiar nonchalance which was meant to fascinate Fanny 
 Dawson, who, Avhen Furlong addressed to her his first silly 
 commonplace with his peculiar 7?on-pronunciation of the 
 letter E, established a lisp directly, and it was as much as 
 her sister, Mrs. Egan, could do to keep her countenance, 
 as Fanny went on slaughtering the S's as fa^ as Furlong 
 ruined R's. 
 
 " 111 twouble you for a little mo' queam," said he, hold- 
 ing forth his cup and saucer with an affected air. 
 
 " Perhapth you'd like thum more theugar," lisped Fanny, 
 lifting the sugar-tongs with an exquisite curl of her little 
 finger. 
 
 " I'm glad to hear you slept well," said Dick to Fur- 
 long. 
 
 ''To be sure he slept well," said Murphy; "this is the 
 sleepiest air in the world. " 
 
 ** The sleepiest air?" returned Furlong, somewhat sur- 
 prised. '' That is vewy odd." 
 
 •'Not at all, sir," said Murphy; ''well-known fact. 
 "VMien I first came to this part of the country, I used to 
 sleep for two days together sometimes. Whenever I wanted 
 to rise early, I was always obliged to get up the night be- 
 fore. " 
 
 Thie was said by the brazen attorney, from his seat at a 
 side-table, which was amply provided with a large dish of 
 b(^iled potatoes, capacious jugs of milk, a quantity of cold
 
 HAXDY ANDY. 125 
 
 meat and game. Murphy bad his mouth half filled with 
 potatoes as he spoke, aud swallowed a large draught of 
 milk as the stranger swallowed Murphy's lie. 
 
 " You don't eat potatoes, I perceive, sir?" said Murphy. 
 
 "Not for bweakfast/' said Furlong. 
 
 *'Doyou for thupper?" said Fanny. 
 
 " Never in England,'' he rejilied. 
 
 *' Finest things in the world, sir, for the intellect,' said 
 Murphy. " I attribute the natural intelligence of the Irish 
 entirely to their eating them. " 
 
 "Oh, they are thometimes thothleepy at the Cathtle," 
 eaid Fanny. 
 
 " Woally!" said the exquisite, with the utmost simplicity. 
 
 "Fanny is very provoking, Mr. Furlong," said Mrs. 
 Egan, who was obliged to say something with a smile, to 
 avoid the laugh which continued silence would have forced 
 upon her. 
 
 **'0h, no I" said the dandy, looking tenderly at Fanny; 
 " only vewy agweable — fond of a little wepa'tee." 
 
 " They call me thatirical here," said Fanny, "' only 
 fanthyl" and she cast down her eyes with an' exquisite 
 affectation of innocence. 
 
 " By the bye, when does your post awive here — the mail 
 I mean?" said Furlong. 
 
 *' 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 I" said the Squire; "the boy takes anv 
 letters that may be for the post the following morning, as 
 he goes to the town to look for letters. " 
 
 " 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 the Squire's answer; so he pushed him with a few moi-e 
 questions. In reply to one of the last, the Squire repre- 
 sented that the jwstboy was saved going twice a day by the 
 present arrangement. 
 
 " Ay, but you lose a post, my dear sir," said Furlong, 
 who still clung with pertinacity to the fitness of saving "a 
 post. " Don't you see that you might weceive your letter
 
 126 HANDY AXDT. 
 
 at half-past ten; well, then you'll have a full hour to wit<j 
 you' answer; that's quite enough time, I should think, for 
 you wetu'ning an answer. " 
 
 *' But, my dear sir," said Murtough Murphy, '' our grand 
 object in Ireland is 7iot to answer letters. " 
 
 " Oh! — ah !— hum !— hideed ! — well, that's odd; hoYfveicy 
 odd you Iwish are!" 
 
 *•' 8ure, that's what makes us such pleasant fellows," 
 said Murtough, "■ If we were like the rest of the world, 
 there would be nothing remarkable about 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 our election business?" 
 
 " Oh, hang business to-day!" said Murphy; "let's have 
 some fishing: I'll show you such salmon-iishing 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 would be a wema'kably close contest, and 
 we have no time to lose; I should think — with submis- 
 sion — " 
 
 " My dear sir," said Murphy, "we'll beat them hollow; 
 our canvass has been most prosperous; there's only oTie 
 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 of his head and a sagacious wink. '• We'll 
 spend money too. We're pwepawed for that: plenty of 
 money will be advanced, for the gov'nment is weally anx- 
 ious that Mr. Scatte'bwain should come in." 
 
 " Oh, then, all's right?" said Murphy. " But — whisper 
 — Mr. Furlong — be cautious how you mention money, for 
 there are sharp fellows about liere, and there's no knowing 
 how the wind of the word miglit put the other party on 
 their guard, and, may be, help to unseat our man upon a 
 petition." 
 
 "Oh, let me alone," said Furlong. "I know a twick
 
 HANDY ANDT. 127 
 
 too many for that; let them catch me betwaying a secwet! 
 No, no — leather too sharp for that!" 
 
 " Oh, don't suppose, my dear sir," said Murphy, *' that 
 I doubt your caution for a moment. I see, sir, in the 
 twinkling of an eye, a man's character — always did — always 
 could, since I was the height o' that;" and Murphy 
 stooped down and extended his hand about two feet above 
 the floor, while he looked up in the face of the man he 
 was humbugging with the most unblushing impudence — 
 " since I was the height o' that, sir, I had a natural quick- 
 ness for discerning character; and I see you're a young 
 gentleman of superior acuteness and discretion; but, at the 
 same time, don't be angry with me for just hinting to you, 
 
 that some of these Irish chaps are d d rogues. I beg your 
 
 pardon, Mrs. O'Grady, for saying d d before a lady;" and 
 
 he made a low bow to Mrs. Egan, who was obliged to 
 leave the room to hide her laughter. 
 
 '' Now," said Furlong, " suppose befo'e the opening of 
 the poll, we should pwopose, as it were, with a view to 
 save time, that the bwibery oath should not be adminis- 
 te'd on either side." 
 
 " That's an elegant idea!" said Murjjhy. ''By the wig 
 o' the chief justice — and that's a big oath — ^you're a janius, 
 Misther Furlong, and I admire you. Sir, you're worth 
 your weight in gold to us!" 
 
 " Oh, you flatte'me! — weally," said Furlong, with af- 
 fected modesty, while he ran his fingers through his Ma- 
 cassar-oiled ringlets. 
 
 " Well, now for a start to the river, and won't we have 
 Bport! You English-taught gentlemen have only one fault 
 on the face of the earth — you're too fond of business — you 
 make yourselves slaves to propriety — 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; "' the genuine home-bred Paddy makes time 
 for fun sooner than anything else — we take 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 jaore churclies nor ojie,' says he^ and that's tb^
 
 128 HANDT ANDY. 
 
 way with us." said Murphy. " Come, Dick, get the fish 
 ing-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, smiling at Murphy, as if he had caught him in say- 
 ing something absurd. 
 
 '*Ah, you rogue," said Murphy, affecting to be hit; 
 •'you're too sharp for us poor Irish fellows; but you know 
 the old saying, 'An Irishman has leave to speak twice;' 
 but, after all, it's no great mistake I've made; for Avhen I 
 say we fish for salmon with a line, I mean we don't use 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 unabashed impudence. ''Have not all nations 
 habits and customs peculiar to themselves? Don't the En- 
 ghsh catch their fish by striking them under water with a 
 long rough stick, and a little curwhibble of a bone at the 
 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 for salmon, strikes me as vewy singular." 
 
 " Well, sir, the older we grow the more we learn. You'll 
 see what fine sport it is; but don't lose any more time: let 
 us be off to the river at once. " 
 
 " I'll make a slight change in my dwess, if you please — 
 I'll be down immediately;" and Furlong left the room. 
 
 During his absence, the Squire, Dick, and Murphy en- 
 joyed a hearty laugh, and ran over the future proceedings 
 of the day. 
 
 '* But what do you mean by this salmon-fisliing, Mur- 
 phy?" said Dick; "you know there never was a salmon in 
 the river." 
 
 '' But there will be to-day," said Murphy; '' and a mag- 
 nificent gudgeon will see him caught. What a spoon 
 that fellow is! — we've got the bribery 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 con- 
 ceited about his talent for business, that lie will be talking
 
 HAKDY ANDY. 129 
 
 of it without our pushing him : just give him rope enough- 
 and he'd hang himself; ice'll have the ivhole of their canii 
 paign out before the clay is over." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 All men love to gain their ends; most men are content- 
 ed with the shortest road to them, while others like by- 
 paths. Some carry an innate love of triumph to a pitch 
 of epicurism, and are not content unless the triumph be 
 achieved in a certain way, making collateral passions 
 accessories before or after the fact; and Murphy was one 
 of the number. To him, a triumph without fun was beef 
 without mustard, lamb without salad, turbot without lob- 
 ster sauce. Now, to entangle Furlong in their meshes waa 
 not suflBcient for him; to detain him from his friends, 
 every moment betraying something of their electioneering 
 mov^ements, though sufficiently ludicrous in itself, was not 
 enough for Murtough! he would make his captive a source 
 of ridicule as well as profit, and while plenty of real amuse- 
 ments might have served his end, to divert the stranger for 
 the day, this mock fishing-party was planned to brighten 
 with fresh beams the halo of the ridiculous which already 
 encircled the magnanimous 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 you must help me in playing oif the trick. " 
 
 " But what is this trick? Confound you, you're as mys- 
 terious as a chancery 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't keep 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 "' 
 can get into the other with the salmon. " 
 
 " But Where's the salmon. Murphy?'* 
 
 " In the house, for I sent one over this morning, a pres- 
 ent to Mrs. Egan. You must keep away about thirty 
 yards or so, when we get afloat, that our dear friend may 
 not perceive the trick — and in proper time I wiU hook mj
 
 130 Haxdy akdy. 
 
 dead salmon on one of my lines, droi3 him over the ofF-side 
 of the boat, pass him round to the gunwale within view of 
 our intelligent Castle customer, make a great outcry, swear 
 I have a noble bite, liaul up my 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 th© 
 trick." 
 
 " He'll smoke the salmon sooner. Never mind, if 1 
 don't hoax him: I'll bet 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," said Murphy; "and you, Squire, may go 
 about your canvass, and leave us in care of the enemy. ' ' 
 
 All was done as Murphy proposed, and, in something 
 less than an hour, Furlong and Dick in one boat, and Mur- 
 phy and his attendant gossoon in another, were afloat on 
 the river, to initiate the Dublin citizen into the mysteries 
 of this new mode of salmon-fishing. 
 
 The sport at first was slack, and no wonder; and Fur- 
 long began to grow tired, w^hen Murphy hooked on his 
 Balmon, and gently brought it round under 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 bit- 
 ing so early as this — they're not set about feeding in earnest 
 yet. Hilloa! by the Hokey I have him!" shouted Mur- 
 phy. Furlong looked on with great anxiety, as Mur23hy 
 made a well-feigned struggle with a heavy fish. 
 
 '* By this and that, he's a whopper!" cried Murphy in 
 ficstasy. " He's kicking like a two-year old. I have liim, 
 though, as fast as the rock o' Dunamase. Come up, you 
 thief!" cried he, with an exulting shout, as he pulled up 
 the salmon with all the splash he could produce; and sud- 
 denly whipping the fish over the side into the boat, he 
 began flapping it about as if it were plunging in the death- 
 struggle. As soon as he had affected to kill it, he held it 
 up in triumph before the Castle conjuror, who was quite 
 taken in by the feint, and protested his surprise loudly. 
 
 " Oh! that's nothing to what we'll do yet. If the day 
 should become a little more overcast, we'd have splendid 
 sport, sir. " 
 
 ;r- 
 
 <(
 
 HANDY ANDY. 13l 
 
 *' "Well, I could not have believed, if I hadn^t seen it," 
 said Furlong, 
 
 *' Oil! 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 I have been on the wiver." 
 
 " That's because chey see us watching them," said Dick. 
 " The d — 1 such canning brutes I ever met with as the fish 
 in this river; now, if you were at a distance from the bank, 
 you'd see them jumping as lively as grasshoppers. Whisht! 
 1 think I had a nibble." 
 
 " You don't seem to have good sport there," shouted 
 Murphy. 
 
 " V'ewy poo' indeed," said Furlong, dolefully. 
 
 " Play your line a httle," said Murphy; " keep the bait 
 lively — you're not 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 brand-new invention hi the fishing line. 
 Billy," said he to the gossoon, who was in the boat with 
 him, " we must catch a salmon again to ^iz;ar/! that strange 
 gentleman — hook him on, my buck." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Billy, with delighted eagerness, for the 
 boy entered into the fun of the thijig heart and soul, and 
 as he hooked on the salmon for a second haul, he inter- 
 larded his labors with such ejaculations as, " Oh, Misther 
 Murphy, sir, but you're the funny jintleman. Oh, Misther 
 Murphy, sir, how soft the stranger is, sir. The salmon's 
 ready for ketchin' now, sir. Will you ketch him yet, sir?" 
 
 " Coax him round, Billy," said Murphy. 
 
 The young imp executed the maneuver with adroitness,* 
 and Murphy was preparing for another haul, as Furlong's 
 weariness began to manifest itself. 
 
 " Do you intend wemaining here all day? Do you know, 
 I think I've no chance of spo't." 
 
 " Oh, wait till you hook one fish, at all events," said 
 Murphy; *• just have it to say you killed a salmon in the 
 new style. The day is promising better. I'm sure we'll 
 have sport yet. Hilloa! I've another!" and Murphy began 
 hauling in the salmon. '*' Billy, you rascal,, get re^y;
 
 138 hauny andt. 
 
 watch him — that's it — miud him now!" Billy put out hia 
 gaff to seize the prize, and, making a grand swoop, affect- 
 ed 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't let 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's so up to it. Ha! hurroo! I have him 
 now, sir." Billy made all the splash he could in the water 
 as Murphy lifted the fish to the surface and 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 
 off out o' my hands!" In proper time the fish was killed 
 and shown up in triumph, and the imposture completed. 
 
 And now Furlong began to experience that peculiar long- 
 ing to catch a fish, which always possesses men who see 
 fish taken by others; and the desire to have a salmon of his 
 own killing induced him to remain on the river. In the 
 long intervals of idleness which occurred between the occa- 
 sional hooking up of the salmon, which Murphy did every 
 now and then. Furlong ivould he talking about business to 
 Dick Dawson, so that they had not been very long on the 
 ■water until Dick became enlightened on some more very 
 important ponits connected with the election. Murphy 
 now pushed his boat on toward the shore. 
 
 " You're not going yet?" said the anxious fisherman; 
 ** do wait till I catch a fish!" 
 
 ** Certainly," said Murphy: "I'm only going to put 
 Billy ashore, and send home Avhat Ave've already caught. 
 Mrs. 0' Grady is passionately fond of salmon." 
 
 Billy was landed, and a large basket, in which the salmon 
 had been brought down to the boat, was landed also — 
 empty; and Murphy, lifting the basket as if it contained a 
 considerable weight, placed it on Billy's head, and the sly 
 young rascal bent beneath it, as if all the fish Murphy had 
 
 Ere tended to take were really in it; and he went on his 
 omeward way, wuth a tottering step, as if the load were 
 too much for him. 
 
 " That boy," said Furlong, " will never be able to 
 cawwy all those fish to the house. "
 
 HAXDY ANDY. 133 
 
 *' Oh, they won't be too much for him/' said Dick. 
 •'Curse the fish! I wish they'd bite. That thief, Mur^ 
 phy, has had all the sport; but he's the best fisherman in 
 the country, I'll own that." 
 
 The two boats all this time had been drifting down the 
 river, and on opening a new reach of the stream, a some- 
 what extraordinary scene of fishing presented itself. It 
 was not like Murphy's fishing, the result of a fertile inven- 
 tion, but the consequence of the evil destiny which presid- 
 ed over all the proceedings of Handy Andy. The fishing- 
 party in the boats beheld another fishing-party on shore, 
 with this difference in the nature of what they sought to 
 catch, that while they in the boats were looking for 
 salmon, those on shore were seeking for a post-chaise ; and 
 as about a third part of a vehicle so called was apparent 
 about the water. Furlong exclaimed with extreme sur- 
 prise — 
 
 " Well, if it ain't a post-chaise!" 
 
 "Oh! that's nothing extraordinar}', " said Dick; " com- 
 mon enough here." 
 " How do you mean?" 
 " We've a custom here of running steeple-chases in post- 
 
 cnaises." 
 
 " Oh, thank you," said Furlong. " Come, that's too 
 good." 
 
 "You don't believe it, I see," said Dick. " But you 
 did not believe the salmon-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. The system 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 you can. Xow 
 our horses in this country are celebrated for being good 
 swimmers, so it's a favorite plan to shirk a bridge some- 
 times by swimming a river." 
 
 " But no post-chaise will float," said Furlong, regularly 
 arguing against Dick's mendacious absurdity. 
 
 " Oh! we are prepared for that here. The chaises are 
 made light, have cork bottoms, and all the solid work is 
 made hollow; the doors are made water-tight, and, if the 
 stream runs strong, the passenger jumps out and swims. "
 
 134 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 "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 gan- 
 ders than human beings. I know I should wather be a 
 goose on the occasion." 
 
 All this time they were nearing the party on shore, and 
 as the post-chaise became more developed, so did the per- 
 sonages on the bank of the river: and amongst these Dick 
 Dawson saw Handy Andy in the custody of two men, and 
 Squire O'Grad}^ shaking his fist in his face and storming 
 at him. How all this party came there, it is necessary to 
 explain. When Handy Andy had deposited Furlong at 
 Merry vale, he drove back to pick up the fallen postilion 
 and his brother on the road; but before he reached them, 
 he had to pass a public-house — 1 say liad to pass — but he 
 didn't. Andy stopped, as every honorable postilion is 
 bound to do, to drink the health of the gentleman who 
 gives him the last half-crown: and he was so intent on 
 *' doing that same," as they say in Ireland, that Andjr's 
 driving became very equivocal afterward. In short, he 
 drove the post-chaise into the river; the horses got disen- 
 tangled by kicking the traces (which were very willing to 
 break) into pieces; and Andy, by sticking to the neck of 
 the horse he rode, got out of the water. The horses got 
 home without the post-chaise, and the other post-chaise 
 and pair got home without a postilion, so that Owny Doyle 
 was roused from his bed by the neighing of the horses at 
 the gate of the inn. Great was his surjjrise at the event, 
 as, half clad, and a candle in his hand, he saw two pairs of 
 horses, one chaise, and no driver, at his door. The next 
 morning the plot thickened. Squire O'Grady came to 
 know if a gentleman had arrived at the town on his way to 
 !Neck-or-nothing Hall. The answer was in the affirma- 
 tive. Then " Where was he?" became a question. Then 
 the report arrived of the post-chaise being upset in the 
 river. Then came stories of postilions falling off, of 
 postilions being changed, of Handy Andy being employed 
 to take the gentleman to the place; and out of these 
 materials the story became current, that " an English gen- 
 tleman was dhrownded in the river in a post-chaise.'* 
 O'Grady set off directly with a party to have the river
 
 HAXDT AKDY. 135 
 
 dragged, and near the spot encountering Handy Andy, lie 
 ordered him to be seized, and accused him of murdering 
 his friend. 
 
 It was in this state of things that the boats approached 
 the party on land, and the moment Dick Dawson saw 
 Handy Andy, he put out his oars and pulled away as liaid 
 as he could. At the moment he did so, Andy caught sight 
 of him, and pointing out Furlong and Dick to 'Grady, he 
 shorted, " There he is! there he is! 1 never murdhered 
 hini There he is! stop him! Misther Dick, stop, for the 
 lov^of God!'' 
 
 *< What's all this about?" said Furlong, iu great amaze- 
 meut. 
 
 '' Oh, he's a process-server," said Dick; " the people 
 are going to drown him, may be, " 
 
 " To dwown him?" said Furlong, in horror. 
 
 " If he has luck," said Dick, " they'll only give him a 
 good ducking; but we had better have nothing to do with 
 it. I would not like you to be engaged in one of these 
 popular rio^." 
 
 ** I shouldn't welhsh it myself," said Furlong. 
 
 " Pull away, Dick," said Murphy; "let them kill the 
 blackguard, if they like." 
 
 " But will they kill him weally?" inquired Furlong, 
 Bomewhat horrified. 
 
 " 'Faith, it's just as the wliim takes them," said Mur- 
 phy; " but as we wish to be popular on the hustings, we 
 must let them kill as many as they jjlease." 
 
 Andy still shouted loud enough to be heard. " Misther 
 Dick, they're goin' to murdher me." 
 
 " Poo' w'etch!" said Furlong, with a very uneasy shudder. 
 
 " May be you'd think it right for us to land, and rescue 
 him," said Murphy, affecting to put about the boat. 
 
 " Oh, by no means," said Furlong. "You're bettaw 
 acquainted wdtli the customs of the countwy than I am. " 
 
 " Then we'll row back to dinner as fast as we can, "said 
 Murphy. " Pull away, my hearties!" and, as he bent to 
 his oars, he began bellowing t he Canadian Boat Song, to 
 drown Andy's roar, and then he howled — 
 
 "Our voices keep tune," 
 there never was a more practical burlesque upon the words; 
 but as he added — 
 
 " Gur oars keep lime,"
 
 136 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 he seemed to have such a pleasure in pulling, and looked 
 BO lively and florid, that Furlong, chilled by his inactivity 
 on the water, requested Murtough to let him have an oar, 
 to restore circulation by exercise. Murtough complied; 
 but the novice had not pulled many strokes, before his 
 awkwardness produced that peculiar effect called " catch- 
 ing a crab," and a smart blow upon his chest sent him 
 heels over head under the thwarts of the boat. 
 
 *' Wha-wha-a-t's that?" gasped Furlong, as he scram- 
 bled up again. 
 
 " You only caught a crab," said Murtough. 
 
 "Good Heaven !'' said Furlong, "you don't mean to 
 say there are crabs as well 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 pastl" 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The hoats doubled round an angle in the river, and 
 Andy was left in the hands of Squire O'Grady still threat- 
 ening vengeance; but Andy, as long as the boats remained 
 in sight, heard nothing but his own sweet voice shouting at 
 the top of its pitch, " They're going to murdher me! — 
 Misther Dick, 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 roai* if he 
 had as muchrayson." 
 
 " 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, pointing after the boats. 
 
 " Who is there?" asked the Squire. 
 
 " Misther Dick, and the jintleman that I dhrav there." 
 
 *' Drove where?" 
 
 " To the Squire's." 
 
 ** What Souire?" 
 Squire Egan's, to be sure. " 
 Hold your tongue, you rascal; you're either drunk 
 
 t(
 
 HANDY ANDY. l-S? 
 
 fitill, or telling lies. The gentleman I mean wouldn't go 
 to Mister Egan's; he was coming to me.'' 
 
 " That's the jintleman I dhruv — that's all I know. He 
 was in the shay, and was nigh shootin' me: and Micky 
 Doolan stopped on the road, when his brother was nigh 
 killed, and towld me to get up, for he wouldn't go no far ■ 
 ther, when the jintleman objected — " 
 
 " What did the gentleman object to?" 
 
 " He objected to Pether goin' into the shay.'* 
 
 " Who is Peter?" 
 
 " Pether Doolan, to be sure." 
 
 *' And what brought Peter Doolan there?" 
 
 " He fell off the horses— " 
 
 ** Wasn't it Mick Doolan you said was driving but a mo- 
 ment ago?" 
 
 " Ay, sir, but that was th' other shay." 
 
 " What other chaise, you vagabond?" 
 
 " Th' other shay, your honor, that I never see at all, 
 good or bad — 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," said the Squire, to some of his peo- 
 ple standing by. " I must keej) him in custody till some- 
 thing 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 is heard of this strange gentleman. I'm 
 afraid he's drowned." 
 
 " D — 1 a dhrowned. I dhruv liim to Squire Egan's, I'll 
 take my book oath. ' ' 
 
 " That's downright nonsense, sir. He would as soon go 
 into Squire Egan's house as go to Fiddler's Green."* 
 
 " 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 must drag the river. " 
 
 " Dhrag the river if you please," said Andy; " but, for 
 the tendher mercy o' Heaven, don't dhrag me to jail! By 
 
 * Fiddler's Green is supposed to be situated on this (llie cooler^ 
 Bide of tlie regions bejow,
 
 1-18 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 all the crosses in a yard o' check, I dhruv the jintleman to 
 Squire Egan's! — and there he was in that boat 1 showed 
 you five minutes agone/' 
 
 " Bring him after me," said O'Grady. " The fellow ia 
 drunk still, or forgets all about it; I must examine him 
 again. Take him over to the Hall, and lock him up till I 
 go home." 
 
 " Arrah, sure, yoiu* honor," said Andy, commencing an 
 appeal. 
 
 ' If you say another word, you scoundrel,'^ said the 
 Squire, shaking his whip at him, " I'll commit you to jail 
 this minute. Keep a sharp eye after him, Molloy,'' were 
 the last words of the Squire to a stout-built peasant, who 
 took Andy in charge as the Squire mounted his horse and 
 rode away. 
 
 Andy was marched off to Neck-or-nothing Hall; and, 
 in compliance with the Squire's orders, locked up in the 
 justice-room. This was an apartment where the Squire, 
 in his magisterial capacity, dispensed what he called jus- 
 tice, and what he possibly meant to be such; but poor Jus- 
 tii^e coming out of Squire O'Grady's hands was something 
 like the little woman in the song, who, having her petti- 
 coats cut short while she was 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 
 identity from her nakedness, but from the peculiar dress- 
 ing Squire O'Grady bestowed upon her — she was so muffled 
 up in O'Gradyism that her own mother (who, by the same 
 token, was Themis) wouldn't know her. Indeed, if I re- 
 member. Justice is worse off than mortals respecting her 
 parentage; for while there are many people who do not 
 know who were their fathers, poets are uncertain who was 
 Justice's mother — some say Aurora, some say Themis. 
 Now, if I might indulge at this moment in a bit of reverie, 
 it would not be unreasonable to suppose that it is the 
 classic disposition of Ireland, which is known to be a very 
 ancient coimtry, that tends to make the operations of 
 Justice assimilate with the uncertainty of her birth; for 
 her dispensations there are as distinct as if they were the 
 offspring of two different influences. One man's justice is 
 ]iot another man's justice; which, I suppose, must arise
 
 HAXDT ANDT. 139 
 
 from the difference of opinion as to who and what Justice 
 is. Perhaps the rich people, wlio incHne to power, may 
 venerate Justice more as the child of Jupiter and Themis; 
 while the unruly ones worship her as the daughter of Titay 
 and Aurora; for undoubtedly the offspring of J wrora must 
 be most welcome to '* Peep-o'-day hoys." 
 
 "Well — not to indulge further* in reverie — Andy, I say, 
 was locked up in the justice-room; and as I have been 
 making all these observations about Justice, a few words 
 will not be thrown away about the room which she was sup- 
 posed to inhabit. Then I must say Squire 'Grady did 
 not use her well. The room was r. cold, comfortless apart- 
 ment, with a plastered wall and an earthen floor, save at 
 one end, where a raised platform of boards sustained a desk 
 and one high office-chair. No other seat was in the room, 
 nor was there any lateral window, the room being lighted 
 from the top, so that Justice could be in no way interested 
 with the country outside — she could only contemplate her 
 native heaven through the skylight. Behind the des-'k 
 were placed a rude shelf, where some " modern instances, '* 
 and old ones too, were lyhig covered with dust — and a gun- 
 rack, where some carbines with fixed l^ayonets were paraded 
 hi show of authority; so that, to an imaginative mind, the 
 aspect of the books and fire-arms gave the notion of Jus- 
 tice on the shelf, and Law on the rack. 
 
 But Andy thought not of these things; he had not the 
 imagination whieli sometimes gives a prisoner a passing 
 pleasure in catching a whimsical conceit from his situation, 
 and, in the midst of his anxiety, anticipating the satisfac- 
 tion he shall have in saying a good thing, even at the ex- 
 pense of his own suffering. Andy only knew that he wiis 
 locked up in the justice-room for something he never did. 
 He had only sense enough to feel that he was wronged, 
 without the spirit to wish himself righted ; and he saim- 
 tered up and down the cold, miserable room, anxiously 
 waiting the arrival ^i " his honor. Squire 0* Grady," to 
 know^ what his fate might be, and wondering if they would 
 hang him for upsetting a post-chaise in which a gentleman 
 had been riding, rather than brooding future means of re- 
 dress for his false imprisonment. 
 
 There was no window to look out of; he had not the 
 comfort of seeing a passing fellow-creature — for the sight 
 of one's kind is a comfort. He could not even behold th«
 
 140 HAKDY ANDY. 
 
 green earth and the freshness of nature, which, though all 
 unconsciously, has still a soothing influence on the unculti- 
 vated mind; he had nothing but the walls to look at, and 
 they were blank, save here and there that a burnt stick in 
 the hand of one of the young O'Gradies emulated the art 
 of a Sandwich Islander, and sketched faces as grotesque as 
 any Pagan could desire for liis idol; or figures after the old 
 well-established school-boy manner, which in the present 
 day is called Persian painting, '* warranted to be taught in 
 three lessons. " Now, this bespeaks degeneracy in the 
 arts; for, in the time we write of, boys and girls acquired 
 tbd art without any lessons at all, and abundant proofs of 
 this intuitive talent existed on the aforesaid v/alls. Napo- 
 leon and Wellington were fighting a duel, while Nelson 
 stood by to see fair play, he having nothing better to do, 
 as the battle of Trafalgar, represented in the distance, 
 could, of course, go on without him. The anachronism 
 of jumbling Bonaparte, Wellington, and Nelson together, 
 was a trifle amongst the O'Gradies, as they were nearly as 
 great proficients m history, ancient and modem, as in the 
 fine arts. Amidst these efl'orts of genius apj^eared many 
 an old rhyme, scratched with rusty nails by rustier police- 
 men, while lounging in the justice-room during the pro- 
 ceedings of the great 0' Grady, and all these were gone 
 over again and again by Andy, till they were worn out, all 
 but one — a rough representation of a man hanging. 
 
 Tliis possessed a sort of fascination for poor Andy; for 
 at last, relinquishing all others, he stood riveted before it, 
 and muttered to himself, " Iwondher can they hang me — 
 sure it's no murdher I done — but who knows what wit- 
 nesses they might get? and these times they sware mighty 
 hard; and Squire O'Grady has such a pack o' blackguards 
 about him, sure he could get anything swore he liked. Oh, 
 wirra! wirra! v/hat'll I do at all! Faix! I wouldn't like to 
 be hanged — oh! look at him there — just the last kick in 
 him — and a disgrace to my poor mother into the bargain. 
 Augh! — but it's a dirty death to die — to be hung up like a 
 dog over a gate, or an old hat on a peg, just that-a-way;" 
 and he extended his arm as he spoke, suspending his cau- 
 been, while he looked with disgust at the efllgy. " But 
 sure they can't hang me — though now I remember 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
 
 HAXDY ANDT. 141 
 
 Oonah, too, the craythur, would be sorry for me. May be, 
 if my mother spoke to Squire Egau^, his honor would say a 
 good word for me: — though thatwouldn^t do; for him and 
 Squire 'Grady's bitther iuimies now, though they wor 
 once good friends. Och hone! sure that's the way o' the 
 world; and a cruel world it is — so it is. Sure 'twould be 
 well to be out of it a' most, and in a betther world. I hope 
 there's no po' chaises in heaven!" 
 
 The soliloquy of poor Andj was interrupted by a low, 
 measured sound of thumjaiug, which his accustomed ear at 
 once distinguished to be the result of churning; the room 
 in which he was confined being one of a range of oflEices 
 stretching backward from the principal building and next 
 door to the dairy. Andy had grown tired by this time of 
 his repeated contemplation of the rhymes and sketches, 
 his own thoughts thereon, and his long confinement; and 
 now the monotonous sound of the churn-dash falling on 
 his ear, acted as a sort of Jmsho,* and the worried and 
 wearied Andy at last lay down on the platform and fell 
 asleep to the bumping lullaby. 
 
 CHAPTER XHL 
 
 The sportsmen, having returned from their fishing ex- 
 cursion to dinner, were seated round the hospitable board 
 of Squire Egan; Murphy and Dick in high glee, at still 
 successfully hoodwinking Furlong, and carrying on their 
 mystification with infinite frolic. 
 
 The soup had been removed, and they were in the act of 
 enjoying the salmon, which had already given so much en- 
 joyment, when a loud knocking at the door announced the 
 arrival of some fresh guest. 
 
 " Did you ask any one to dinner, my dear?" inquired 
 Mrs. Egan of her good-humored lord, who was the very 
 man to invite any friend he met in the 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 
 
 * A soft, monotODOus chant the nurses sing to children to induce 
 sleep,
 
 142 BAXDY ANDT. 
 
 and see who it was; for looks of alarm had been exchanged 
 between him, the Squire, and Murphy, lest any stranger 
 should erter without being apprised of the hoax going for- 
 ward; and Dawson had just reached the dining-room door 
 on his cautionary mission, when it was suddenly thrown 
 wide open, and in walked, with a rapid step and bustling 
 air, an active little gentleman dressed in black, who was 
 at Mrs. Egan's side in a moment, exclaiming with a very 
 audible voice and much empressement of manner: 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Egan, how do you do? I am delighted 
 to see you. Took a friend's privilege, you see, and have 
 come unbidden to claim the hospitality of your table. The 
 fact is, I was making a sick-visit to this side of my parish; 
 and finding it impossible to get home in time to my own 
 dinner, I had no scruple in laying yours under contribu- 
 tion.'' 
 
 Now this was the Protestant clergyman of the parish, 
 whose political views were in opposition to those of Mr. 
 Egan; but the good hearts of both men prevented political 
 feeling from interfering, as in Ireland it too often does, 
 with the social intercourse of life. Still, however, if Dick 
 Dawson had got out of the room in time, this was not the 
 man to assist them in covering their hoax on Furlong, and 
 the scene became excessively ludicrous the moment the 
 reverend gentleman made his appearance. Dick, the 
 Squire, and Murphy, opened their eyes at each other, while 
 Mrs. Egan grew as red as scarlet when Furlong stared at 
 her in astonishment as the new-comer mentioned her name. 
 She stammered out welcome as well as she could, and 
 called for a chair for Mr. Bermingham, with all sorts of 
 kind inquiries for Mrs. Bermingham and the little Ber- 
 minghams — for the Bermingham manufactory in that line 
 was extensive. 
 
 While the reverend gentleman was taking his seat, 
 spreading his napkin and addressing a word to each round 
 the table. Furlong turned to Fanny Dawson, beside whom 
 he was sitting (and who, by the bye, could not resist a fit 
 of laughter on the occasion), and said with a bewildered 
 look: 
 
 " Did he not addwess Madame as Mistwess Egan?" 
 
 *' Yeth,'* said Fanny, with admirable readiness; "but 
 "whithper." And as Furlong inclined his head toward her, 
 ehe whispered in his ear, " You muthn't mind him — he's
 
 HANDY ANDY. 143 
 
 mad, poor man!— that is, a lit tie hithane — and thinks every 
 lady is Mrs. Egan. Au unhappy pathion, poor fellow! — • 
 but quite hannlefJi." 
 
 Furlong uttered a ver}'' prolonged " Ohl^' at Fanny's 
 answer to his inquiry, and looked sharply round the table, 
 for there was an indefinable something in the conduct of 
 every one at the moment of Mr. Bermingham's entrance 
 tliat attracted his attention, and the name '' Egan,"' and 
 everybody's fidyetiness (which is the only word I can ap- 
 ply), roused his susjjicion. Fann3"'s answer only half satis- 
 tied him; and luoking at Mrs. Egan, who could not conquer 
 her confusion, he remarked, '* How i>eivy wed Mistwess 
 O'Gwady gwewl" 
 
 " Oh! thee can't lielp bluthing, poor soul! when he 
 tliays ' Egan ' to her, and thinks her \\\& furth love." 
 
 " How i'e«'^ widiculous to be sure," said Furlong. 
 
 " Haven't you innothent mad people thumtimes in Eng- 
 land?" said Fanny. 
 
 " Oh vewy," said Furlong, " but this appea's to me so 
 wema'kably stwange an abbewation." 
 
 " Oh," returned P'anny, with quickness, " I thuppose 
 people go mad on their ruling pathion, and the ruling 
 pathion of the Irish, you know, is love.'** 
 
 The conversation all this time was going on in other 
 quarters, and Furlong heard Mr. Bermnigham talking of 
 his having preached last Sunday in his new church. 
 
 '' Suwely," said he to Fanny, '' they would not pe'mit 
 an insane cle'gyman to pweach?" 
 
 *' Oh," said Fanny, almost suffocating with laughter, 
 " he only tliinMh he's a clergyman." 
 
 " How vewy dwoll you are!" said Furlong. 
 
 " Now you're only quithnig me," said Fanny, looking 
 with affected innocence in the face of the unfortunate 
 young gentleman she had been quizzing most unmercifully 
 the whole day. 
 
 " Oh, Miste* O'Gwady," said Furlong, " we saw them 
 going to dwown a man to-day." 
 
 " Indeed!" said the Squire, reddening, as he saw Mr. 
 Bermingham stare at his being called O'Grady; so, to cover 
 the blot, and stop Furlong, he asked him to take wine. 
 
 " Do they often dwown people here?" continued Fur- 
 long, after he had bowed. 
 
 " Not that I know of/' said the Squire.
 
 144 HANBY AKDT. 
 
 " But are not the lowe* o'ders wather given to what 
 Lo'd Bacon calls — " 
 
 " Who cares about Lord Bacon?" said Murphy. 
 
 " My dear sir, you siipvvise me!'' said Furlong, in utter 
 amazement. *' Lord Bacon's sayings — " 
 
 " Ton my conscience," said Murphy, " both himself 
 and his sayings are very 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 poor figure in the evening." 
 
 " By the bye," said Mr. Bermingham, " talkmg of 
 drowning, I heard a very odd story to-day from 0' Grady. 
 You and he, I believe," said the clergyman, addressing 
 Egan, " are not on as good terms as you were?" 
 
 At this speech Furlong did rather open his eyes, the 
 Squire hummed and hawed. Murphy coughed, Mrs. Egan 
 looked into her plate, and Dick, making a desperate rush 
 to the rescue, asked Furlong which lie preferred, a single- 
 or a double-barreled gun. 
 
 Mr. Bermingham, perceiving the sensation his question 
 created, thought he hatl touched upon forbidden ground, 
 and therefore did not repeat his question, and Fanny whis- 
 pered Furlong that one of the stranger's mad peculiarities 
 was mistaking one person for another; but all this did not 
 satisfy Furlong, whose misgivings as to the real name of 
 his host were growing stronger every moment. At last, 
 Mr. Bermingham, without alluding to the broken friend- 
 ship between Egan and 0' Grady, returned to the " odd 
 story " he had heard that morning about drowning. 
 
 *' 'Tis a strange affair," said he, " and our side of the 
 oountry is all alive about it. A gentleman who was expected 
 from Dublin last night at ISTeck-or-nothing Hall, arrived, 
 as it is ascertained, at the village, and thence took a post- 
 chaise, since whicli time he has not been heard of ; and as 
 a post-chaise was discovered this morning sunk in the 
 river, close by Ballyslougligutthery bridge, it is suspected 
 the gentleman has been drowned either by accident or de- 
 sign. The postilion is in confinement on suspicion, and 
 O'Grady has written to the Castle about it to-day, for the 
 gentleman was a govornment agent." 
 
 "Why, sir," said Furlong, "that must be me!"
 
 HANDY AKDY. 145 
 
 " Toil, sir !"said Mr. Bermingham, whose turn it was 
 to be surprised now. 
 
 "■ Yes, sir," said Furlong, "I took a post-chaise at the 
 village last night, and I'm an agent of the gove'ment." 
 
 " But you're not drowned, sir — and he was,*' said Ber- 
 mingham. 
 
 " To be su'e I'm not dwowned: but I'm the person." 
 
 " Quite impossible, sir," said Mr. Bermingham. " You 
 can't be the person." 
 
 " Why, sir, do you expect to pe'suade me out of my o>\ti 
 identity!" 
 
 " Oh," said Murjahy, "there will be no occasion to 
 prove identity till the body is found, and the coroner's in- 
 quest sits; that's the law, sir — at least, in Ireland." 
 
 Furlong's bewildered look at the unblushing impudence 
 of Murphy was worth anythmg. While he was dumb 
 from astonishment, Mr. Bermingham, with marked polite- 
 ness, said, " Allow me, sir, for a moment to explain to 
 you. You see, it could not be you, for the gentleman was 
 going to Mr. 0' 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 
 toward Mr. Bermingham, Fanny caught the clergyman's 
 eye, tapped her foretead with the forefinger of her right 
 hand, shook her head, and turned up her eyes with an ex- 
 pression of pity, to indicate that Furlong was not quite 
 right in his mind. 
 
 " Oh, I beg pardon, sir," said Mr. Bermingham. *' I 
 Bee it's a mistake of mine." 
 
 *' There certainly is a ^ewy gweat mistake somewhere," 
 said Furlong, who was now bent on a very direct question. 
 " Pway, Miste' O'Gwady," said he, addressing Egan, 
 " that is, il you are Miste' O'Gwady, will you tell me, are 
 you Miste' O'Gwady?" 
 
 " Sir," said the Squire, "you have chosen to call mc 
 'Grady ever since you 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?" 
 
 " 'Twill save your friends postage," said Dick, " whea 
 you write to them to say you're safe.'*
 
 146 •BTAKDY AKDT. 
 
 " Mlate' Wegan/' said Furlong, with an attempt at 
 offended dignity, " I conside' myself vewy ill used.'^ 
 
 " You're the first man I ever heard of being ill used a* 
 Merry vale House/' said Murphy. 
 
 " Sir, it's a gwievous w'oiigl" 
 
 ** What is all this about?" asked Mr. Bermingham. 
 
 " My dear friend," said the Squire, laughing — though, 
 indeed" that was not peculiar to Jiiju. for every one round 
 the table, save the victim, was doing the same thing (as for 
 Fanny, she shouted), " My dear friend, this gentleman 
 came to my house last night, and 1 took him for a 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 mutual mistake 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, '' m which you 
 will find it difficult to make an Irish host coincide. " 
 
 " But you must have known, sir, that it was not my in- 
 tention to come to your house. " 
 
 " How could I ioiow that, sir?'' said the Squire, jocu- 
 larly. 
 
 " Why, Miste' Wegan — you know — that is — in fact- 
 confound it, sir!" said Furlong, at last, losing his .temper, 
 " you know I told you all about our electioneering tactics." 
 
 A loud laugh was all the response Furlong received to 
 this outbreak. 
 
 " Well, sir," repeated, he, " I pwotest it is extwemely 
 unfair." 
 
 " You know, my dear sir," said Dick, '' we Irish are 
 such pool' ignorcnit creatures, according to your own ac- 
 count, that we can make no use of the knowledge with 
 which you have so generously supplied us." 
 
 " Y"ou know," said the' Squire, "we have no Teal 
 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-morrov.', and I'll show you evea better 
 salmon-fishing than you had to-da^. **
 
 HANDT AXDT. 147 
 
 " Sir, no consideration would mftke me wemain anothe' 
 wower in this house.' 
 
 Murphy screwed his hps together, puffed out something 
 between a whistle and the blowing out of a candle, and 
 ventured to suggest to Furlong he had better wait even a 
 couple of hours, till he had got his allowance of claret. 
 " Remember the adage, sir, ' In vino veritaa,' and we'll 
 teil you all our electioneering secrets after we've had 
 enough wine." 
 
 *' As soon, Miste' Wegan,'" said Mr. Furlong, quite 
 chap-fallen, " as you can tell me how I can get to the 
 house to which I intended to go, I will be weddy to bid you 
 good-evening. " 
 
 •' If you arc determined, Mr. Furlong, to remain here 
 no longer, I shall not 2)ress my hospitality upon you; when- 
 ever you decide upon going, my carriage shall be at your 
 service. '' 
 
 *' The sooue' the bette% sir,"' said Furlong, retreating 
 still further into a cold ajid sulky manner. 
 
 The Squire made no further attempt to conciliate him : 
 he merelv said, " Dick, ring the bell. Pass the claret. 
 Murphy. '' 
 
 The bell was rung — the claret passed — a servant entered, 
 and orders were given In' the Squire that the carriage 
 should he at the door as soon as possible. In the interim, 
 Dick Dawson, the Squire, and Murphy, laughed as if noth- 
 ing had happened, and Mrs. Egan conversed in an under- 
 tone wuth Mr. Bermingham. Fanny looked mischievous, 
 and Furlong kejDt his hand on the foot of his glass, and 
 shoved it about something in the fashion oi an uncertain 
 chess-player, who does not know where to put the piece on 
 which he has laid his linger. 
 
 The carriage was soon announced, and Mrs. Egan, as 
 Furlong seemed so anxious to go, rose from table; and as 
 she retired, he made her a cold and formal bow. He at- 
 tempted a tender look and soft word to Fanny — for Fur- 
 long, who thought himself a becm garQon, had been play- 
 ing off his attractions upon her all day, but the mischiev- 
 ously merry Fanny Dawson, when she caught the sheepish 
 eye," and heard the mumbled gallantry of the Castle 
 A i.onis, could not resist a titter, which obliged her to hide 
 her dimpling cheek and pearly teeth in her handkerchief 
 as she passed to the door. The ladies being gone, the
 
 148 HANDY AXDT. 
 
 Squire asked Furlong, would he not have some more wine 
 before he went. 
 
 ''No, thank you, Miste' Wegan," replied he, " after 
 being twicked in the manner 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 of practicing any joke upon 
 you. You should have had the hospitality of an Irishman's 
 house, without the consequence that has followed, had you 
 not indulged in sneering at the Irishman's country, which, 
 to your shame be it spoken, is your otvn. You vaunted 
 your own superior intelligence and iinesse over us, sir; and 
 told us you came down to overthrow poor Pat in the trick- 
 ery of electioneering movements. Under these circum- 
 stances, sir, I think what we have done is quite fair. We 
 have shown you that you are no match for us in the finesse 
 upon which you pride yourself so much; and the next time 
 you talk of your countrymen, and attempt to undervalue 
 them, just remember how you have been outwitted at 
 Merry vale House. Good-evening, Mr. Furlong, I hope we 
 part without owing each other any ill-will. ■" The Squire 
 offered his hand, but Furlong drew up, and amidst such 
 expletives as " weally," and " I must say,'' he at last 
 made use of the word " atwocious.'' 
 
 *' What's that you say?" said Dick. " You don't speak 
 very plain, and I'd Hke to be sure of the last word you 
 used." 
 
 " I mean to say that a — " and Furlong, not much lik- 
 ing the tone of Dick's question, was humming, and hawing 
 a sort of explanation of what " he meant to say," when 
 Dick thus interrupted him — 
 
 " I tell you this, Mr. Furlong: all that has been done is 
 my doing — I've humbugged you, sir — humbugged. I've 
 sold you — dead. I've pumped you, sir — all your elec- 
 tioneering bag of tricks, bribery and all, exposed; and now 
 go off toO'Grady, and tell him how the poor ignorant Irish 
 have done you; and see, Mr. Furlong," in a quiet under- 
 tone, *' if there's anything that either he or you don't like 
 about the business, you shall have any satisfaction you like, 
 and as often as you please. ' ' 
 
 " I shall conside' of that, sir," said Furlong, as he leff 
 the house, and entered the carriage, where he threw him- 
 self back in offended dignity, and soliloquized vows of venge-
 
 HANDY AliTDT. 140 
 
 ance. But the bumping of the carriage over a rough 
 road disturbed the pleasing reveries of revenge, to awaken 
 him to the more probable and less agreeable consequences 
 likely to occur to himself for the blunder he had ruade; 
 for, with all the puppy's self-sidhciency and conceit, he 
 could not by any process of mental delusion conceal fron? 
 himself the tact that he had been most tremendously done, 
 and how his party would take it was a serious considers 
 tion. O'Grady, another horrid Irish squire — how should 
 he face him 9 ' For a moment he thought it better to go 
 back to Dublin, and he pulled the check-string — the car- 
 riage stopped — down went the front glass. . " I say, coach- 
 man. " 
 
 " 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 want you to listen to me — cawn't you listen?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, then — dwive to the village. " 
 I thought it \va«i to the Hall I was to dhrive, sir.'* 
 Do what you're told, sir — tlie village!" 
 What village, sir?" asked Mat, the groom, who knew 
 well enough, but for Furlong's impertinence did not choose 
 to understand anything gratuitously. 
 
 " Why the village I came from yest,e'day." 
 What village was that, sir?" 
 
 How stoopfd 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 
 sioopid you Iwish are! 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 
 keep post-chaises — now you know." 
 
 " Faix, they have po'chayses in all the villages here; 
 there's no better accommodation for man or baste in the 
 world than here, sir. " 
 
 Furlong was mute from downright vexation, till his rage 
 
 
 (I
 
 150 H-ANDY AXDT. 
 
 got vent in an oath, another denunciation of Iribh stupid- 
 ity, and at last a declaration that the driver y/2t(5^ know the 
 Village. 
 
 "How would I know it, sir, when you don't know it 
 yourself?'' asked the groom; '' I suppose it has a name to 
 jt, and if you tell me that, I'll dnrive you there fast 
 enough." 
 
 " I can not wemember your howwid names her©— it is a 
 Bal, or Bally, or some such gibbewish — " 
 
 Mat would not be enlightened. 
 
 *' Is there not Bal or Bally something?'* 
 
 " Oh, a power o' Bailies, sir; there's Ballygabh, and 
 Ballyslash, and Ballysmish, and Ballysmash, and — " bo 
 went on Mat, inventing a string of Bailies, till he was 
 Btopped by the enraged Furlong. 
 
 None o' them! none o' them!" exclaimed he, in a 
 fury; '* 'tis something about ' dirt,' or * mud.' " 
 
 "Maybe 'twould be gutther, sir," said Mat, who saw 
 Purlong was near the mark, and he thought he might us 
 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 tlie glass, he threw him- 
 eelf back again in the carriage. Another troubled vision 
 of what the secretary would say came across him, and, 
 after ten minutes' balancing the question, and trembling 
 at the thoughts of an official blowing up, he tliought he 
 had better even venture on an Irish squire, so the check- 
 string was again pulled, 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 towld me, sir, before I took the last turn — 
 we're nigh a mile toward 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 carriage with some difficulty in a narrow by 
 road. 
 
 Another visio" came across the bewildered fancy of Fur- 
 long; the certainty of the fury of 'Grady — the immediate 
 contempt as well as anger attendant on his being bam- 
 booTiled — and the result at last being the same in drawing
 
 HANDY ANDY. 151 
 
 down the secretary's anger. This produced another 
 change of intention, and he let down the glass for the third 
 time — once more changed his orders as concisely as possi- 
 ble, and pulled it up again. All this time Mat was laugh- 
 ing internally at the bewilderment of the stranger, and as 
 he turned round the carriage again he muttered to himself, 
 " By this and that, you're as hard to dhrive as a pig; for 
 you 11 neither go one road nor tli' other. " He had not 
 proceeded far, when Furlong determined to face 'Grady 
 instead of the Castle, and the last and final order for 
 another turn about was given. Mat hardly suppressed an 
 oath; but respect for his master stopped him. The glass 
 of the carriage was not pulled up this time, and Mat was 
 asked a few questions about the Hall, and at last about the 
 Squire. Now Mat had acuteness enough to fathom the 
 cause of Furlong's indecision, and determined to make him 
 as unhappy as he could; therefore to the question of 
 " 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's answer 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 a high and ruinous wall, stopped before a 
 gateway that "had once been handsome, and Furlong was 
 startled by the sound of a most thundering bell, Avhich the 
 vigorous pull of Mat stimulated to its utmost pitch; the 
 baying of dogs which followed was terrific. A savage- 
 looking gatekeeper made his appearance with a light — not 
 in a lantern, but shaded wath liis tattered hat; many ques- 
 tions and answers ensued, and at last the gate was opened. 
 The carriage proceeded up a very ragged avenue, stopped 
 before a large rambling sort of building, which even moon- 
 light could exhibit to be very much out of repair, and after 
 repeated knocking at the door (for Mat knew his Squire 
 and the other Squire were not friends now, and that he 
 might be impudent), the door was unchained and unbarred, 
 «iud Furlong deposited in Neck-or-nothing Ha lL
 
 152 HANDY AKDY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Buch is the custom of Branksome Hall. 
 
 Lay of the Last Minttrd, 
 
 NECK-OR NOTHING HALL. 
 
 CANTO 1. 
 
 Ten good nights and ten good days 
 It would take to tell thy ways, 
 Various, many, and amazing: 
 Neckornothing 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,* 
 
 Or " clip a server," f did blithely lie 
 
 In the stable parlor next to the sky.:j: 
 
 Dinner, save chance ones, seldom had they, 
 
 Unless they could nibble their beds of hay; 
 
 But the less they got, they were hardier ail— 
 
 'Twas the custom of Neck-or-nothing Hall. 
 
 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 boya who shook 
 
 FrvE times a day at his lowering look. 
 
 Six blunderbusses 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 § in the treasury— 
 
 « 
 
 A facetious phrase for bailiff, so often kicked 
 
 \ Cutting off the ears of a process-server. 
 
 X Hayloft. 
 
 § A shilling, so called from its being worth thirteen pence VB 
 those days.
 
 SANDY A^'DT. 153 
 
 (Such its numerical strength, I guess 
 It can't be more, but it may be less). 
 Tar baiTels 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. 
 
 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.* 
 But when passwords pass 
 That might " serve a mass," f 
 Then bars are drawn and chains let fall. 
 And you get into Neck-or-nothing Hall. 
 
 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. Orowling's Metrical Bomancs. 
 
 The bird Veye view which the doctor's peep from Par- 
 nassus has afforded, may furnish the imagination of the 
 reader with materials to create in his own mind a vague yet 
 not unjust notion of Neck-or-nothing Hall; but certain 
 details of the Hall itself, its inmates and its customs, may 
 be desired by the matter-of-fact reader or the more min- 
 utely curious, and as the author has the difficult task be- 
 fore him of trying to please all tastes, something more defi- 
 nite is required. 
 
 The Hall itself was, as we have said, a rambling sort of 
 structure. Ramifying from a solid center, which gave the 
 notion of a founder well to do in the world, additions, 
 without any architectural pretensions to fitness, were stuck 
 on here and there, as whim or necessity suggested or de- 
 manded, and a most incongruous mass of gables, roofs, and 
 chimneys, odd windows and blank walls, was the conse- 
 quence. According to the circumstances of the occupants 
 
 * This is not the word in the MS. 
 
 + Serving mass occupies about twenty-five minutes.
 
 154 HANDY ANDY 
 
 who inherited the property, the building was either in- 
 creased or neglected. A certain old bachelor, for example, 
 who in the course of events inherited the property, had no 
 necessity for nurses, nursery-maids, and their consequent 
 suite of apartments; and as he never aspired to the honoi 
 of matrimony, the ball-room, the drawing-room, and extra 
 bed-chambers were neglected; but being a fox-hunter, a 
 new kennel and range of stables were built, the dining- 
 room enlarged, and all the ready money he could get at 
 spent in augmenting the plate, to keep pace with the rac- 
 ing-cups he won, and proudly 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 ruinous 
 condition, it was impossible to keep a stud of horses along 
 with a wife and a large family, so the stables and kennel 
 went to decay, while the ladies' and family apartments could 
 only be patched up. When the house was dilapidated, the 
 grounds about it, of course, were ill kept. Fine old trees 
 were there, originally intended to afford shade to walks 
 which were so neglected as to be no more walkable than 
 any other part of the gromids — the vista of aspiring stems 
 indicated where an avenue had been, but neither hoe nor 
 rolling-stone had, for many a year, checked the growth of 
 grass or weed, ^o much for the outside of the house; now 
 for the inside. 
 
 That had witnessed many a thoughtless, expensive, head- 
 long and irascible master, but never one more so than the 
 present owner; added to which, he had the misfortune of 
 being unpopular. Other men, thoughtless, and headlong, 
 and irritable as he, have lived and had friends; but there 
 was something about 'Grady that was felt, perhaps, more 
 than it could be defined, which made him unpleasing — • 
 perhaps the homely phrase "cross-grained" may best 
 express it, and O'Grady was essentially a cross-grained 
 man. The estate, when he got it, was pretty heavily sad- 
 dled, and the " galled jade " did not '' wince"' the less 
 for his riding. 
 
 A good jointure to his mother was chargeable on the 
 property, and this was an excuse on all occasions for the 
 Squire's dilatory payment in other quarters. '' Sir," he 
 would say, '' my motber's jointure is sacred — it is more 
 than the estate can well bear, it is true, but it is a sacred
 
 HANT1T ANDT. 155 
 
 pjaim,. and I would sooner sacrifice my life, my honor, sir, 
 than see that claim neglected!'-' Now all tliis sounded 
 mighty fine, but his mother could never see her jointure 
 regularly paid, and was obhged to live in the house with 
 him: she was somewhat of an oddlfij, and had apartments 
 to herself, and, ae long as she was let alone, and allowed to 
 read romances in quiet, did not complain; and whenever a 
 stray ten-pound note did fall mto her hands, she gave the 
 greater part of it to her younger granddaughter, who was 
 rond of flowers and plants, and supported a little conserv- 
 atory on her grandmother's bounty, she paying the tribute 
 of a bouquet to the old lady when the state of her botanical 
 prosperity could afford it. The eldest gnl was a favorite 
 of an uncle, and licr passion being dogs, all the presents 
 her uncle made her in money were converted into canine 
 curiosities; while the youngest girl took an interest in the 
 rearing of poultry. Now the boys, varying in age from 
 eight to fourteen, had their separate favorites too — one 
 loved bull-dogs and terriers, another game-cocks, the third 
 ferrets, and the fourth rabbits and pigeons. These multi- 
 farious tastes produced strange results. In the house, 
 flowers and plants, indicating refinement of taste and cost- 
 liness, were strongly contrasted with broken plaster, soiled 
 hangings, and faded paint; an expensive dog might be 
 seen lapping cream out of a shabby broken plate; a never- 
 ending sequence of M' ars raged among the dependent favor- 
 ites, the bull-dogs and terriers chopping up the ferrets, the 
 ferrets killing the game- cocks, the game-cocks killing the 
 tame poultry and rabbits, and the rabbits destroying the 
 garden, assisted by the flying reserve of pigeons. It was 
 a sort of Irish retaliation, so amusingly exemplified in the 
 nursery jingle: 
 
 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. 'Grady (the wife) must not be forgotten; her 
 weak point was a feather-bed. Good soul! anxious that 
 whoever slept under her roof should lie softly, she would 
 go to the furthest corner of the county to secure an acces- 
 sion to her favorite property — and such a collection of loi:-
 
 156 HANDY AXDY. 
 
 urionp feather-beds never was seen in company with such 
 rickety bedsteads and tattered and mildewed curtains, in 
 rooms uncarpeted, whose paper was dropping off the wall, 
 — well might it be called paper-hanging indeed! — whose 
 washing-tables were of deal, and whose delf was of the 
 plainest ware, and even that minus sundi-y handles and 
 spouts. Nor was the renoM'ned 0' Grady without his hob- 
 by, too. While the various members of his family were 
 thwarting each other, his master-mischief was thwarting 
 them all; like some wicked giant looking down on a squab- 
 ble of dwarfs, and ending the fight by kicking them all 
 right and left. Then he had his troop of pets too — idle 
 blackguards who were slingeing* about the place eternally, 
 keeping up a sort of "cordon samtaire,'^ to prevent the 
 pestilential presence of a bailiff, which is so catching, and 
 turns to jail fever, a disease which had been fatal in the 
 family. 'Grady never ventured beyond his domain ex- 
 cept on the back of a fleet horse — there he felt secure; in- 
 deed, the place he most dreaded legal assault in was his 
 own house, where he apprehended trickery might invade 
 him: a. carriage might be but a feint, and hence the great 
 circumspection in the opening of doors. 
 
 From the nature of the establishment, thus hastily 
 sketched, the reader will 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 veiy people his boys picked up the love of dog-fights, 
 cock-fights, etc. ; and they, from the fights of their pets, 
 fought amongst themselves, and were always fighting with 
 their sisters; so the reader will see the " metrical ro- 
 mance " was not overcharged in its rhymes on Neck-or- 
 nothing Hall. 
 
 When Furlong entered the hall, he gave his name to a 
 queer-looking servant with wild scrubby hair, a dirty face, 
 a tawdry livery, worse for wear, which had manifestly been 
 made for a larger man, and hung upon its present posses- 
 sor like a coat upon a clothes-horse; his cotton stockings, 
 meant to be white, and clumsy shoes, meant to be black, 
 met each other half-way, and split the difference in a pleas- 
 ing neutral tint. Leaving Furlong standing in the hall, 
 he clattered upstairs, and a dialogue ensued between mas* 
 
 * An Hibernicism, expressive of lounging laziness.
 
 HAKDY ANDY. 157 
 
 ter and man so loud that Furlong could hear the 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 tone of auger, rapidly succeeded one another; then such 
 broken w^ords and sentences as these ensued — " fudge I— 
 humbug! — rascally trick! — eh! — by the hokey, they'd bet* 
 ter take care! — put the scoundrel under the pump!'' 
 
 Furlong more than half suspected it was to him this del- 
 icate attention was intended, and began to feel uncomfort- 
 able : he sharpened his ears to their keenest hearing, but 
 there was a lull in the conversation, and he could ascertain 
 one of the gentler sex was engaged in it by the ogre-like 
 voice uttering, "Fudge, woman! — fiddle-de-dee!" Then 
 he caught the words, " perhaps," and " gentleman," in a 
 lady's voice; then out thundered " rascal's carriage! — why 
 come in that!-' — friend! — humbug! — rascal's carriage! — tar 
 and feather him, by this and that!" 
 
 Furlong began to feel very uncomfortable; the conver- 
 sation ended; down came the servant, to whom Furlong 
 was about to address himself, when the man said, " He 
 would be with him in a minit," and vanished; a sort of 
 recounoitering party, one by one, then passed through the 
 hall, eying the stranger very suspiciously, any of them to 
 whom Furlong ventured a word scurrying off in double- 
 quick time. For an instant he meditated a retreat, and, 
 looking to the door, saw a heavy chain across it, the pat- 
 tern of which must have been had from !Newgate. He at- 
 tempted to unfasten it, and as it clanked heavily, the ogre's 
 voice from upstairs bellowed, "' Who the d — I's that open- 
 ing the door?" Furlong's hand dropped from the chain, 
 and a low growling went on ujj the staircase. The servant 
 whom he first saw returned. 
 
 '' 1 fear," said Furlong, '' there is some misappwehen- 
 sion." 
 
 " A what, sir?" 
 
 '* A misappwehension." 
 
 ** Oh, no, sir! it's only a mistake the master thought 
 you might be making; he thinks you mistuk the house, 
 maybe, sir?" 
 
 ' ' Oh, no — I ivather think he mistakes me. Will you 
 do me the favo'," and he producM a packet of papers as 
 he spoke — " the favo' to take my cwedentials to Mr. 
 O'Gwady, and if he throws his eye over these papa's — ''
 
 153 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 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 'terual this and that, I'll 
 have him in the horse-pond!" A heavy stamping overhead 
 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 small room, beckoned Furlong to follow her. For 
 u moment he hesitated, for his heart misgave him; but 
 shame at the thought of doubting or refusing the sum- 
 mons of a lady overcame his fear, and he followed to a lit- 
 tle parlor, where mutual explanations between Mrs. 
 C Grady and himself, and many messages, questions, and 
 answers, which she carried up and down-stairs, at length 
 set Furlong's mind at ease respecting his personal safety, 
 and rinally admitted him into the presence of the truculent 
 lord of the castle — who, when he heard that Furlong had 
 been staying in the enemy's camp, was not, it may be sup- 
 posed, m a sweet temper to receive him. 0' Grady looked 
 thunder as Furlong entered, and eying him keenly for 
 some seconds, as if he were taking a mental as well as an 
 ocular measurement of him, he saluted him with: 
 
 " Well, sir, a pretty kettle of fish you've nuide of this. 
 1 hope YOU have not blubbed 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 
 tuard, you know — " 
 
 '' Pooh, sir! a man should never be off his guard in an 
 election. But how the d — 1, sir, could you make such a 
 diimdering mistake as to go to the wrong house?' 
 *' It was a howwid postilion, Miste' O'Gwady." 
 *' The scoundrel!" exclaimed 0' Grady, stamping up and 
 down tlie room. 
 
 At this moment, a tremendous crash was heard; the 
 ladies Jumped from their seats; 'Grady paused in his 
 rage, and his poor, pale wife exclaimed: 
 ' 'Tis 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 an enormous breach in the glass 
 roof of the building. How tliis occurred a few 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, in which he fancied he was about to be hanged.
 
 HAXDY ANDY. 159 
 
 So impressed was he by the vision, that he determined on 
 making his escape if he could, and to this end piled the 
 chair upon the desk, and the volumes of law books on the 
 chair, and, being an active fellow, contrived to scramble up 
 high enough to lay his hand on the frame of the skylight, 
 and thus make his way out on the roof. Then walking, 
 as well as the darkness would permit him, along the coping 
 of the wall, he approached, as it chanced, the conservatory; 
 but the coping being loose, one of the flags turned under 
 Andy's foot, and bang he went through the glass roof, 
 carrying down in his fall some score of flower-pots, and 
 finally stuck in a tub, with his legs uj^ward, and embowered 
 in the branches of crushed geraniums and hydrangeas. 
 
 He was dragged out of the tub, amidst a shower of curses 
 from 0' Grady; but the moment Andy recovered the few 
 senses he had, and saw Furlong, regardless of the anathe- 
 mas of the Squire, he shouted out, " There he is! there he 
 is!'' and rushing toward him, exclaimed, ''Now, did I 
 dhrowned you, sir, did I? Sure, I never murdhered you!" 
 
 'Twas as much as could be done to keep O'Grady's 
 hands ofl" Andy, for smashing the conservatory, when Fur- 
 long's presence made him no longer liable to imprisonment. 
 
 " Maybe he has a vote," said Furlong, anxious to dis- 
 play how much he was on the qui vive in election matters 
 
 " Have you a vote, you rascal?" 
 
 " You may sarche me if you like, your honor," said 
 Andy, who thought a vote was some sort of property he 
 was suspected of stealing. 
 
 " You are either the biggest rogue or the biggest fool I 
 ever met," said O'Grad}'. " Which are you now?" 
 
 " Whichever your honor plazes," said Andy. 
 
 " If I forgive you, will you stand by me at the election?'" 
 
 "I'll stand anywhere your honor bids me," said Andj 
 humbly. 
 
 " That's a thorough-going rogue, I'm inclined to think,' 
 said 0' Grady, aside, to Furlong. 
 
 " He looks more like a fool in my appweheusion," was 
 the reply. 
 
 " Oh, these fellows conceal the deepest roguery some- 
 times under an assumed simplicity. You don't understand 
 the Irish. ' ' 
 
 " Und'stand I" exclaimed Furlong; "I pwonounce the 
 whole countwy quite incompwehensible!"
 
 160 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 a 
 
 Well!'' growled O'Grady to Andy, after a momenfa 
 consideration, " go down to the kitchen, you house-break- 
 ing vagabond, and get your supper!" 
 
 Now, considering the ' ' fee, f aw, f um " qualities of 
 0' Grady, the reader may be surprised at the easy manner 
 in which Andy slipped through his fingers, after having 
 slipped through the roof of his conservatory; but as be- 
 tween two stools folks fall to the ground, so between two 
 rages people sometimes tumble into safety. 0' Grady was 
 in a divided passion — first his wrath was excited against 
 Furlong for his blunder, and just as that was about to ex- 
 plode, the crash ^^f Andy's sudden appearance amidst the 
 flower- pots (like a practical parody on " Love among the 
 roses '*') called off the gathering storm in a new direction, 
 and the fury sufficient to annihilate one was, by dispersion, 
 harmless to two. But on the return of the party from the 
 conservatory, after Andy's descent to the kitchen, O'Grady's 
 rage against Furlong, though moderated, 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 his 
 face, shuffling his feet about, throwing his right leg over 
 his left knee, and then suddenly, as if that were a mistake, 
 tlirowing his left over the right, thrumming on the arm of 
 his chair with liis clinched hand, inhaling the air very 
 audibly through his protruded lij^s, as if he were supping 
 hot soup, and all the time fixing his eyes on the fire with a 
 portentous gaze, as if he would have evoked from it a 
 salamander. 
 
 Mrs. 0' Grady in such a state of affairs, wishing to speak 
 to the stranger, yet anxious she should say nothing that 
 could bear upon immediate circumstances lest she might 
 rouse her awful lord and master, racked her invention for 
 what she should say; and at last, with "bated breath'' 
 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 catont 
 Bay that — " 
 
 When O'Grady gruffly broke in with, ^' You'd better ask 
 him, does he love teetotum." 
 
 " I thought you could recommend me the best establish- 
 ment in the metropolis, Mr. Furloug, for buying shuttle- 
 cocksj" continued the lady, unmindful of- the interruption.
 
 HAKDY AKDT. 161 
 
 ** You had better ask him where you can get mouse- 
 traps/' growled O'Grady. 
 
 Mrs. O'Grady was silent^ and 'Grady, whose rage had 
 now assumed its absurd 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. 'Grady was silent, and the Misses 
 O'Grady cast fearful sidelong glances at " Pa," whose 
 strange irritation always bespoke 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 the mantel- 
 piece to a low smothered wlaistle of some very obscure tune, 
 which was suddenly stopped to say to Furlong, very 
 abruptly — 
 
 " So Egan diddled you?" 
 
 " Why, he certainly, as I conceive, pwacticed, or I 
 might say, in short — he — a — in fact — " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said O'Grady, cutting short Furlong's hum- 
 ming 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 jumped over the moon — who was 
 there?" 
 
 " A Mister Dawson." 
 
 "Phew!" ejaculated O'Grady with a doleful whistle; 
 " Dick the Devil! You are in nice hands! All up with us 
 — up with us — 
 
 Up, up, up. 
 And here we go down, down, down, down, derry downl 
 
 Oh, m.urther!" 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, and be — !" O'Grady swallowed a curse when 
 he remembered he was a clergyman. " The enemy's camp 
 — not hia principles! Oh, Bermingham, Bermingham— 
 BriVnmagem, Brummagem, Sheffield, Wolverhampton— 
 Morth^r! Any one else? Was Durfy there?"
 
 162 liAHDT ANDT. 
 
 *' No," said Furlong; *' but there was an odd pe'son, 
 whose name wymes to his — as you seem fond of wymoa, 
 Mister O'Gwady." 
 
 *' What!" said O'Grady, quickly, and firing his eyes on 
 Furlong; " Murphy?" 
 
 "Yes. Miste' Muffy." 
 
 0' Grady gave a more doleful whistle than before, and 
 banging the spoon faster than ever, exclaimed again, 
 *' Murphy! then I'll tell you what it is; do you see that?" 
 and he held up the spoon before Furlong, who, being asked 
 the same question several times, confessed he did see the 
 spoon. " Then I'll tell you what it is," said O'Grady 
 again, " 1 wouldn't give you fJtat for the election;" and, 
 with a disdainful jerk, he threw the spoon into the fire, 
 after which he threw himself back in his chair with an ap- 
 pearance of repose, while he glanced fiercely up at the 
 ceiling, and indulged in a very low whistle indeed. One 
 of the girls stole softly roimd to the fire and gently took 
 up the tongs to recover the 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; the devil 
 burn 'em all — E-gan, Murphy, and all o' them ! What do 
 you stand there for, with the tongs in your hands, like a 
 hair-dresser, or a stuck pig? 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 did not dare to utter a word; 'Grady continued 
 his gaze on the ceiling and his whistle; and Furlong, very 
 uncomfortable and much more astonished, after sitting in 
 silence for some time, thought a retreat the best move he 
 could make, and intimated his wish to retire. 
 
 Mrs. 0' Grady gently suggested it was yet early; which 
 Furlong acknowledged, but pleaded his extreme fatigue 
 after a day of great exertion. 
 
 " I suppose you were canvassing," said 'Grady, with 
 a wicked grin. 
 
 " Ce'tainly not; they could sca'cely pwesume on such a 
 thing as that, I should think, in my pwesence." 
 
 " Then what fatigued you? — eh?'* 
 
 " Salmon-fishing, sir." 
 
 *' What!" exclaimed 0' Grady, opening his fierce eyes, 
 and turning suddenly round. " Salmon-fishing! Where 
 the d — 1 were you salmon-fisliing?"
 
 HAXBY AXDT. 1^3 
 
 ti 
 
 In the wiver, close by here. " 
 
 The ladies now all stared ; but Furlong advanced a vehe- 
 ment assurance, in answer to their looks of wonder, that 
 he had taken some very fine salmon indeed. 
 
 The girls could not suppress their laughter; and 
 O'Grady, casting a look of mingled rage and contempt on 
 the fisherman, merely uttered the ejaculation, " Oh, 
 Moses I" and threw himself back in his chair; but starting 
 up a moment after, he rang the bell violently, " What do 
 you want, my dear?" said his poor wife, venturing to lift 
 her eyes, and speaking in the humblest tone — '"' what do 
 you want?'' 
 
 " Some broiled bones!"' said O'Grady, very much like 
 an ogre; " I want something to settle my stomach after 
 what I've heard, for, by the powers of ipecacuanha, 'tis 
 enough to make a horse sick — sick, by the powers! shiver- 
 ing all over like a dog in a wet sack. I must have broiled 
 bones and hot punch !' ' 
 
 Tlie 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 mmit I heerd the bell." 
 
 ''Hold your tongue! who bid you talk? The devil fly 
 away with you! and you'U 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 devil with you! get some broiled bones — hot 
 water and tumblers — don't forget the whisky — and pepper 
 them well. Mind, hot — everything hot — screeching hot. 
 Be off, now, and make haste— mind, make haste!" 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the servant, whipping out of the room 
 with celerity, and thankuig Heaven when he had the door 
 between him and his savage master. When he got to the 
 kitchen, he told the cook to make haste, if ever she made 
 haste in her life, " for there's owld Danger upstairs in the 
 divil's temper, God bless us!" said Mick. 
 
 " Faix, he's always that," said the cook, scurrying acrosa 
 the kitchen for the gridiron. 
 
 ''Oh! but he's beyant all to-night," said Mick; "1 
 thuik he'll murther that chap upstairs before he stops."
 
 164 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 ** Oh, wirra! wirra!" cried the cook; *' there's the fire 
 not bright, bad luck to it, and he wantin' a brile!'* 
 
 " Bright or not bright," said Mick, *' make haste I'd 
 advise you, or he'll have your life." 
 
 The bell rang violently. 
 
 " There, do you hear him tattherin'?" said Mick, rush- 
 ing upstairs, 
 
 " I thought it was tay they wor takin'," said Larry 
 Hogan, who Avas sitting in the chimney-corner, smoking. 
 
 " So they are," said the cook. 
 
 " Then, I su^opose, briled bones is genteel?" 
 
 " Oh, no; it's not for tay, at all, they want them; it's 
 only ould Danger himself. Whenever he's in a rage, he 
 ates briled bones. " 
 
 '' Faith, they are a brave cure for anger," said Larry; 
 " I wouldn't be angry myself, if I had one." 
 
 Down rushed Mick, to hurry the cook — bang, twang! 
 went the bell as he spoke. " 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 smoken!" said Mick. 
 
 " No matther," said the cook, shaking her red elbow 
 furiously; "I'll smother 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 0' Grady 
 below, he had been grilling Furlong for himself above. In 
 one of the pauses of the storm, the victim ventured to sug- 
 gest to his tormentor that all the mischief that had arisen 
 might have been avoided, if O'Grady had met him at the 
 village, as he requested of him in one of his letters. 
 O'Grady denied all knowledge of such a request, and after 
 some queries about certain portions of the letter, it became 
 manifest it had miscarried. 
 
 "There!" said O'Grady; "there's a second letter 
 astray; I'm certain they put my letters astray on purpose. 
 There's a plot in the post-office against mc; by this and 
 that, I'll have an inquiry. I wish all the post-offices in the 
 world were blown up; and all the postmasters hanged, post- 
 masters-general and all — I do — by the 'ternal war, I do — • 
 and all the mail coaches in the world ground to powder,
 
 HAK-DY ANDY. 1 05 
 
 and the roads they go on into the bargain— devil a use in 
 them but to carry bad news over the universe — for all the 
 letters with ajiy good in them are lost; and if there's a 
 money inclosure in one, that's cure to be robbed. Blow 
 the post-office, I say — blow it, and sink it!" 
 
 It was at this moment Mick entered with the broiled 
 bones, and while he was in the room, placing glasses on the 
 table, and making the necessary arrangements for making 
 " screeching hot punch,-" he heard O'Grady and Furlong 
 talking about the two lost letters. 
 
 On his descent to the kitchen, the cook was spreading a 
 bit of supper there, in which Andy was to join, he having 
 just completed some applications of brown paper and vine 
 gar to the bruises received in his fall. Larry Hogan, too, 
 was invited to share in the repast; and it was not the first 
 time, by many, that Larry quartered on the Squire. In- 
 deed, many a good larder was opened to Larry Hogan ; he 
 held a ver}' deejj interest in the regards of all the female 
 domestics over the country, not on the strength of his per- 
 sonal charms, for Larry had a hanging lip, a snub nose, a 
 low forehead, a large ugly head, whose scrubby grizzled hair 
 grew round the crown somewhat in the form of a priest's 
 tonsure. Xot on the strength of his gallantry, for Larry 
 was always talking morality and making sage reflections, 
 while he supplied the womankind with bits of lace, rolls of 
 ribbon, and now and then silk stockings. He always had 
 some plausible story of how they happened to come in his 
 way, for Larry was not a regular peddler; carrying no box, 
 he drew his chance treasures from the recesses of very deep 
 pockets contrived in various parts of his attire. No one 
 asked Larry how he came by such a continued supply of 
 natty articles, and if they had, Larry would not have told 
 them; for he was a very '' close " man, as well as a " civil- 
 spoken," under which character he was first introduced to 
 the reader on the memorable night of Andy's destructive 
 adventure in his mother's cabin. Larry Hogan was about 
 as shrewd a fellow as any in the whole country, and while 
 no one could exactly make out what he was, or how he 
 made the two ends of his year meet, he knew nearly as 
 much of every one's affairs as they did themselves; in the 
 phrase of the country, he was '' as 'cute as a fox, as cloBe 
 as wax, and as deep as a draw-well.'* 
 
 The supper-party sat down iu the kitcheiij ^d between
 
 166 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 every three mouthfuls poor Mick could get, he was obliged 
 to canter upstairs at the call of the fiercely rung bell. Ever 
 and anon, as he returned, he bolted his allowance with an 
 ejaculation, sometimes pious, sometimes the reverse, on the 
 hard fate of attending such a " born devil," as he called 
 the Squire. 
 
 " Why he's worse nor ever to-night," says the cook. 
 *' "What ails him at all — what is it all about?"' 
 
 " Oh, he's blackguardin' and blastin' away about that 
 quare, slhik-lookin' chap, upstairs, goin' to Squire Egan's 
 instead of comin' here. " 
 
 " That was a bit o' your handy work/' said Larry, with 
 a grim smile at Andy. 
 
 "And then," said Mick, "he's swearin' by all the 
 murthers in the world agen the whole counthry, about 
 lome letther was stole out of the j^ost-office by somebody." 
 Andy's hand was in the act of raising a mouthful to his 
 lips, when these words were uttered; his hand fell, and his 
 mouth remained open. Larry Hogau had his eye on him 
 at the moment. 
 
 " He swares he'll have someone 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 piece of fat bacon, wiping his mouth 
 on the sleeve of his livery, and running upstairs. 
 
 " Misses Cook, ma'am," said Andy, shoving back his 
 chair from the table; " thank you, ma'am, for your good 
 supper. I think J'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 Hke a fast 
 than a feast," said the cook, " and it's not Lent." 
 
 " It's not lent, sure enough," said Larry Ho^an, with 
 a sly grin; " it's not lent, tor 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 Good Friday Lent." 
 
 " Faix, every Friday is good Friday that a man gets his 
 supper," said Larry. 
 * "Well J you will be goin' on, Misther Hogan/' said tba
 
 HAXDY ANDY. Kt7 
 
 cook. '' Oh, but you're a witty man; but Td rather have 
 a yard of your lace, any day, 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, point- 
 ing to Andy, who, hat in hand, was quitting the kitchen. 
 
 " Faix an' he mustn't go," said the cook; " there's two 
 words to that bargain;" and she closed the door, and put 
 her back against it. 
 
 " My mother's expectin^ me, ma'am," said Andy. 
 
 " Troth, 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 my kitchen? — you must take a dhrop be- 
 fore you go; besides the dogs outside the place would ate 
 you onless there was some one they knew along wid you : 
 and sure, if a dog bit you, you couldn' dhrink wather af ther, 
 let alone a dhrop o' beer, or a thrifle o' sper'ts: isn't that 
 true, Misther Hogan?" 
 
 "Indeed an' it is, ma'am," answered Larry; " no one 
 can dhrink afther a dog bites them, and that's the rayson 
 that the larn'd fackleties calls the disaise \i\gh.-dhry — " 
 
 " High-dhry what?" asked the cook. 
 
 " That's what I'm thinkin' of," said Larry. " High- 
 dhry — high-dhry — something. ' ' 
 
 " There's liigh-dhry snuff," said the cook. 
 
 "Oh, no — no, no, ma'am!" said Larry, waving his 
 hand and shaking his head, as if unwilling to be interrupt- 
 ed in endeavoring to recall 
 
 " Some fleeting remembrance;" 
 
 '* high-dhry — ^po — po — something about po; faith, it's not 
 unlike popery," said Larry. 
 
 "Don't say popery," cried the cook; "it's a dirty 
 word! Say Eoman Catholic when you sj^ake of the faith. " 
 
 "Do you think /would undhervalue the faith?" said 
 Larry, casting up his eyes. " Oh, Missis Mulligan, you 
 know little of me; d'ye you think I would undhervalue what 
 is my hojDC, past, present and to come? — what makes 
 our hearts light when our lot is heavy? — what makes us 
 love our neighbor as ourselves?" 
 
 " Indeed, Misther Hogan," broke in the cook, " I never 
 knew any one fonder of calling in on a neighbor than your- 
 self, particularly abut dinner-time — " 
 
 "What makes us," said Larry, who would woHet the
 
 168 HANDT ANDt. 
 
 cook interrupt his outpouring of pious eloquence — " wliat 
 makes us fierce in prosperity to our friends, and meek iu 
 adversity to our inimies?''^ 
 
 "Oh! Misther HoganI" said the cook, blessing herself. 
 
 " What puts the leg undher you when you are in 
 throuble? why, your faith: what makes you below desait, 
 and above reproach, and on neither side of nothin'?^' Larry 
 slai^ped the table like a prime minister, and there was no 
 opposition. " Oh, Missis Mulligan, do you think I would 
 desaive or bethray my fellow-ciayture? Oh, no — I would 
 not wrong the child unborn " — and this favorite phrase of 
 Larry (and other rascals) was, and is, unconsciously true; 
 for people, most generally, must be bom before they can 
 be much wronged. 
 
 " Oh, Missis Mulligan, ^^ said Larry, with a devotional 
 appeal of his eyes to the ceiling, "be at war witli sin, and 
 you'll be at paice with yourself!" 
 
 Just as Larry wound up his pious peroration, Mick 
 shoved in the door, against which the cook supported her- 
 self, and told Andy the Squire said he should not leave the 
 Hall that night. 
 
 Andy looked aghast. 
 
 Again Larry Hogan's eyes was on him. 
 
 "Sure I can come back here in the mornin','' said 
 Andy, who at the moment he spoke was conscious of the 
 i)itention of being some forty miles out of the place before 
 dawn, if he could get away. 
 
 " When the Squire says a thing, it must be done," said 
 Mick. " You must sleep here. ■" 
 
 "And pleasant dhrames to you," said Larry, who saw 
 Andy wince under his kindly 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 myself to-night, for it would be too far to go 
 home. Good-night, Mrs. Mulligan — ^good-night, Micky — 
 come along, Andy. ' ' 
 
 Andy followed Hogan. They had to cross a yard to 
 reach the stables; the night was clear, and the waning 
 moon shed a steady though not a bright light on the in- 
 closure. Hogan cast a lynx eye around him to see if the 
 coast "Was clear, and satisfying himself it was, he laid his 
 hand impressively on Andy's arm as they reached the
 
 HANDY ANDY. 169 
 
 middle of the yard, and setting Andy's face right against 
 the moonlight, so that he might watch the slightest ex- 
 pression, he paused for a moment before he spoke; and 
 when he spoke, it was in a low mysterious whisper — low, 
 as if he feared the night breeze might betray it — and the 
 words were few, but potent, which he uttered; they were 
 these: " Who robbed the pod-o-ffice?" 
 
 The result quite satisfied Hogan; and he knew how to 
 turn his knowledge to account. 'Grady and Egan were 
 no longer friends; a political contest was pending; letters 
 were missing; Andy had been Egan's servant; and Larry 
 Hogan had enough of that mental chemical power, which, 
 from a few raw facts, unimportant separately, could make 
 a combination of great value. 
 
 Soon after breakfast at Merryvale the following morn- 
 ing, Mrs. Egan wanted 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 see her 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 ' The Voices,^ 'tis so sweet, and must be 
 felt by those who, like me, have a happy home. " 
 
 Fanny struck a few notes of a wild and peculiar synt* 
 phony, and sung her sister's favorite. 
 
 THE VOICE WITHIN. 
 
 You ask the dearest place on earth 
 
 Whose simple joys can never die; 
 'Tis the holy pale of the happy hearth. 
 Where love doth light each beaming eye. 
 With snowy shroud 
 Let tempest 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, 1 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 I
 
 1?0 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 When in the gale 
 
 Poor Hope's white sail 
 No haveu can for shelter win. 
 
 Fate's darkest skies 
 
 The heart defies 
 Whose still small voice is sweet within. 
 
 O heavenly sound! 
 
 'Mid the tempests roimd, 
 That voice so sweet within ! 
 
 Egan had entered as Fauny was singing the second 
 verse; he wore a troubled air, which his wife at first did 
 not remark. " Is not that a sweet song, Edward?" said 
 she. '* No one ought to hke it more than you, for your 
 home is your happiness, and no one has a clearer con- 
 
 science." 
 
 E^an kissed her gently, and thanked her for her good 
 opinion, and asked her 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 Hogan walking from the house, 
 down the avenue. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 If the morning brought uneasiness and distrust to Mer- 
 ryvale, it dawned not more brightly on Neck-or-nothing 
 Hall. The discord of the former night was not prepara- 
 tory to harmony on the morrow, and the parties separating 
 in ill-humor from the drawing-room were not likely to look 
 forward with much pleasure to the breakfast-parlor. But 
 before breakfast sleep was to intervene — that is, for those 
 who could get it — and the unfortunate Furlong was not 
 amongst the number. Despite the very best feather bed Mrs. 
 0' Grady had selected for him from amongst her treasures, 
 it was long before slumber weighed down his feverish eye- 
 lids; and even then, it was only to have them queued again 
 in some convulsive start of a troubled dream. All his ad- 
 ventures of the last four-and-twenty hours were jumbled 
 together in strange confusion — now on a lonely road, M'hile 
 dreading the assaults of robbers, his course was interrupted 
 pot by a highwayman, but a river, whereon embarking, h^
 
 HAN*t)y AXDT. 17l 
 
 began to catch salmon in a most surprisingly rapid man 
 ner, but just as he was about to haul in his fish it escaped' 
 from the hook, and the salmon, making wry faces at him, 
 very impertinently exclaimed, " Sure, you wouldn't catch 
 a poor, ignorant, Irish salmon?*' He then snapped his 
 pistols at the insolent fish — then his carriage breaks down, 
 and he is suddenly transferred from the river to the road ; 
 thieves seize upon him and bind his hands, but a charming 
 young lady with pearly teeth frees him from his bonds, and 
 conducts him to a castle where a party is engaged in play- 
 ing cards; he is invited to join, and as his cards are dealt 
 to him he anticipates triumph in the game, but by some 
 malicious fortune his trumps 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 es- 
 capes along a dark road pursued by his spoilers, who would 
 take his life, and a horrid cry of " broiled bones " rings in 
 his ears as he flies; he is seized and thrown into a river, 
 where, as he sinks, shoals of salmon raise a chorus of re- 
 joicing, and he wakes out of the agonies of dream-drown- 
 ing to find himself nearly suffocated by sinking into the 
 feathery depths of Mrs. O'Grady's pet bed. After a night 
 passed in such troubled visions the unfortunate Furlong 
 awoke unrefreshed, and, with bitter recollections of the 
 past and mournful anticipations of the future, arose and 
 prepared to descend to the parlor, where a servant told him 
 breakfast was ready. 
 
 His morning greeting by the family was not of that 
 hearty and cheerful character which generally distinguishes 
 the house of an Irish squire; for though 0' Grady was not 
 so savage as on the preceding evening, he was rather gruff', 
 and the ladies dreaded being agreeable when the master's 
 temper blew from a stormy point. Furlong could not help 
 regretting at this moment the lively breakfast-table at 
 Merryvale, nor avoid contrasting to disadvantage the two 
 Miss O'Gradys with Fanny Dawson. Augusta, the eldest, 
 inherited the prominent nose of her father, and something 
 of his upper lip too, beard included; and these, unfortu- 
 nately, were all she was ever likely to inherit from him ; 
 and Charlotte, the younger, had the same traits in a mod- 
 erated degree. Altogether, he thought the girls the plain- 
 est he had ever seen, and the liouse more horrible than 
 anything that was ever imagined; and he sighed a faint
 
 172 HAXBY ANDY. 
 
 fashionable sigh, to think his p9litical duties had expelled 
 him from a paradise to send him 
 
 " The other way — the other wayl" 
 
 Four boys and a little girl sat at a side-table, where a ca- 
 pacious jug of milk, large bowls, and a lusty loaf were laid 
 under contribution amidst a suppressed but continuous 
 wrangle, which was going forward amongst the juniors; 
 and a snappish " I will " or " I won't/' a " Let me 
 alone'' or a " Behave yourself, " occasionally was distin- 
 guishable above the murmur of dissatisfaction. A little 
 squall from the little girl at last made O'Grady turn round 
 and swear that, if they did not behave themselves, he'd 
 turn them all out. 
 
 " It is all Cloggy, sir," said the girl. 
 
 " ISTo, it's not, you dirty little thing," cried George, 
 whose name was thus euphoniously abbreviated. 
 
 " He's putting — " said the girl, with excitement. 
 
 *' Ah, you dirty little — " interrupted Goggy, in. alow, 
 contemptuous tone. 
 
 " He's putting, sir — " 
 
 *' Whisht! you young devils, will you?" cried O'Grady, 
 and. a momentary silence prevailed ; but the little girl sniv- 
 elled and put up her bib* to wipe her eyes, while Goggy 
 put out his tongue at her. Many minutes had not elapsed 
 when the girl again whimpered: 
 
 " Call to Goggy, papa; he's jjutting some mouse's tails 
 into my milk, sir." 
 
 *' Ah, you dirty little tell-tale!" cried Goggy, reproach- 
 fully; " a tell-tale is worse than a mouse's tail. " 
 
 O'Grady jumped up, gave Master Goggy a box on the 
 ear, and then caught him by the aforesaid appendage to 
 his head, and as he led him to the door by the same, Goggy 
 bellowed lustily, and when ejected from the room howled 
 down the passage more like a dog than a human being. 
 O'Grady, on resuming his seat, told Polsheef (the little 
 girl) she was always getting Goggy a beating, and she ivas 
 & little cantankerous cat and a dirty tell-tale, as Goggy 
 said. Amongst the ladies and Furlong the breakfast went 
 forward with coldness and constraint, and all were glad 
 when it was nearly over. At this period, Mrs. O'Grady 
 
 *• Piuafore. f Mary,
 
 HANDY AJfDT. 173 
 
 half filled a large bowl from the tea-urn, and then added 
 to it some weak tea, and Miss O'Grady collected all the 
 broken bread about the table on a plate. Just then Fur- 
 long ventured to "twouble" Mrs. O^Grady for a leetle 
 more tea, and before he handed her his cup he would have 
 emptied the sediment in the slop-basin, but by mistake he 
 popped it into the large bowl of mi i>erable Mrs. O'Grady 
 had prepared. Furlong begged a thousand pardons, but 
 Mrs. O'Grady assured him it was of no consequence, as it 
 was only for the tutor! 
 
 O'Grady, having swallowed his breakfast as fast as possi- 
 ble, left the room ; the whole party soon followed, and on 
 arriving in the drawing-room, the young ladies became 
 more agreeable when no longer under the constraint of 
 their ogre father. Furlong talked slip-slop commonplaces 
 with them; they spoke of the country and the weather, and 
 he of the city; they assured him that the dews were heavy 
 in the evening, and that the grass was so green in that part 
 of the country; he obliged them with the interesting in- 
 formation, that the LifCey ran through Dublin, but that the 
 two sides of the city communicated by means of bridges — 
 that the houses were built of red brick generally, and that 
 the hall-doors were painted in imitation of mahogany; to 
 which the young ladies responded, "La, how odd!" and 
 added, that in the country people mostly painted their hall- 
 doors green, to match the grass. Furlong admitted the 
 propriety of the proceeding, and said he liked uniformity. 
 The young ladies quite coincided in his opinion, declared 
 they all were so fond of uniformity, and added that one of 
 their carriage horses was blind. Furlong admitted the ex- 
 cellence of the observation, and said, in a very soft voice, 
 that Love was blind also. 
 
 " Exactly," said Miss O'Grady, " and that's the reason 
 we call our horse Cupid I" 
 
 " How clever!" replied Furlong. 
 
 '' And the mare that goes in harness with him — she's an 
 ugly creature, to be 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 and told Furlong she would show him over 
 tJie houisG if he pleased. He ussented, of course^ and uuder
 
 174 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 her guidance went through many apartments: those on th« 
 basement story were hurried through rapidly, but when 
 Mrs. 0' Grady got bim upstairs, amongst the bedrooms, she 
 dwelt on the excellence of every apartment. " This I need 
 not show you, Mr. Furlong — 'tis your own; I hope you 
 slept well last night?'' This was the twentieth time the 
 question had been asked. " Xow, here is another, Mr. 
 Furlong; the window looks out on the lawn: so nice to look 
 out on a lawn, I think, in the morning, when one gets up', 
 so refreshing and wholesome! Oh! you are looking at the 
 stain in the ceiling, but we couldn't get the roof repaired 
 in time before the winter set in last year; and Mr. O'Grady 
 thought we might as well have the painters and slaters 
 together in the summer — and the house does want paint, 
 indeed, but we all hate the smell of paint. See here, Mr. 
 Furlong," and she turned up a quilt as she spoke; " just 
 put your hand into that bed ; did you ever feel a finer bed?" 
 
 Furlong declared he never did. 
 
 ** Oh, you don't know how to feel a bed! put your hand 
 mto it — well, that way;'' and Mrs. 'Grady plunged her 
 arm up to the elbow in the object of her admiration. Fur- 
 long poked the bed, and was all laudation. 
 
 " Isn't it beautiful?" 
 
 *' Cha'ming!" replied Furlong, trpng to pick off the 
 bits of down W'hich clung to his coat. 
 
 " Oh, never mind the do^vai — you shall be brushed after; 
 I always show my beds, Mr. Furlong. Now, here's 
 another;" and so she went on, dragging poor Furlong up 
 and down the house, and he did not get out of her clutches 
 till he had poked all the beds in the establishment. As 
 soon as that ceremonv was over, and that his coat had 
 undergone the jirocess of brushing, he wished to take a 
 stroll, and was going forth, when Mrs. 'Grady interrupt- 
 ed him, with the assurance that it would not be safe unless 
 some one of the family became his escort, for the dogs 
 were very fierce — Mr. 'Grady was so fond of dogs, and so 
 proud of a particular breed of dogs he had, so remarkable 
 for their courage — he had better wait till the boys had done 
 their Latin lesson. So Furlong was marched back to the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 There the younger daughter addressed him with a mes- 
 sage from her grandmamma, who wished to have the pleas- 
 ure of iiaaking his acc^uaiutance, and hoped ho would piy/
 
 HAXBY AKDY. 175 
 
 her a visit. Furlong, of course, was *' quite delighted," 
 and '* too happy," and the young lady, thereupon, led him 
 to the old lady's apartment. 
 
 The old dowager had been a beauty in her youth — one 
 of the belles of the Irish court, and when she heard " a 
 gentleman from Dublin Castle " was in the house she de- 
 sired to see him. To see any one from the seat of her 
 juvenile joys and triumjjhs would have given her delight, 
 were it only 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-jjorch, 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 tliat 
 seat of government and courtly j^leasure was, indeed, some- 
 tliing to make her happy. 
 
 On Furlong being introduced, the old lady received him 
 very courteously, at the same time with a certain air thai, 
 betokened she was accustomed to deference. Her com- 
 manding figure was habited in a loose moruing wrapper, 
 made of gray flannel; but while this gave evidence she 
 studied her 2)ersonal comfort rather than appearance, a bit 
 of pretty silk handkerchief about the neck, very knowingly 
 displayed, and a becoming ribbon in her cap showed slie 
 did not quite neglect her good looks; it did not require a 
 vei'y quick eye to see, besides, a small touch of rouge on 
 the cheek which age had depressed, and the assistance of 
 Indian ink to the eyebrow which time had thinned and 
 faded. A glass filled with llowers stood on the table before 
 her, and a quantity of books lay scattered about; a guitar 
 — not the Spanish instrument now in fashion, but the En- 
 glish one of some eighty years ago, strung with wire and 
 tuned in thirds — hung by a bhie ribbon beside her; a corner 
 cupboard, fantastically carved, bore some curious specimens 
 of china on one side of the room; while, in strange discord 
 with what was really scarce and beautiful, the commonest 
 Dutch cuckoo-clock was suspended on the opposite wall; 
 close beside her chair stood a very pretty little Japan table, 
 bearing a looking-glass with numerous drawers fi-amed in 
 the same material; and while Furlong seated himself, the 
 old lady cast a sidelong glance at the mirror, and her Muth- 
 5red fingers played with the fresh ribbon. 
 
 " You nave recentlv anived from the Castle, sir, I 
 understand?"
 
 176 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 •• Quite wecently, mailam — awived last night." 
 
 " I hope his Excellency is well — not that I have the 
 honor of his acquaiiitance, but I love the lord lieutenant — 
 and the aids-de-camp are so nice, and the little pages! — 
 put a marker in that book/' said she, in an undertone, to 
 her granddaughter, " page seventy-four — ah, "she resumed 
 in a higher tone, " that reminds me of the Honorable Cap- 
 tain Wriggle, who commanded a seventy-four, and danced 
 with me at the Castle the evening Lady Legge sprained 
 her ankle. By the bye, are there any seventy-fours in 
 Dublin now?'' 
 
 " I wather think," said Furlong, " tlie bay is not suffi- 
 ciently deep for line-of-battle ships. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, dear, yes I I have seen quantities of seventy-foura 
 there; though, indeed, I am not quite sure if it wasn't at 
 Splithead. Give me the smelling salts, Charlotte, love; mine 
 does ache indeed! How subjecit the dear Ducliess of Jut- 
 land was to heiidaches; you did not know the Duchess of 
 Kutland? no, to be sure, what am I thinking of? you're 
 too young; but those were the charming days! You have 
 iieard, of course, the duchess' bon mot in reply to the com- 
 pliment of Lord , but I must not mention his name, 
 
 because there was some scandal about them; but the gen- 
 tleman said to the duchess — I must tell you she Avas Isa- 
 bella, Duchess of Kutland — and he said, ' Isabelle ii^ a 
 helle,' to which the duchess replied, ' Isabelle ^vaa a belle. ' " 
 
 " Vewy neat, indeed!" said Furlong. 
 
 " Ah! poor thing," said the dowager, with a sigh, *' she 
 was beginning to be a little passee then;" she looked in 
 the glass herself, and added, "Dear me, how pale I am 
 this morning!" and pulling out one of the little drawers 
 from the Japan looking-glass, she took out a pot of rouge 
 and heightened the color on her cheek. The old lady not 
 only heightened her own color, but that of the witnesses — 
 of Furlong particularly, who was qiiite 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 of literature, I hope, sir?'* 
 
 " Extwemely," replied Furlong. 
 
 *' As a statesman," continued the old lady — to whom 
 Furlong made a deep obeisance at the word '* statesman "
 
 HANDT ASDY. 177 
 
 — " as a statesman, of course your reading lies in the more 
 solid department; but if you ever do condescend to read a 
 romance,, there is the sweetest thing I ever met I am just 
 Qow engaged in; it is called ' The Blue Robber of the Pink 
 Mountain/ I have not come to the pink mountain yet, but 
 the blue robber is the most perfect character. The author, 
 however, is guilty of a strange forgetfulness; he begins by 
 speaking of the robber as of the middle age, and soon after 
 describes him as a young man. Xow, how could a young 
 man be of the middle age?'^ 
 
 " It seems a stwange inaccuwacy,^' lisped Furlong. 
 " But poets sometimes j^wesume on the pwivilege they ha Vb 
 of doing what they please with their hewoes.''^ 
 
 '^ Quite true, sir. And talking of heroes, I hope the 
 Knights of St. Patrick are well — I do admire them so 
 much! His so interesting to see their banners and helmets 
 lianging up in St. Patrick's Cathedral, that venerable pile! 
 with the loud peal of the organ — sublime — isn't it? the 
 banners almost tremble in the vibration of the air to the 
 loud swell of the ' A-a-a-men I' the very banners seem to 
 wave * Amen I' Oh, that swell is so fine! I think they 
 are fond of swells in the choir; the}^ have a good effect, 
 and some of the young men are so good-looking! 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?" con- 
 tinued the old lady. 
 
 " Ye-s, I think St. Paytwick's a vewy amusing place of 
 worship." 
 
 " Amusing," said the old lady, half offended. "In- 
 spiring, you mean ; not that I think the sermon interesting, 
 but the anthem ! oh, the anthem, it is so fine — and the old 
 banners, those are my delight — the dear banners covered 
 with dust!" 
 
 '• Oh, as far as that goes," said Furlong, " they have 
 impwoved the cathedwal vewy much, fo' they whitewashed 
 it inside, and put up noo banners." 
 
 " Whitewash and new banners!" exclaimed the indig- 
 nant dowager; " the Goths! to remove an atom of the 
 romantic dust! I would not have let a house-maid into the 
 place for the world! But *iiey have left the antliem, I 
 hope?"
 
 178 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " Oh, yes, the anthem is continued, but with a small 
 diffewence: they used to sing the anthem befo' the se'mon, 
 but the people used to go away aftc' the anthem and neve' 
 ^.vaited fo' the se'mon, and the bishop, who is pwoud of 
 his pweaching, orde'ed the anthem to be postponed till afte' 
 the se'mon, " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said the old lady, " I remember, now, hear- 
 ing of that, and some of the wags in Dublin saying the 
 bishop was jealous of old Sjiray;* and didn't somebody 
 write something called ' Pulpit versus Organloft '?" 
 
 *' I cawn't say/' 
 
 " Well, I am glad you like the cathedral, sir; but I wish 
 they had not dusted the banners; I used to look at them 
 all the time the service went on — they Avere so romantic! I 
 suppose you go there every Sunday?" 
 
 ' I go in the summe','' said Furlong; " the place is so 
 cold in the winte'/' 
 
 " 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 enough to warm you. You are 
 fond of music, I perceive?" 
 
 " Vewy!" 
 
 " I play the guitar — (citra — cithra — or iute, as it is 
 called by the poets). I sometimes sing, too. Do you 
 know ' The lass with the delicate air?' a sweet ballad of the 
 old school — my instrument once belonged to Dolly Bland, 
 the celebrated Mrs. Jordan now — ah, there, sir, is a brill- 
 iant specimen of Irish mirthfulness — what a creature she 
 is! Hand me my lute, child," she said to her granddaugh- 
 ter; and having adjusted the blue ribbon over her shoulder, 
 and twisted the tuning-pegs, and thrummed upon the wires 
 for some time, she made a prelude and cleared her throat 
 to sing " The lass with the delicate air," when the loud 
 whirring of the clock-Avheels interrupted her, and she 
 looked up with great delight at a little door in the top of 
 the clock, which suddenly sprung open, and out popped a 
 w^ooden bird. 
 
 " Listen to my bird, sir," said the old lady. 
 
 The sound of " cuckoo " was repeated twelve times, the 
 
 * One of the finest tenors of the l^t ceptury.
 
 HANDY AXDY. 17f) 
 
 bird popped in again, the little" door closed, and the 
 mouotonous tick of the clock continued. 
 
 " That's my little bird, sir, that tells me secrets; and 
 now, sir, you must 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 the feathered songsters 
 of the grove? and after my sweet little warbler up there, I 
 dare not venture: but I will sing it for you to-morrow, 
 (xood-morning, sir. I am happy to have had the honor of 
 making your acquaintance.'' She bowed FurloHgout very 
 politely, and as her granddaughter was following, she said, 
 *' My love, you must not forget some seeds for my little 
 bird." Furlong looked ratJier surprised, for he saw no 
 bird but the one in the clock; the young lady marked his 
 expression, and as she closed the door she said, " You 
 must not mind grandmamma; 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 favor with their father, felt they 
 might treat him as ill as they pleased, and quiz him with 
 impunity. The first j^ortion of Furlong's penance consist- 
 ed in being dragged througii dirty stable-yards and out- 
 houses, and shown the various pets of all the parties; dogs, 
 jtigeons, rabbits, weasels, et ccBtera, were paraded, and 
 their qualities expatiated upon, till poor Fm-long was quite 
 weary of them, and expressed a desire to see the domain. 
 Horatio, the second boy, whose name was abbreviated to 
 Ratty, told him they must wait for Gusty, who was mend- 
 ing his spear. '' We're going to spear for eels,''' said the 
 boy; '' did you ever spear for eels?" 
 
 " I should think not,'-* said Furlong, with a knowing 
 smile, who suspected this was intended to be a second edi- 
 tion of quizzing a la mode dc sdumon. 
 
 '' You think I'm joking," said the boy, '' but it's famous 
 sport, I can tell you; but if you're tired of waiting here, 
 (Come along with me to the milliner's, and we can wait for 
 Ousty there." 
 
 While following the boy, who jumped along to the tune 
 pf a jig he was whittling, now and then changing the 
 whistle into a song to the same tune, with very odd words 
 indeed, and a burden of gibberish ending with " riddle- 
 .< )ddle-4ow/' Fui'long wondered what a milliner could have
 
 180 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 to do m such an esbiblishnicnt, and his wonder was not 
 lessened when his guide added, "The milhner is a queer 
 chap, and may he he'll tell us something funny." 
 Then the mdline' is a man?" said Furlong. 
 
 *' Yes/" said the boy, laughing; '' and he does not work 
 with needle and thread either." 
 
 They approached a small out-house as he sj)okej and the 
 sharp clinking of a hammer fell o)i tlie ear. Shoving open 
 a rickety door, the boy cried, " Well, Fogy, I've brought a 
 gentleman to see you. This is Fogy, the millin'^r, sir," 
 said he to Furlong, whose surprise was further increased, 
 when, in the person of the man called the milliner, he be- 
 held a tinker. 
 
 " What a strange jiack of people I have got amongst/* 
 thought Furlong. 
 
 The old tinker saw his surprise, and grinned at him. 
 " I suppose it was a nate young woman you thought you'd 
 see when he towld you he'd bring you to the milliner — ha! 
 ha! ha! Oh, they're nate lads, the Master O'Gradys; divil 
 a thing they call by the proper name, at all." 
 
 '' Yes, we do," said the boy, sharply; " we call our- 
 selves by our proper names. Ha! Fogy, I have you there." 
 
 " Divil a taste, as smart as you think 3'ourself, Masther 
 Eatty; you call yourselves gentlemen, and >ihat's not your 
 proper name." 
 
 Ratty, Avho was scraping triangles on the door with a 
 piece of broken brick, at once converted his pencil into a 
 missile, and let fly at the head of the tinker, who seemed 
 quite prepared for such a result, for, raising the kettle he 
 was mending, he caught the shot adroitly, and the brick 
 rattled harmlessly on the tin. 
 
 "Ha!" said the tinker, mockmgly, '* you missed me, 
 like your mammy's blessin';" and he pursued his work. 
 
 "What a very odd name he calls you," said Furlong, 
 addressing young 0' Grady. 
 
 " Eatty," said the boy. " Oh, yes, they call me Eatty, 
 short for Horatio. I was called Horatio after Lord Nelson, 
 because Lord Nelson^ s father was 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 man looked up and grinned, but said nothing. 
 
 " You'll know before long, I'll engage," said Ratty;
 
 HANDY ANDY. ISI 
 
 " 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 ^es, and mimicking 
 the voice of an old woman : 
 
 " So they call'd her, they call'd her. 
 The lass — the lass 
 
 With a deHcate air, 
 De — lick-it — lick-it — lick-it 
 The lass with a de — lickit air." 
 
 The young rascal made frightful mouths, and put out 
 his tongue every time he said " lick-it,'' and when he had 
 finished, asked Furlong, " Wasn't that the thing?" Fur- 
 long told him his grandmamma had been going to sing it, 
 but this pleasure had been deferred till to-morroWo 
 
 " Then you did not hear it?" said Ratty. 
 
 Furlong answered in the negative. 
 
 " Och! murder I 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," was the answer. Then turning to the tinker, he 
 said, " Have you any milliner work in hand. Fogy?" 
 
 " To be sure I have,"* answered the tinker; " who has 
 so good a right to know that as yourself: Throth, you've 
 little to do, I'm thinkin', when you ax that idle question. 
 Oh, you're nate lads! And would nothin* sarve you but 
 brakin' the weather-cock?" 
 
 *' Oh, 'twas such a nice cock-shot; ^twas impossible not 
 to have a shy at it,' ' said Ratty, chuckl.ng. 
 
 " Oh, you're nice lads!" still chimed in the tinker. 
 
 " Besides," said Ratty, " Gusty be'' me a bull-dog pup 
 against a rabbit, I could 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 oft'er* at anything, 
 I think, but an answer to your school-masther. Oh, a nate 
 lad you are — a nate lad! — a nice clargy you'll be, your riv- 
 ireuce. Oh, if you hit off the tin commandments as fast 
 as you hit off the tin weather-cock, it's a good man you'll 
 
 * A " fair offer " is a phrase amongst the Irish peasantry, mean 
 ing a successful aim.
 
 183 ^ANDY ANDY. 
 
 be — an' if I never had a headache till then, sure it's happy 
 rdbe!" 
 
 *' Hold your prate, old Growly,'" said Ratty; ** and why 
 don't you mend the weather-cock?" 
 
 " I must mend tlie kittle first— and a purty kittle you 
 made of it! — and would nothing sarve you but the best 
 kittle in the house to tie to the dog'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 I — he was a strange dog." 
 
 *' That makes no dilfer in the crulety. " 
 
 "Ah, bother! you old humbug!— who was it blackened 
 the rag- woman's eye? — ha! Fogy — ha! Fogy — dirty Fogy!" 
 
 " Go away, Masther liatty, you're too good, so you are, 
 your rivirince. Faix, I wondhor , his honor, the Squire, 
 doesn't murdher you sometimes." 
 
 '' He would, if he could catch us," replied Ratty, *' but 
 we run too fast for him, so divil thank him ! — and you, too. 
 Fogy — ha, old (Jrowly! Come along, Mr. Furlong, here's 
 Gusty — bad scran to you. Fogy!" and he slammed the 
 door as he quitted the tinker. 
 
 Gustavus, followed by two younger brothers, Theodore 
 and Godfrey (for O'Grady loved high-sounding names in 
 baptism, though they got twisted into such queer shapes in 
 family use), now led the way over the park toward the 
 river. Some fine timber they passed occasionally; but the 
 ax had manifestly been busy, and the w ood seemed thinned 
 rather from necessity than for improvement; the paths 
 were choked with weeds and fallen leaves, and the rank 
 moss added its evidence of neglect. The boys pointed out 
 anything they thought worthy of observation by the way, 
 such as the best places to find a hare, the most covered ap- 
 proach to the river to get a shot at wild ducks, or where 
 the best yoimg wood was to be found from whence to cut a 
 stick. On reaching their jioint of destination, which was 
 where the river was less rapid, and its banks sedgy and 
 thickly grown with flaggers and bulrushes, the sport of 
 spearing for eels commenced. Gusty first undertook the 
 task, and, after some vigorous plunges of his implement 
 into the water, he brought uj) the prey, wriggling between 
 its barbed prongs. Furlong was amazed, for he thought
 
 HANDY ANDY. 183 
 
 this, like the salmon-fishing, was intended as a quiz, and, 
 after a few more examples of Giisty's prowess, he under- 
 took the sport; a short time, however, fatigued his unprac- 
 ticed arm, and he relinquished the spear to Theodore, or 
 Tay, as they called him, and Tay shortly brought up his 
 fish, and thus, one after another, the boys, successful in 
 their sport, soon made the basket heavy. 
 
 Then, and not till then, they desired Furlong to carry 
 it; he declared he had no curiosity whatever in that line, 
 but the boys would not let him off so easy, and told him 
 the practice there was, that every one should take his share 
 in the dajr^s sport, and as he could not catch the fish he 
 should carry it. He attempted a parley, and suggested he 
 was only a visitor; but they only laughed at him — said that 
 might be a very good Dublin joke, but it would not pass in 
 the country. He then attempted laughingly to decline the 
 honor; but Ratty, turning round to a monstrous dog, 
 which hitherto had followed them, quietly said, " Here! 
 Bloodybones; here! boy! at him, sir! — make him do his 
 work, boy!" The bristhng savage made a low growl, and 
 fixed his eyes on Furlong, who attempted to remonstrate; 
 but he very soon gave that up, for another word from the 
 boys urged the dog to a howl and a crouch, preparatory to 
 a spring, and Furlong made no further resistance, but took 
 up the basket amid the uproarious laughter of the boys, 
 who continued their sport, adding every now and then to 
 the weight of Furlong's load; and whenever he lagged be- 
 hind, they cried out, " Come along, man- Jack I'' which 
 was the complimentary name they called him by for the 
 rest of the day. Furlong thought spearing for eels worse 
 sport than fishing for salmon, and Avas rejoiced when a 
 turn homeward was taken by the party; but his annoyances 
 were not yet ended. On their return, their route lay across 
 a plank of considerable length, which spanned a small 
 branch of the river; it had no central support, and conse- 
 quently sprung considerably to the foot of the passenger, 
 who was aft'orded no protection from handrail, or even a 
 swinging rop;, and this rendered its passage difficult to an 
 unpracticed person. When Furlong was told to make his 
 way across, he hesitated, and, after many assurances on his 
 part that he could not attempt it. Gusty said he would lead 
 him over in security, and took his hand for the purpose; 
 but when he had him just ia the ctjpter, he loosed himself
 
 184 HAXDY ANDY. 
 
 from Furlong's hold, and ran to the opposite side. While 
 Furlong was praying him to return, Ratty stole behind him 
 suflioiently far to have purchase enough on the plank, and 
 begun jumping till he made it spring too high for poor 
 Furlong to hold his footing any longer; so squatting on 
 the plank, he got astiide upon it, and held on with his 
 hands, every descending 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, Gog- 
 
 The three boys now began pelting large stones into the 
 river close beside Furlong, splashing him so thoroughly, 
 that he was wringing wet in five minutes. In vain Fur- 
 long shouted, " Young gentlemen! young gentlemen!'' 
 and, at last, when he threatened to complain to their fa- 
 ther, they recommenced worse than before, and vowed 
 they'd throw him into the stream if he did not promise to 
 be silent on the subject; for, to use their own words, if 
 they tuere beaten, they might as well duck him at once, 
 and have the " worth of their licking." At last, a com- 
 promise being effected, Furlong stood up to walk off the 
 })lank. "Remember," said Ratty, "you won't tell we 
 loised* you?" 
 
 T won't indeed," said Furlong; and he got safe to land. 
 
 But I will!" cried a voice from a neighboring wood ; 
 and Miss O'Grady appeared, surrounded by a crowd of 
 little pet-dogs. She shook her head in a threatening man- 
 ner at the offenders, and all the little dogs set up a yelp- 
 ing bark, as if to enforce their mistress' anger. The 
 snappish barking of the pets was returned by one hoarse bay 
 from " Bloodybones," which silenced the little dogs, as a 
 broadside from a seventy-four would dumfounder a flock 
 of privateers, and the boys returned the sister's threat by a 
 universal shout of " Tell-tale!" 
 
 " Go home, tell-tale!" they all cried; and with an action 
 equally simultaneous, they stooped one and all for pebbles, 
 and pelted Miss Augusta so vigorously, that she and her 
 dogs were obliged to run for it. 
 
 * A vulgarism for " hoiiited.'* 
 
 il
 
 HJLSDY ANDY. 18o 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Haying reconnted Furlong's out-door adventures, it is 
 necessary to say something of what was passing at Neck-or- 
 nothing'Hallin his absence. 
 
 O'Grady, on leaving the breakfast-table, retired to his 
 justice-room to transact business, a jirincipal feature m 
 which was the examination of Handy Andy, touching tlie 
 occurrences of the evening he drove Furlong toMerryvale: 
 for though Andy was clear of the charge for which he had 
 been taken into custody, namely, the murder of Furlong, 
 O'Grady thought he might have been a party to some con- 
 spiracy "^ to drive the stranger to the enemj's camp, and 
 therefore put him to the question very sharply. This ex- 
 amination he had set his heart upon; and reserving it as a 
 lonne, bouche, dismissed all preliminary cases in a very off- 
 hand manner, just as men carelessly swallow a few oysters 
 preparatory to dinner. 
 
 As for Andy, when he was summoned to the justice-room, 
 he made sure it was for the purpose of being charged with 
 robbing the post-office, and cast a sidelong glance at the 
 effigy of the man hanging on the wall, as he 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 a wrong house all the bother was made, his 
 heart was lightened of a heavy load, and he answered 
 briskly enough. The string oi question and reply ^as 
 certainly an entangled one, and left O'Grady as much puz- 
 zled as before whether Andy was stupid and innocent, or 
 too knowing to let himself be caught — and to this opinion 
 he clung at last. In the course of the inquiry, he found 
 Andy had been in service at Merry vale; and Andy, telling 
 him he knew all about waiting at table, and so forth, and 
 O'Grady being in want of an additional man-servant in the 
 house while his honorable guest, Sackville Scatterbrain, 
 should be on a visit with him, Andy was told he should be 
 taken on trial for a month. Indeed, a month was as long 
 as most servants could stay in the house — ^they came and 
 went as fast as figures in a magic-lantern. 
 
 Andy was installed in his new place, and set to work im-
 
 186 HANDT ANDY. 
 
 mediately scrubbing up extras of all sorts to make the re- 
 ception of the honorable candidate for the county as brill- 
 iant as possible, not only for the honor of the house, but 
 to make a favorable impression on the coming guest; for 
 Augusta, the eldest girl, was marriageable, and to her 
 father's ears " The Honorable Mrs. Sackville Scatterbrain " 
 would have sounded much more agreeably than "Miss 
 O-'Grady." 
 
 *' Well— who knows?" said 'Grady to his wife; "such 
 things have come to pass. Furbish her up, and make her 
 look smart at dinner — he has a good fortune, and will be a 
 peer one of these days — worth catching. Tell her so. " 
 
 _ Leaving these laconic observations and directions behind 
 him, he set off to the neighboring town to meet Scatter- 
 brain, and to make a blow-up at the post-office about the 
 missing letters. This he was the more anxious to do, as 
 the post-oflfice was kept by the brother of M'Garry, the 
 apothecary; and since O'Grady had been made to pay so 
 dearly for thrashing him, he swore eternal vengeance 
 against the whole family. The postmaster could give no 
 satisfactory answer to the charge made against him, and 
 O'Grady threatened a complaint to head-quarters, and 
 prophesied the postmaster's dismissal. Satisfied for the 
 present with this piece of prospective vengeance, he pro- 
 ceeded to the inn, and awaited the arrival of his guest. 
 
 Li the interim, at the Hall, Mrs. O'Grady gave Augusta 
 the necessary hints, and recommended a short walk to im- 
 prove her color; and it was in the execution of this order 
 that Miss 'Grady's perambulation was cut short by the 
 pelting her sweet brothers gave her. 
 
 The internal bustle of the establishment caught the at- 
 tention of the dowager, who contrived to become acquaint- 
 ed with its cause, and set about making herself as fasci- 
 nating as possible; for though, in the ordinary routine of 
 the family affairs, she kept herself generally secluded in 
 her own apartments, whenever any affair of an interesting 
 nature was pending, nothing could make her refrain from 
 joining any company which might be in the house; — noth- 
 ing; — not even O'Grady himself. At such times, too, she 
 became strangely excited, and invariably executed one piece 
 of farcical absurdfby, of which, however, the family con- 
 trived to confine the exercise to her own room. It was 
 wearing ou her head a tin concern, sometliing like a chim-
 
 HANDY AXDT. 187 
 
 nev-cowl, ornamented by a small weather-cock, after the 
 fashion of those which surmount church-steeples; this, she 
 declared, influenced her health wonderfully, by indicating 
 the variation of the wind in her stomach, which she main- 
 tained to be the grand ruling principle of human existence. 
 She would have worn this head-dress in any company, had 
 she been permitted, but the terrors of her son had sufficient 
 influence over her to have this laid aside for a more seemly 
 coiffure Avhen she appeared at dinner or in the drawing- 
 room; but while she pelded really through fear, she af- 
 fected to be influenced through tenderness to her son^s in- 
 firmity of temper. 
 
 '•^ It is very absurd," she Avould say, ''that Gustavus 
 should interfere wath my toilet; but, poor fellow, he's 
 very queer, you know, and I humor him." 
 
 This at once explains why Master Eatty called the tinker 
 " the milliner." 
 
 It Avill not be wondered at that the family carefully ex- 
 cluded the old lady from the knowledge of any exciting 
 subject; but those who know what a talkative race children 
 and servants are, will not be surprised that the dowager 
 sometimes got scent of proceedings which were meant to be 
 kept secret. The pending election and the approaching 
 ^'isit of the candidate, somehow or other, came to her 
 knowledge, and, of course, she put on her tin chimney-pot. 
 Thus attired, she sat watching the avenue all day; and 
 when she saw O'Grady return in a handsome traveling-car- 
 riage with a stranger, she was quite happy and began to at- 
 tire herself in some ancient finery, rather the worse for 
 wear, and which might have been interesting to an anti- 
 quary. 
 
 The house soon rang with bustle — bells rang and foot- 
 steps rapidly paced passages, and pattered up and down- 
 stairs. Andy was the nimblest at the hall-door at the first 
 summons of the bell; and, in a livery too short in the arms 
 and too wide in the shoulders, he bustled here and there, 
 his anxiety to be useful only putting him in everybody's 
 way, and endmg in getting him a hearty cursing from 
 O'Grady. 
 
 The carriage was unpacked, and letter-boxes, parcels, 
 and portmanteaus strewed the hall. Andy was desired to 
 carry the latter to " the gentleman's room," and, throwing 
 t;he portmanteau over Hie> shoulder, he ran upstairs, Jt
 
 188 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 was jnst after the commotion created by the arrival of tho 
 Honordble Mr. Scatterbrain that Furlong returned to the 
 house, wet and weary. 
 
 He retired to his room to change his clothes, and fancied 
 he was now safe from further molestation, with an inward 
 protestation that the next time the Master O'Gradys caught 
 him in their company, they might bless themselves; when 
 he heard a loud sound of bustling near his door, and Miss 
 Augusta's voice audibly exclaiming, " Behave yourself. 
 Ratty I — Gusty, let me go!" — when, as the words were ut- 
 tered, the door of his room shoved open, and Miss Augusta 
 thrust in, and the door locked outside. 
 
 Furlong had not half his clothes on. Augusta exclaimed, 
 ''Gracious me!" — first put up her hands to her eyes, and 
 then turned her face to the door. 
 
 Furlong hid himself in the bed-curtains, while Ratty, the 
 vicious little rascal, with a malicioi'.s laugh, said, " Now, 
 promise you'll not tell 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, fy, Maste' O'Gwady!" said Furlong. 
 
 •* 111 scream. Ratty, if you don't let me out!" cried Au- 
 gusta. 
 
 " If you screech, papa will hear you, and then he'll come 
 up and kill that fellow there." 
 
 " Oh, don't squeam. Miss O'Gwady!" said Furlong, very 
 vivaciously, from the bed-curtains; " don't squeam, pway !" 
 
 "I'm not squeamish, sir," said Miss Augusta; " but it's 
 dreadful to be shut up with a man who has no clothes on 
 him. Let me out, Ratty — let me out!" 
 
 " Well, will you tell on us?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " 'Pon your honor?" 
 
 "'Pon my honor, no! Make haste! Oh, if papa knei? 
 of this!" 
 
 Scarcely had the words been uttered, when the heavy 
 tramp and gruff voice of 'Grady resounded in the passage, 
 and tne boys scampered off in a fright, leaving the door 
 locked. 
 
 " Oh, what will become of me!" said the poor girl, with 
 the extremity of terror in her look — a terror so excessive.
 
 HAXDY ANDY. 189 
 
 that she was quite heedless of the dishabille of Furlong, 
 who jumped from the curtains, when he heard O'Grady 
 coming. 
 
 "Don-'t be fwightened. Miss O'Gwady/' said Furlong, 
 half frightened to death 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 sharj) 
 tap succeeded, and Furlong's name was called in the grulf 
 voice of the Squire. 
 
 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 "wiUi you as soon as I am dwessed, sir," 
 replied Furlong. 
 
 '•' I want to speak to vou immediatelv — and here are let- 
 ters for you — open the door. " 
 
 Augusta signified by signs to Furlong that resistance 
 woidd be vain ; and hid herself under the bed. 
 
 "^ Come hi, 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 he never thought of the impossibility of Fur- 
 long's having locked it, but, in the richest spirit of bulls, 
 asked him if he always fastened his door on the outside. 
 Furlong said he always did. 
 
 ''What's the matter with you?" inquired O'Grady. 
 " You're as white as the sheet 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 with me, sir?" 
 
 ''Here are letters for you — I want to know what's in 
 them — Scatterb rain's come — do you know that?" 
 
 "No— I did not." 
 
 " Don't stand there in the cold — go on dressing yourself; 
 111 sit down here till you can open your letters: I want to
 
 190 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 tell you semething besides/' O'Grady took a chair as ha 
 gpoka 
 
 Furlong assumed all the composure he could; and the 
 girl began to hope she should remain undiscovered, and 
 most likely she would have been so lucky, had not the 
 Genius of Disaster, with aspect malign, waved her sable 
 wand, and called her chosen servant. Handy Andy, to her 
 aid. He, her faithful and unfailing minister, obeyed the 
 cull, and at that critical 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 jiutleman's port- 
 mantle. " 
 
 " What gentleman?" asked O'Grady. 
 
 '' The Honorable, sir; I tuk his purtmantle to the 
 wrong room, sir; and I'm come for it now, bekase he wants 
 it." 
 
 '^There's no po'tmanteau here," said Furlong. 
 
 '' 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, till I have done dwessing." 
 
 ''But the Honorable is dhressing too, sir; and that's why 
 he wants the portmantle." 
 
 " Take it, then," said the Squire. 
 
 Furlong was paralyzed, and could offer no further resist- 
 ance: Andy stooped, and lifting the valance of the bed to 
 withdraw the portmanteau, dropped it suddenly, and ex- 
 claimed, "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 jiutleman's done, sir," said Andy, 
 retii'ing. 
 
 " What the devil is all this about?" said the Squire, see- 
 ing the bewilderment of Furlong and Andy. " What is it 
 at all?" and he stooped as he spoke, and lifted the valance. 
 But here description must end, and imagination supply the 
 scene of fury and confusion which succeeded. At the first 
 fierce volley of imprecation O'Grady gave vent to, Andv 
 3Hn off and alarmed the family, Augusta screamed, and 
 furlong held for su})port by the bedpost, while, between
 
 HANDY ANDY. 191 
 
 every hurricane of oaths, O'Grady ran to the door, and 
 shouted for his pistols, and anon returned to the chamber 
 to vent every abusive epithet whicli could be showered on 
 man and woman. The prodigious uproar soon brought 
 the whole house to the spot; Mrs. O'Grady and the two 
 spare girls amongst the first; Mat, and the cook, and the 
 scullion, and all the house-mairls in rapid succession; and 
 Scatterbrain iiimself at last. O'Grrady all the time foaming 
 at the mouth, stamping up and down the room, shaking 
 his fist at Furlong, and, after a volley of names impossible 
 to remember or print, always concluding with the phrase, 
 ''Wait tilll 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 education you give your children, ma'am. Where 
 have you brought up your daughters to go to, eh?" 
 
 " To church, my dear," said Mrs. O'Grady, meekly; for 
 she being a Eoman Catholic, O'Grady was very jealous of 
 his daughters being reared stanch Protestants, and she, 
 poor simple woman, thought that was the drift of his ques- 
 tion. 
 
 ''Church, my eye, woman! Church, indeed! — ^faith, 
 she ought to have gone there before she came where I found 
 her. Thunderan'ouns, where are my pistols?" 
 
 "Where has she gone to, my love?" asked the wife in a 
 tremor. 
 
 " To the devil, ma'am. Is that all you know about jt?" 
 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 
 without spectacles." 
 
 Mrs. O'Grady now gave a scream, and the girls and the 
 house-maids joined in the chorus. Augusta bellowed from 
 under the bed, "' Mamma! mamma! indeed it's all Eatty 
 — T never did it. " 
 
 At this moment, to help the confusion, a fresh appear- 
 ance made its way into the room; it was that of the Dow- 
 ager O'Grady — arrayed in all the by-gone finery of faded 
 full dress, and the tin chimney-pot on her head. "What 
 is this all about?" she exclaimed, with an air of authority; 
 " though my weather-cock tells me the wind is nor'west, 
 I 4id not expect such a storm. Is any one idUecir*
 
 192 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 **No," said O'Gu-ady; "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 threw themselves before him, and Scatterbrain 
 shoved Andy outside the room. 
 
 ** Confound you, you numscull! would you give pistols 
 into the hands of a frantic man?" 
 
 " Sure, he ax'd for them, sir." 
 
 "Get out o' this, you blockhead! Go and hide them 
 somewhere, where your master won^t find them. " 
 
 Andy retired, muttering something about the hardness 
 of a servant^s case, in being scolded and called names for 
 doing his master's bidding. Scatterbrain returned to the 
 room, where the confusion was still in full bloom; O'Grady 
 swearing between his mother and wife, while Furlong en- 
 deavored to explain how the young lady happened to be in 
 his room; and she kicking in hysterics amidst the maids 
 and her sisters, while Scatterbrain ran to and fro between 
 all the parties, giving an ear to Furlong, 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 speculation about Scatterbrain all knocked on the 
 head, for it could not be expected lie would marry the lady 
 who had been found under another man's bed. To hush 
 the thing up would be impossible, after the publicity his 
 own fury had given to the affair. " Would she ever be 
 married after such an affair was iclate ?" The question 
 rushed into his head on one side, and the answer rushed in 
 at the other, and met it with a plump " No!" — the ques- 
 tion and answer then joined hands in O'Grady's mind, 
 and danced down the middle to the tune of " Haste to the 
 wedding!" 
 
 *' Yes," he said, slapping his forehead, "she must })e 
 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 had made the admission. 
 
 " 'Tis well for you," said O'Grady, " for it has saved 
 your life. You shall marry her, then !" He never thought 
 of asking Furlong's acquiescence '"n the measure. " Come 
 here, you baggage I" he cried to Aagusta, as lie laid hold of
 
 HA^TDY AXDT. J 193 
 
 her hand, and pulled her up from the chair; " come here! 
 I intended you for a better man; but since you have such 
 a hang-dog taste, why, go to him!" And he shoved her 
 over to Furlong. "There!"' he said, addressing him, 
 *' take her, since you ivill have her. We'll speak of her 
 fortune after." 
 
 The poor girl stood abashed, sobbing aloud, and tears 
 pouring from her downcast eyes. Furlong was so utterly 
 taken by surprise that he was riveted to the spot where he 
 stood, and could not advance a step toward his droopiug 
 intended. At this awkward moment, the glorious old 
 dowager came to the rescue; she advanced, tin chimney-pot 
 and all, and taking a hand of each of the principals in 
 hers, she joined them together in a theatrical manner, 
 and ejaculated, with a benignant air, " Bless you, my 
 children!" 
 
 In the midst of the mingled rage, confusion, fright, and 
 astonishment of the various parties present, there was 
 something so exquisitely absurd in the old woman's pro- 
 ceedmg that nearly every one felt inclined to laugh; but 
 the terror of "Grady kept their risible faculties in check. 
 Fate, however, decreed the fmale should be comic; for the 
 cook, suddenly recollecting herself, exclaimed, " Oh, 
 murther! the goose will be burned!" and ran out of the 
 room. A smothered burst of laughter succeeded, which 
 roused the ire of O'Grady, who, making a charge right and 
 left amongst the delinquents, the room was soon cleared, 
 and the party dispersed in various directions, O'Grady's 
 voice rising loud above the general confusion, as he swore 
 his way down-stairs, kicking his mother's tin turban before 
 him. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 Canvassing before an election resembles skirmishing 
 before a battle; — the skirmishing was over, and the arrival 
 of the Honorable Sackville Scatterbrain was like the first 
 gun that commences an engagement; — and now both 
 parties were to enter on the final struggle. 
 
 A jolly group sat in Murphy's dining-parlor on the eve 
 of the day fixed for the nomination. Hitting points of 
 speeches were discussed — plans for bringing up voters — 
 tricks to interrupt the business of the opposite party — cer-
 
 I'J-L HAKDV AKDY. 
 
 tain Hllusions on the hustings that would make the enemT 
 lose temper; and, above all, everything- that could cheer 
 ami amuse the people, and make them rejoice in their 
 cause. 
 
 " Oh, let me alone for that much,''said Murtough. " J 
 have engaged every piper and fiddler within twenty miles 
 round, and divil a screech of a chanter* or a scrape of cat- 
 cut Scatterbrain can have for love or money — that's one 
 grand point." 
 
 " But," said Tom Durfy, " he has engaged the yeomanry 
 band. " 
 
 "What of that?" asked Dick Dawson; ''a band is aU 
 very well for making a splash in the first procession to the 
 hustings, but what good is it in working out the details?" 
 •'' AVhat 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 the evening — Wow! — won't Scatter- 
 brain's lads look mighty shy when they know the Eganites 
 are kicking their heels to 'Moll in the AVad,' while ifiey 
 haven't a lilt to shake their bones to?" 
 
 "To be sure," said Murphy; we'll have the deserters to 
 our cause from the enemy's camp before the first night ia 
 over; f wait till the girls know Avhere the fiddlers ai-e — and 
 won't they make the lads join us!" 
 
 •'•'I believe a woman would do a good deal for a dance," 
 said Doctor Growling; '"'they are immensely fond of salta- 
 tory motion. I remember, once in my life, I used to flirt 
 with a little actress who was a great favorite in a provincial 
 town where I lived, and she was invited to a ball there, and 
 confided to me that 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'reo ut," said Growling. " She knew I was at 
 poor as herself; but though she could not rely on my purse, 
 she had every confidence in my taste and judgment, and 
 consulted me on a plan she formed for going to the ball ba 
 proper twig. Now, what do you think it was?" 
 
 * The principal tube of a bnirpipe. 
 
 i lu those times elections often lasted niuiiy days.
 
 HAKDY ANDY. 195 
 
 "To go in cotton, I suppose/' returned Dick. 
 
 *'' Out, again, sir — you'd never guess it; and only a woman 
 could have'liit on the expedient; it was the fashion in those 
 days for ladies in full dress to wear pink stockings, and she 
 proposed paintuig her legs!" 
 
 * '• Painting her legs I" they all exclaimed. 
 
 "Fact, sir,'' said the doctor; " and she relied on me for 
 telhng her if the cheat was successful — " 
 
 " And was it?" asked Durfy. 
 
 ''Don't be in a hurr}-, Tom. I complied on one con- 
 dition — namely, that I should be the painter." 
 
 "Oh, you villain I" cried Dick. 
 
 "A capital bargain I" said Tom Durfy. 
 
 " But not a safe covenant," added the attorney. 
 
 "Don't interrupt me, gentlemen," said the doctor. "1 
 got some rose-pink accordingly, and I defy all the hosiers 
 in Xottiagham to make a tighter fit than I did on little 
 Jinney; and a jDrettier pair of stockings I never saw." 
 
 " And she went to the ball.^" said Dick. 
 
 "She did!'' 
 
 "And the trick succeeded?" added Durfy. 
 
 "So comjiletely," said the doctor, "that several ladies 
 asked her to recommend her dyer to them I So you see what 
 a woman will do to go to a dance. Poor little Jinney! — she 
 was a merry minx. By the bye, she boxed my 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 Murjihy called them back to the business 
 of the election. 
 
 " What next?" he said, "public-houses and tally-rooms 
 to have pipers and fiddlers — ay — and we'll get up as good 
 a march, too, as Seatterbrain, with all his yeomanry 
 band — think a cart full of fiddlers would have a fine effect!" 
 
 "If we could only get a double-bass amongst them!" 
 said Dick. 
 
 "Talking of double-basses," said the doctor, "did 
 you ever hear the story of the sailor in an admiral's ship, 
 who, when some fine concert was to be given on board — " 
 
 " Hang your concerts and stories!" said Murphy; "let 
 IS go on with, the election."
 
 198 HAKDY ANDT. 
 
 *'0h, the doctor's story!'' cried Tom Durfy and Dick 
 Dawson together. 
 
 ''Well, sir/' continued the doctor, '^ a sailor was hand- 
 ing in, over the side, from a boat which bore the instru 
 ments from shore, a great lot of fiddles. When some 
 tenors came into his hand he said those w^ere real good- 
 sized fiddles; and when a violoncello appeared. Jack, sup- 
 posing it was to be held between the hand and the shoidder. 
 like a violin, declared ' He must be a strapping chap that 
 fiddle belonged to!' But when the double-bass made its 
 apjaearance, 'My eyes and limbs!' cried Jack, 'I would 
 like to see the chap as plays that ! ! !' " 
 
 "AYell, doctor, are you done?" cried Murphy; "for, if 
 you are, now for the election. You say, Dick, Majoi 
 Dawson is to propose your brother-in-law?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And he'll do it w'ell, too; the Major makes a very good 
 straightforward speech. " 
 
 "Yes," said Dick; "the old cock is not a bad hand at 
 it. But I have a suspicion he's going to make a greater 
 oration than usual and read some long rigmarolish old 
 records." 
 
 "That will never do," said Murphy; "as long as a man 
 looks Pat in the face, and makes a good rattling speech 
 'out o' the face,' Pat will listen to him; but when a lad 
 takes to heavy readings, Pat grows tired. We must per- 
 suade the Major to give ujj the reading." 
 
 "Persuade?//?/ father!" cried Dick. "W'hen did you 
 ever hear of his giving 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 not read a word. " 
 
 "Manage that, Dick, and you're a jewel!" 
 
 "I will," said Dick. "I'll take the glasses out of his 
 spectacles the morning 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, open- 
 ing the door. 
 
 "Then, that's the best thing we could discuss, boys," 
 said Murphy to his friends- -" so up witli the supper, Dan.
 
 HA]S'DY AXDY. 197 
 
 Up with the supper! Up with the Egans! Down \dth 
 the Scatterbrains — hurrah! we'll beat them gavly/' 
 
 "Hollow!" said Durfy. 
 
 "Kot hollow/' said Dick; ''we'll have a tussle for it/* 
 
 "So much the better/' cried Murphy? "I would not 
 give a fig for an easy victory — there's no fun in it. Give 
 me the election that is like a race — now one ahead, and 
 then the other; the closeness cahing out all the 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, '' besides crushing the hope of a 
 petition on the jjart of your enemy to pull down the ma- 
 jority." 
 
 " But think of Murphy's enjoyment," said the doctor, 
 "in defending the seat, to say nothing of the bill of costs." 
 
 "You have me there, doctor," said Murphy; '-'a fair hit, 
 I grant you; but see, the supper is on the table. To it, 
 my lads; to it! and then a jolly glass to drink success to 
 our friend Egan. " 
 
 And glass after glass they did drink in all sorts and 
 shapes of well-wishing toasts; in short, to have seen the 
 deep iaterest those men took in the success of their friend, 
 might have gladdened the heart of a philanthropist; though 
 there is no knowing what Father Mathew, had he flourished 
 in those times, might have said to their overflowing benev- 
 olence. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIU. 
 
 The morning of nomination which dawned on Neck-or- 
 nothing Hall saw a motley group of O'Grady's retainers 
 assembling in the stable-yard, and the out-offices rang to 
 laugh and joke over a rude but plentiful breakfast— -tea 
 and coffee, there, had no place — but meat, potatoes, milk, 
 beer, and whisky were at the option of the body-guard, 
 which was selected for the honor of escorting the wild 
 chief and his friend, the candidate, into the town. Of this 
 party was the yeomanry band of which Tom Durfy spoke, 
 though, to say the truth, considering Tom's apprehensions 
 on the subject, it was of slender force. One trumpet, one 
 clarionet, a fife, a big drum, and a pair of cymbals, with 
 a. ''real nigger" to play tliem, were all they could muster.
 
 198 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 After clearing off everything in the shape of breakfast, 
 the " musicianers " amused the retainers;, from time to 
 time, with a tune on the clarionet, fife, or trumpet, while 
 they waited the appearance of the party from the house. 
 Uproarious mirth and noisy joking rang round the dwelling, 
 to which none contributed more largely than the trum- 
 peter, who fancied himself an immensely clever fellow, and 
 had a heap of cut-and-dry jokes at his command, and prac- 
 tical drolleries in which he indulged to the great enter- 
 tainment of all, but of none more than Andy, who was in 
 the thick of the row, and in a divided ecstasy between the 
 '' Uaky-moor^s " turban and cymbals and the trumpeter's 
 jokes and music; the latter articles having a certain re- 
 semblance, by the bye, to the former in clumsiness and 
 noise, and therefore suited to Andy's taste. Whenever 
 occasion offered, Andy got near the big drum, too, and 
 gave it a thump, delighted with the result of his ambitious 
 achievement. 
 
 Andy was not lost on the trumpeter: '^ Arrah, may be 
 you'd like to have a touch at these?" said the joker, hold- 
 ing up the cymbals. 
 
 ^'Isit hard to play them, sir?" inquired Andy. 
 ^'Hard!" said the trumpeter; " sure they're not hard at 
 all — but as soft and 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 by-standers laughed, 
 and the trumpeter triumphed in his wit. Sometimes he 
 would come behind an unsuspecting boor, and give, close 
 to his ear, a discordant bray from his trumpet, like the 
 note of a jackass, which made Mm jump, and the crowd 
 roar with merriment; or, perhaps, when the clarionet or 
 the fife was engaged in givmg the people a tune, he would 
 drown either, or both of them, in a wild yell of his instru- 
 ment. As they could not make reprisals upon him, he 
 had his own way in playing whatever he liked for his au- 
 dience; and in doing so indulged in all the airs of a great 
 artist — pulling out one crook from another — blowing 
 through them softly, and shaking the moisture from them 
 in a tasty style — arranging them with a fastidious nicetv — 
 then, after the final adjustment of the mouth-piece, lip- 
 ping the instrument with aa affectation exquisitely gro
 
 HAKDT AXDT. 199 
 
 tesque; but before he began lie always asked for another 
 drink. 
 
 " It^s not for myself," lie would say, "but for the 
 thrumpet, the crayther; the divil a note she can blow with- 
 out a dhrop." 
 
 Then, taking a mug of drink, he would present it to the 
 bell of the trumpet, and afterward transfer it to his own 
 lips, always bowing to the instrument hrst, and saving. 
 *' Your health, ma'am!" 
 
 This was another piece of delight to the mob, and Andy 
 thought him the funniest fellow he ever met, though he 
 did cbop his finger. 
 
 " Faix, sir, an' it is dhry work, I'm sure, plajdng the 
 thing. " 
 
 "Dhry!" said the trumpeter, **'pon my ruffles and 
 tuckers — and that's a cambric oath — it's worse nor lime- 
 burnin', so it is — it makes a man's throat as parched as 
 pays." 
 
 " Who dar says pays?" cried the drummer. 
 
 " Howld your prate!" said the trumpeter, elegantly, and 
 silenced all reply by playing a tune. As soon as it was 
 ended, he turned to Andy and asked 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 would run about the place if I didn't do 
 that." 
 
 Andy gave a vague sort of " ha, ha!" as if he were not 
 quite sure whether the trumpeter was in jest or earnest, 
 and thought at the moment that to play the trumpet and 
 practical jokes must be the happiest life in the world. 
 Pilled with this idea, Andy was on the watch how he could 
 possess himself of the trumpet, for could he get one blast 
 on it, he would be happy : a chance at last opened to him ; 
 after some time, the Lively owner of the treasure laid down 
 his instrument to handle a handsome blackthorn which one 
 of the retainers was displaying, and he made some flourishes 
 with the weapon to show that music was not his only ac- 
 complishment. Andy seized the opportunity and the 
 trumpet, and made off to one of the sheds where they had 
 been regaling; and, shutting the door to secure himself 
 from observation, he put the trumpet to his mouth and
 
 ^00 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 distended his cheeks near to bursting with the violence of 
 his efforts to produce a sound; but all his puffing was un- 
 availing for some minutes. At last a faint cracked squeak 
 answered a more desperate blast than before, and Andy, 
 was delighted. ''Everything must have a beginning/' 
 thought Andy. " and may be I'll get a tune out of it yet-" 
 He tried again, and increased in power; for a sort of 
 strangled screech was the result. Andy was in ecstasy, 
 and began to indulge visions of being one day a trumpeter; 
 he strutted up and down the shed like the original he so 
 envied, and repeated some of the drolleries he heard him 
 utter. He also imitated his actions of giving a drink to 
 the trumpet, and was more generous to the instrument 
 than the owner, for he really poured about half a pint of 
 beer down its throat: then he drank its health, and finished 
 by ''bottling up the music," absolutely cramming a cork 
 into tlie trumpet. Now Andy, having no idea the trump- 
 eter made a sham of the action, made a vigorous plunge 
 of a goodly cork into the throat of the instrument, and, m 
 so doing, the cork went further than he intended: he trial 
 to withdraw it, but liis clumsy fingers, instead of extricat- 
 ing, only drove it deeper — he became alarmed — and, seiz- 
 ing a fork, strove with its assistance to remedy the mischief 
 he had done, but the more he poked, the worse: and, in 
 his fright, he thouglit the safest thing he could do was to 
 cram tlie cork out of sight altogetlier, 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 gave orders that the party should not be throwing 
 away their powder and shot, as he called it, in untimely 
 huzzas and premature music. " Wait till you come to the 
 town, boys," said he, "and then you may smash away^as 
 hard as you can, blow your heads off, and split the sky." 
 
 The party of Merryvale was iu motion for the place ol 
 action about the same "time, and a merrier pack of rascals 
 never was on the march. Murphy, in accordance with his 
 preconceived notions of a " fine effect," had literally " a cart 
 full of fiddlers;" but the fiddlers hadn't it all to themselves, 
 for there was another cart full of pipers; and, by way of 
 mockery to the grandeur of Scatterbrain's band, he had 
 four or five bovs with gridirons, which they played upon 
 with pokers, and half a dozen strapping fellows carrying
 
 HAKDT ANDT. 20i 
 
 large u on tea-trays, which they whopped after the manner 
 of a Chinese gong. 
 
 It so happened that the two roads from Merryvale and 
 Neck-or-nothing Hall met at an acute angle, at the same 
 end of the town, and it chanced that the rival candidates 
 and their retinues arrived at this point about the same time. 
 
 ''There they are I" said Murphy, who presided in the 
 cartfull of fiddlers like a leader in an orchestra, with a 
 shillelah for his hato)!, which he flourished over his head as 
 he shouted, " Now give it to them, your sowls! — rasp and 
 lilt away, hoys! — slate the gridirons, Mike! — smaddher the 
 tay-tray, Tom!'' 
 
 The "uproar of strange sounds that followed, shouting in- 
 cluded, may be easier imagined than described; and O'Gra- 
 dy, answering the war-cry, sung out to his band — "'What 
 are you at, you lazy rascals? — don't you hear them black- 
 guards beginning? — fire away, and be hanged to you!" His 
 rascals shouted, bang went the drum, and clang went the 
 cymbals, the clarionet squeaked, and the fife tootled, but 
 the trumpet — ah! — the trumpet — their great reliance — 
 where was the trumpet? O'Grady inquired in the precise 
 words, with a diabolical addition of his own. " Where the 
 
 d is the trumpet?" said he; he looked over the side of 
 
 the carriage as he spoke, and saw the trumpeter spitting 
 out a mouthful of beer which had run from the instrument 
 as he lifted it to his mouth. 
 
 " Bad luck to you, what are you wasting your time for?" 
 thundered O'Grady in a rage; "'why didn't you spit out 
 when you were young, and you'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 to his lips — but in vain; Andy had bottled his 
 music for him, O'Grady, seeing the mflated cheeks and 
 protruding eyes of the musician, whose visage was crimson 
 with exertion, aud yet no sound produced, thought the fel- 
 low was practicing one of his jokes upon him, and became 
 excessively indignant; he thundered anathemas at him, but 
 his voice was drowned in the din of the drum and cymbals, 
 which were plied so vigorously, that the clarionet and fife 
 shared the same fate as O'Grady's voice. The trumpeter 
 could judge of O'Grady's rage from the fierceness of his 
 actions only, and answered him in pantomimic expression, 
 holding up bis trumpet and pointing into the bell, with a
 
 202 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 grm of vexation on his yiln?., meant, to express something 
 was wrong; but this was all mistaken by the fierce O'Gra- 
 dy, who only saw in the trumpeter's grins the insolent in- 
 tention of gibing him. 
 
 ''Blow, you blackguard, blow!*' shouted the Squire. 
 Bang went the drum. 
 
 "Blow — or 111 break your neck!" Crash went the cym- 
 bals. 
 
 " Stop your banging there, you ruffians, and let me be 
 heard!" roared the excited man; but as he was standing up 
 ©n the seat of the carriage, and flung his arms about wildly 
 as he spoke, the drummer thought his action was meant to 
 stimulate him to further exertion, and he banged away 
 louder than before. 
 
 "By the hokey. 111 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 giving him a bang over 
 the head with it, cursed him for a rascal for not stopping 
 when he told him; this silenced all the instruments to- 
 gether, and O'Grady, seizing the trumpeter by the back of 
 the neck, shook him violently, while he denounced with 
 fierce imprecations his insolence, in daring to practice a joke 
 on him. The trumpeter protested his innocence, and 
 O'Grady called him a lying rascal, finishing his abuse by 
 clinching his fist in a menacing attitude, and telling him 
 to play. 
 
 "I can't, yer honor!" 
 
 "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, siv." 
 
 " Hold your prate, j'our ruffian; blow this minute." 
 
 " Arrah, thry it yourself, sir," said the frightened man, 
 handing the instrument to the Squire. 
 
 "D — n your impudence, you rascal; do you think I'd 
 blow anything that was in your dirty mouth? Blow, I tell 
 you, or it will be worse for you. " 
 
 " By the vartue o' my oath, your honor — " 
 
 "Blow, I tell you!" 
 
 " Bv the seven blessed candles — ** 
 
 " Blow, I tell youl"
 
 HAXDY AKDY. 203 
 
 ''The trumpet is choked, sir/* 
 
 " There will be a trumpeter choked, soon/* said 0*Grady, 
 gripping him by the neck-handkerchief, with his knuckles 
 ready to twist into his throat. '"By this and that I'll 
 strangle you, if you, if you don't play this minute, you 
 hnmbugger/" 
 
 *'By the Blessed Virgin, I'm not liumbuggin*, your 
 honorl^'' stammered the trumpeter with the little breath 
 '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 to the hifuriated Squire that what 
 the man said might be true. O'Grady said he knew bet- 
 ter, that the blackguard was a notorious joker, and having 
 indulged in a jest in the first instance, was now only l}ang 
 to save himself from punishment; furthermore, swearing 
 that if he did not play that minute he'd throw him into the 
 ditch. 
 
 With great diflficulty O'Grady was prevailed upon to give 
 tip the gripe of the trumpeter's throat; and the poor breath- 
 less wretch, handing the instrument to the clarionet-player, 
 appealed to him if it were possible to play on it. The 
 clarionet-player said he could not tell, for he did not under- 
 stand the trumpet. 
 
 '* You see there!" cried O'Grady. *' You see he's hum- 
 bugging, and the clarionet-player is an honest man. " 
 
 " An honest man!" exclaimed the trumpeter, turning 
 fiercely on the clarionet-player. ''He's the biggest villain 
 imhanged for sthrivin' to get me murthered, and ref ttsin' 
 the evidence for me!" The man's eyes flashed fury as he 
 spoke, and throwing his trumpet down, "Mooney! — by 
 jakers, you're no man!" Clinching his fist as he spoke, he 
 made a rush on the clarionet-player, and planted a hit on 
 his mouth with such vigor, that he rolled in the dust; and 
 when he rose, it was with such an upper lip that his 
 clarionet-playing was evidently finished for the next week 
 certainly. 
 
 Kow the fifer was the clarionet-player's brother; and he, 
 turning on the 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 fly under the ear of the trumpeter, who was quite un- 
 prepared for it — and he, too, measured his length on the
 
 'iOi HANDY ANDY. 
 
 road. On recovering his legs, he rushed on the fifer for 
 vevenge, and a regular scuffle ensued among the " musi- 
 ciauers/' to the great delight of the crowd of retainers, who 
 were so well primed mth whisky that a fight was just the 
 thing to their taste. 
 
 In vain O'Grady swore at them, and went amongst them, 
 striving to restore order, but they would not be quiet till 
 several black eyes and damaged noses bore evidence of a 
 busy five minutes having passed. In the course of the 
 *' scrimmage." Fate was unkind to the fifer, whose mouth- 
 piece was considerably impaired ; and " the boys "' remarked 
 that the worst stick you could have in a crowd was a 
 '' whistling stick;" by which name they designated the filer's 
 instrument. 
 
 At last, however, peace was restored, and the trumpeter 
 again ordered to 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 more sublime kicking than ever fell to the lot 
 of even piper or fiddler, whose pay* is proverbially of tener 
 in that article than the coin of the realm. 
 
 Having tired himself, and considerably rubbed down the 
 toe of his boot with his gentlemanly exercise, O'Grady 
 dragged the trumpeter to the ditch, and rolled him into it, 
 there to cool the fever which burned in his seat of honor. 
 
 O'Grady then re-entered the carriage with Scatterbrain, 
 and the party proceeded; but the clarionet-player could not 
 blow a note; the fifer was not in good playing condition, 
 and tootled with some difficulty; the drummer was obhged 
 now and then to relax his efforts in making a noise that he 
 might lift his right arm to his nose, which had got damaged 
 in the fray, and the process of wiping his face with his cuff 
 changed the white facings of his jacket to red. The negro 
 cymbal-player was the only one whose damages were not to 
 be ascertained, as a black e3^e would not tell on him, and 
 his lips could not be more swollen than nature had made 
 them. On the procession went, however; but the rival 
 mob, the Eganites, profiting by the delay caused by the 
 row, got ahead, and entere^d the town first, with their 
 
 * Fiddlers' fare, or pipers' pay — more kicks than halfpence.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 305 
 
 pipers and fiddlers, hurrahing their way in good humor 
 down the street, and occupying the best places in the court- 
 house before the arrival of the opposite party, whose band, 
 instead of being a source of triumph, was only a thing of 
 jeering merriment to the Eganites, who received them with 
 mockery and laughter. All this by no means sweetened 
 'Grady's temper, who looked thunder as he entered the 
 court-house with his candidate, who was, though a good- 
 humored 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 Dawson lost no time in rising to propose, that 
 Edward Egan, Esquire, of Merryvale, was a fit and proper 
 person to represent the county in parliament. 
 
 The proposition was received with cheers by '' the boys " 
 in the body of the court-house; the Major proceeded, full 
 sail, in his speech — his course aided by being on the popu- 
 lar current, and the " sweet voices " of the multitude 
 blowing in his favor. On concluding (as '^the boys'' 
 thought) his address, which was straightforward and to the 
 jDoint, a voice in the crowd proposed '^ Three cheers for the 
 owld Major. " Three deafening peals followed the hmt. 
 
 " And now,'' said the Major, " I will read a few extracts 
 here from some documents, in support of what I have had 
 the honor of addressing to you." And he pulled out a 
 bundle of papers as he spoke, and laid them down before 
 him. 
 
 The movement was not favored by " the boys," as it in- 
 dicated a tedious reference to facts by no means to their 
 taste, and the same voice that suggested the three cheers, 
 now sung out: 
 
 " Never mind. Major — sure well take your word for it!" 
 jj5ries of ''Order!" and " Silence!" ensued; and were fol- 
 lowed by murmurs, coughs, and sneezes, in the crowd, 
 with a considerable shuffling of hobnailed 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-
 
 206 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 *^1 must insist on silence!^' cried the sheriflf, in a very 
 hnsky voice. ''Silence! — or I'll have the court-house 
 cleared. " 
 
 "Faith, if you cleared your own throat it would be 
 better/^ said the wag in the crowds 
 
 A laugh followed. The sherin 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, had abstracted the glasses from them 
 that morning. He took up his documents to read, made 
 sundry wry faces, turned the papers up to the light — now 
 on this side, and now on that — but could make out noth- 
 ing; while Dick gave a knowing wink at Murphy. The old 
 gentleman took oft' his spectacles to wipe the glasses. 
 The voice in the crowd cried, "Thank you. Major. '^ 
 The Major pulled out his handkerchief, and his fingers 
 met where he expected to find a lens: — he looked very 
 angry, cast a suspicious glance at Dick, who met it with 
 the composure of an anchorite, and quietly asked what was 
 the matter. 
 
 " I shall not trouble you, gentlemen, with the extracts,** 
 said the Major. 
 
 "Hear, hear," responded the genteel part of the audi- 
 tory. 
 
 " I told 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'Grady now came forward to propose 
 the Honorable Sackville Scatterbrain, as a fit and proper 
 person to represent the county in parliament. He was re- 
 ceived Dy his own set of vagabonds with uproarious cheers, 
 and "O'Grady forever!" made the walls ring. " Egan 
 forever!" and hurras, were returned from the Merry- 
 valians. O'Grady thus commenced his address: 
 
 "In coming forward to support my honorable friend, the 
 Honorable Sackville Scatterbrain, it is from the conviction 
 — the conviction — " 
 
 " Who got the conviction agen the potteen last sishin?'* 
 said the voice in the crowd. 
 
 Loud groans followed this allusion to the prosecution of 
 a few little private stills, in which O'Grady had shown
 
 HANDY AXDY, 307 
 
 gome unnecessary severity that made him unpo]3ular. 
 Cries of " Order!" and ''Silence!" ensued. 
 
 '*I say the conviction," repeated O'Grady fiercely, luok- 
 ing toward the quarter whence the interruption took ]jlace, 
 *'aud if there is any blackguard here who dares to inter- 
 rupt me, ril order hirn to he taken out by the ears. 1 say, 
 I propose my honorable friend, the Hunorable Saekville 
 Scatterbraiu, from tlie conviction that there is a necessity 
 in this county — " 
 
 " Faith, there is jjlenty of necessity/' said the tormentor 
 in the crowd. 
 
 " Take that man out," said the sheriff. 
 
 ''Don't hurry yourself, sir," returned the delinquent, 
 amidst the laughter of "the boys," in proportion to 
 whose merriment rose O'Grady's ill-humor. 
 
 " I say there is a necessity for a vigorous member to 
 represent this county in parliament, and support the laws, 
 the constitution, the crown, and the — the — interests of the 
 county!" 
 
 "Who made the new road?" was the question that now 
 arose from the crowd — a laugh followed — and some groans 
 at this allusion to a bit of jobbing on the part of O'Grady, 
 who got a grand jury presentment to make a road wliich 
 served nobody's interest but his own. 
 
 "The frequent interruptions I meet here from the law- 
 less and disaffected show too plainly that we stand in need 
 of men who will support the arm of the law in purging the 
 country. " 
 
 " Who killed the 'pothecary?" said a fellow, in a voice so 
 deep as seemed 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 public meetings 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 this allusion to O'Grady's notorious character of a bad 
 payer, was relished by the crowd, and again raised the 
 laugh against him. 
 
 "Sir," said O'Grady, addressing the sheriff, "I hold 
 this ruffianism in contempt. I treat it, and the authors of 
 it, those who no doubt have instructed them, with con-
 
 208 HANDY AND'y. 
 
 tempt." He looked over to where Egan and his friends 
 stood, as he spoke of the crowd having had instructions to 
 interrupt 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 tc 
 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 repeat the unqualified denial of your assertion."' 
 
 The crowd ceased its noise when the two Squires were 
 seen engaged in exchanging smart words, in the hopes of 
 catching what they said. 
 
 "It is a disgraceful uproar," said the sheritf. 
 
 " Then it is your business, Mister Sheriff," returned 
 Egan, "to suppress it — not mine; they are quiet enough 
 
 now. " 
 
 " Yes, but they'll make a wow again," said Furlong, 
 "when Miste' O'Gwady begins." 
 
 "You seem to know all about it," said Dick; "maj bs 
 ynu have instructed them." 
 
 " No, sir, I didn't iustwiict them," said luiiong. ver> 
 angi'y at being twitted by Dick. 
 
 Dick laughed in his face, and said, " Maybe that's som^ 
 of your electioneering tactics — eh?" 
 
 Furlong got very angry, while Dick and Murphy shouted 
 with laughter at him — "No, sir,"- said Furlong, "I don'i 
 wehsh the pwactice of such di'ty twicks. " 
 
 "Do you apijly the word ' dirty ^ to me, sir?" said 
 Dick the Devil, ruffling up like a game-cock. " V\\ tell 
 you what, sir, if you make use of the word 'dirty' again, 
 I'd think very little of kicking you — ay, or eight like you 
 — Ill kick eight Furlongs one mile. " 
 
 •'Who's talkmg of kicking?" asked O'Grady. 
 " I am," said Dick, " do you want any?" 
 "Gentlemen! gentlemen!" cried the sheriff, "order! 
 pray order! do procee'^ vvith the business of the day."
 
 HAKDT AXDT. 209 
 
 "HI talk to you after about thisl^^ said O'Grady, in a 
 threatening tone. 
 
 '' Very well/' eaid Dick; *' we've time enough, the day's 
 young yet. " 
 
 O'Grady then proceeded to find fault with Egan, censur- 
 ing his politics, and endeavoring to justify his defection 
 from the same cause. He concluded thus: *^' Sir, I shall 
 pursue my course of duty; I have chalked out my own line 
 of conduct, sir, and I am convinced no other line is the 
 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 propose the Honorable Sackville Scat- 
 terbrain as a fit and proper person to sit in Parhament f oi 
 the representation of this country. " 
 
 The O'Gradyites shouted as their chief concluded, and 
 the Merry valians returned some groans, and a cry of "Go 
 home, turncoat!" \ 
 
 Egan now presented himself, and was received with deaf- | 
 p-frrng and long-contmued cheers, for he was really beloved 
 by the people at large; his frank and easy nature, the 1 
 amiable character he bore in all his social relations, the ' 
 merciful and conciliatory tendency of his decisions and con- 
 duct as a magistrate, won him the solid respect as well as / 
 affection of the countrvH / 
 
 He had been for some days m low spirits m consequence 
 of Larry Hogan's visit and mysterious communication with 
 him; but this, its cause, was unknown to all but himseK, 
 and therefore more difficult to support; for none but those 
 whom sad experience has taught can tell the agony of en- 
 during in secret and in silence the pang that gnaws a proud 
 heart, which, Spartan-like, will let the tooth destroy with- 
 out complaint or murmur. 
 
 His depression, however, was apparent, and Dick told 
 Murphy he feared Xed would not be up to the mark at the 
 election; but Murphy, with a better knowledge of human 
 nature, and the excitement of such a cause, said, " Xever 
 fear him — ambition is a long spur, my boy, and will stir 
 the blood of a thicker-skinned fellow than your brother-in- 
 iaw. When he . comes to stand up and assert his claims 
 before the world, he'll be all right!" 
 
 Murphy was a true prophet, for Egan presented himself 
 with confidence, brightness, and good-humor on kis 9^^ 
 epimtenance.
 
 210 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 " The first, thing I have to ask of you, boys/' said Egan, 
 addressing the assembled throng, '-is a fair hearing for the 
 other candi(hite. " 
 
 '^Hear, liear!" followed from the gentlemen in the 
 gallery. 
 
 " And, as he's a stranger amongst us, let him iiave the 
 privilege of first addressing you," 
 
 With these words he bowed courteously to Scatterbrain, 
 who thanked him very much hke a gentleman, and^ ac- 
 cepting his ofPer, advanced to address the electors. O'Grady 
 waved his hand in signal to his body-guard, and Scatter- 
 brain had three cheers from the ragamuffins. 
 
 He was no great things of a speaker, but he was a good- 
 humored fellow, and this won on the Paddies; and, al- 
 though coming before them under the disadvantage of 
 being proposed by O'Grady, they heard him with good 
 temper. To this, however, Egan's good word consider- 
 ably 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, quite as much deprecating the 
 political views of his opponent, and harping on O'Grady's 
 worn-out catch-word of " HaAong chalked out a line for 
 himself," etc., etc., etc. 
 
 ]^gan now stood forward, and was greeted with fresh 
 cheers. He began in a very Irish fashion; for, being an 
 unallected, frank, and free-hearted fellow himself, he 
 knew how to touch the feelings of those who possess such 
 qualities. He waited till the last echo of the uproarious 
 greeting died away, and the first simple words lie 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, which were sore ones to O'Grady, who, as a 
 renegade, felt the hit. 
 
 "Fellow-countrymen, I come forward to represent you, 
 and, however I may be unequal to that task, at least I 
 will never wzisrepresent you." 
 
 Another cheer f ollov/ed. 
 
 " My past life is evidence enough on that point. God
 
 HAKDT ANDY. 211 
 
 forbid I were of the mongrel breed of Irishmen, who speak 
 ill of their own country. I never did it, boys, and I never 
 will! Some think they get on by it, and so they do, in- 
 deed. They get on as sweeps and shoe-blacks get on — they 
 drive a dirty trade and find employment — ^but are they 
 respected?" 
 
 Shouts of "Xo!— no!" 
 
 "You're right! — Xol — they are not respected — even by 
 their very employers. Your pohtical sweep and shoe-black 
 is no more respected than he Avho cleans our chimneys or 
 cleans our shoes. The honorable gentleman M'ho has 
 addressed you last confesses he is a stranger amongst you; 
 and i^Jie, a stranger, to be your representative? You may 
 be civil to a stranger — it is a pleasing duty — but he is not 
 the man to whom you would give your confidence. Y^ou 
 might share a hearty glass with a stranger, but you would 
 not enter into a joint lease of a farm without knowing a 
 little more of him; and if you would not trust a single 
 farm with a stranger, will you give a whole county into 
 his hands? When a stranger comes to these parts, I'm 
 sure he'll get a civil answer from every man I see here — he 
 will get a civil 'yes' or a civil 'no' to his questions; and 
 if he seeks his way, you will show him his road. As to the 
 honorable gentleman who has done you the favor to come 
 and ask you civilly, will you give him the coimty, you as 
 civilly may answer 'Ko,' and slioiu him his road hoine 
 again. ('So we will.') As for the gentleman who pro- 
 posed him, he has chosen to make certain strictures upon 
 my views, and opinions, and conduct. As for views — there 
 was a certain heathen god the Romans worshiped, called 
 Janus; he was a fellow with two heads — and, by the bye, 
 boys, he would have been just the fellow to hve amongst 
 us; for when one of his heads was broken he would have 
 had the other for use. Well, this Janus was called ' double- 
 face,' and could see before and behind him. Now, /'?/i no 
 double-face, boys; and as for seeing before and behind me, 
 I can look back on the past and forward to the future, and 
 bofh the roads are straifjht ones. (Cheers.) I wish 
 every one could say as much. As for my opinions, all 1 
 shall say is, 1 never changed m inej Mr. O'Grady can't say 
 as much." 
 
 " Sure there's a weather-cock in the family," said a voice 
 \n the crowd.
 
 213 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 A loud laugh followed this sally, for the old dowager's 
 eccentricity was not quite a secret. O'Grady looked as if 
 he could have eaten the whole crowd at a mouthful. 
 
 " Much has been said/' continued Egan, '' about gentle- 
 men chalking out lines for themselves; now, the plain 
 English of this determined chalking of their own line is 
 rubbing ovt every other man's line. (Bravo.) Some of 
 these chalking gentlemen have lines chalked up against 
 them, and might find it difficult to pay the score if they 
 were called to 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 more to say than this. 
 We know and can trust each other!" 
 
 Egan's address was received with acclamation, and when 
 silence was restored, the sheriff demanded a show of hands; 
 and a very fine show of hands there was, and every haiid 
 had a stick in it! 
 
 The show of hands was declared to be in favor of Egan, 
 whereupon a poll was demanded on the part of Scatter- 
 brain, after which every one began to move from the court- 
 house. 
 
 O'Grady, in very ill-humor, was endeavoring to shove 
 past a herculean fellow, rather ragged and very saucy, who 
 did nofc seem inclined to give place 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 may be I have an article."* 
 
 "What is your article?" 
 
 "AVhat 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 man would dispute the title." 
 
 O'Grady had met his master, and could not reply; the 
 crowd shouted for the ragamuffin, and all parties separated, 
 to gird up their loins for the next day's poll. 
 
 * A name given to a written engagement between Ian(nord and 
 tenant, promising to grant a lease, ou wliich regisijratiOQ 13 allowed 
 ip Ixelaad.
 
 HAiiDY A^•UY. 213 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 After the angry words exchanged at the nomination, 
 the most peaceable reader must have anticipated the proba- 
 bility of a duel — but when the inflammable stuff of which 
 Irishmen are made is considered, together with the excite- 
 ment and pugnacious spirit attendant upon elections in all 
 places, the certainty of a hostile meeting must have been 
 apparent. The sheriff might have put the gentlemen under 
 arrest, it is true, but that officer was a weak, thoughtless, 
 irresolute person, and took no sncii precaution; though, to 
 do the poor man justice, it is only fair to say that such an 
 intervention of authority at such a time and place would 
 be considered on all hands as a very impertinent, unjusti- 
 fiable, and discourteous interference with the private 
 pleasures and privileges of gentlemen. 
 
 Dick Dawson had a message conveyed to him from 
 O'Grady, requesting the honor of his company the next 
 morning to " grass before breakfast! " to which, of course, 
 Dick returned an answer expressive of the utmost readi- 
 ness to oblige the Squire with his presence, and, as the 
 business of the election was of importance, it was agreed 
 that they should meet at a, given spot on the way to the 
 town, and so lose as little time as possible. 
 
 The next morning, accordingly, the parties met at the 
 appointed place, Dick attended by Edward O'Connor and 
 Egan — the former in capacity of his friend; and O'Grady, 
 with Scatterbrain for his second, and Furlong a looker-on; 
 there were some straggling spectators besides, to witness 
 the affair. 
 
 " O'Grady looks savage, Dick," said Edward. 
 
 *' Yes," answered Dick, with a smile of as much uncon- 
 cern as if he were going to lead off a country-dance. '* He 
 looks as pleasant as a bull in a pound." 
 
 " 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 savored too
 
 214 HANDY AKDt. 
 
 much of levity, so, leaving his friend, he advanced t« 
 Scatterbrain, aiad they commenced making the preiimmaiy 
 prejjarations. 
 
 During the period which this required O'Grady waa look- 
 ing down sulkily or looking up fiercely, and striking hid 
 heel with vehemence into the sod, while Dick Dawson wa^ 
 whisthng a planxty and eying his man. 
 
 The arrangements were soon made, and the men placed 
 on their ground, and Dick saw by the intent look with 
 which O'Grady marked him, that he meant mischief; they 
 were handed their pistols — the seconds retired — the ^ orxi 
 was given, and as O'Grady raised his pistol, Dick saw he 
 was completely covered, and suddenly exclaimed, throwing 
 up his arms, " I beg your pardon for a moment/' 
 
 O'Grady hivoluntarily lowered his weapon, and f?eeing 
 Dick standing perfectly erect, and nothing following _ his 
 sudden request for this suspension of hostilities, asked in a 
 very angry tone, why he had interrupted him. " Because 
 I saw you had me covered,"' said Dick, "and you'd have 
 hit me if you had fired that time; now fire away as soon as 
 you like,'' added he, at the same moment rapidly bringing 
 up his own pistol to the level. 
 
 O'Grady was taken by surprise, and fancying Dick was 
 going to blaze at him, fired hastily, and missed his ad- 
 versary. 
 
 Dick made him a low how, and fired in the air. 
 
 O'Grady wanted another shot, saying Dawson had tricked 
 him, but Scatterbrain felt the propriety of Edward O'Con- 
 nor's objection to further fighting, after Dawson receiving 
 O'Grady's fire; so the gentlemen were removed from the 
 ground and the affair terminated. 
 
 O'Grady, having fully intended to pink Dick, was ex- 
 cessively savage at being overreached, and went off to the 
 election with a temper by no means sweetened by the 
 morning's adventure, while Dick roared with laughing, ex- 
 claiming at intervals to Edwai'd O'Connor, as he was put 
 ting up his pistols, " Did not I do him neatly.^" 
 
 Off they cantered gayly to the high-road, exchanging 
 merry and cheering salutations with the electors, who y\eve 
 thronging toward the town in great numbers and all vari- 
 ety of manner, group, and costume, some on foot, soma 
 on horseback, and some on cars; the gayest show of holi- 
 day attire couti-astiug with the every-day rags of wretched-
 
 HANDY AXDT. 315 
 
 ness; the fresh cheek of health and beauty making gaunt 
 misery look more appalling, and the elastic step of vigor- 
 ous youth outstripping the tardy pace of feeble age. Pe- 
 destrians were hurrying on in detachmenfs of five or six — • 
 the equestrians in companies less numerous; sometimes 
 the cavalier who could boast a saddle carrying a woman oo 
 a pillion behind him. But saddle or j^illion were not an 
 indispensable accompaniment to this equestrian duo, for 
 many a " bare-back " gar ran carried his couple, his only 
 harness being a halter made of hay-rope, which in time of 
 need sometimes proves a substitute for " rack and man- 
 ger,^' for it is not uncommon in Ireland to see the garran 
 nibbling the end of his bridle when opportunity offers. 
 The cars were in great variety; some bore small kishes,* 
 in which a woman and some children might be seen; others 
 had a shake-down of clean straw to serve for cushions; 
 while the better sort spread a feather-bed for greater com- 
 fort, covered by a jmtchwork quilt, the Avork of the " good 
 woman " herself, whose own quilted petticoat vied in 
 brightness with the calico roses on Avhich she was sitting. 
 The most luxurious indulged still further in some arched 
 branches of hazel, which, bent above the car in the fashion 
 of a booth, bore another coverlid, by way of awning, and 
 served for protection against the weather; but few there 
 were Avho could indulge in such a luxury as this of the 
 '' chaise marine," which is the name the contrivance 
 bears, but why. Heaven only knows. 
 
 The street of the town had its center occupied at the 
 broadest place with a long row of cars, covered in a simi- 
 lar manner to the chaise marine, a door or shutter laid 
 across underneath the awning, after the fashion of a coun-' 
 ter, on which various articles were displayed for sale; for 
 the occasion of the election was as good as a fair to the 
 small dealers, and the public were therefore favored 
 v.ith the usual opportunity of purchasing uneatable gin- 
 gerbread, knives that would not cut, spectacles to increase 
 blindness, and other articles of equal usefulness. 
 
 While the dealers here displayed their ware, and were 
 vociferous in declaring its excellence, noisy groups passed 
 up and down on either side of these ambulatory shops, dis- 
 
 * A larcre basket of coarse wjcker-work, used mostly for carrying 
 
 XxxTi—Anglice, peat.
 
 316 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 cussing the merits of the candidates, predicting the result 
 of the election, or giving an occasional cheer for their re- 
 spective parties, with the twirl of a stick or the throwmg 
 up of a hat; while from the houses on both sides of the 
 street the scraping of fiddles, and the lilting of pipes, in- 
 creased the mingled din. 
 
 But the crowd was thickest and the uproar greatest in 
 front of the inn where Scatterbrain's committee sat, and 
 before the house of Murphy, who gave up all his establish- 
 ment to the service of the election, and whose stable-yard 
 made a capital place of mustering for the tallies of Egan'f 
 electors to assemble ere they marched to the jjoll. At lasi 
 the hour for opening the poll struck, the inn poured forth 
 the Scatterbrains, and Murphy's stable-yard the Eganites, 
 the two bodies of electors uttering thundering shouts of 
 defiance, as, with rival banners flying, they joined in one 
 common stream, rushing to give their votes — ^for as for 
 their voices, they were giving fheyn most liberally and 
 strenuously already. The dense crowd soon surrounded 
 the hustings in front of the court-house, and the throes and 
 heavings of this livmg mass resembled a turbulent sea 
 lashed by a tempest: — ^but what sea is more unruly than an 
 excited crowd? — what tempest fiercer than the breath of 
 political excitement? 
 
 Conspicuous amongst those on the hustings were both 
 the candidates, and their aiders and abettors on either side 
 — O'Grady and Furlong, Dick Dawson and Tom Durfy for 
 work, and Growling to laugh at them all. Edward O'Con- 
 nor was addressing the populace in a spirit-stirring appeal 
 to iheir pride and affections, stimulating them to support 
 %their tried and trusty friend, and not yield the honor of 
 their county either to fears or favors of a stranger, nor 
 copy the bad example which some (who ought to blush) 
 had set them, of betraying old friends and abandoning old 
 principles. Edward's address was cheered by those who 
 heard it — but being heard is not essential to the applause 
 attendant on political addresses, for those who do not hear 
 cheer quite as much as those who do. The old adage hath 
 it, " Show me your company, and 111 tell you who you 
 are;" — and in the spirit of the adage one might say, " Let 
 me see the speech-maker, an' 111 tell you what ne says. " 
 So when Edward O'Connor spoke, the boys welcomed him 
 mik a shout of '' Kedof the Hill forever!" — and knowing
 
 BANDY ANDY. 21? 
 
 to what tune his moutli would be opened, they cheered ac- 
 cordingly when he concluded. O'Grady, on eYincing a 
 desire to addres sthem, was not so successful; — the moment 
 he showed himself, taunts were flung at him : but spite of 
 this, attempting to frown down their dissatisfaction, he 
 began to speak; but he had not uttered six words when 
 his voice was drowned in the discordant yells of a trumpet. 
 It is scarcely necessary to tell the reader that the per- 
 former was the identical trumpeter of the preceding day, 
 whom O'Grady had kicked so unmercifully, who, in indig 
 nation at his wrongs, had gone over to the enemy; and 
 having, after a night's hard work, disengaged the cork 
 which Andy had crammed into his trumpet, appeared in 
 the crowd ready to do battle in the popular cause. " Wait,'' 
 he cried, *^'till that savage of a baste 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 a yell 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 threat effectually into exe- 
 cution, 'Grady saw whence the annoyance proceeded, 
 and shook his fist at the dehnquent, with protestations that 
 the police should drag him from the crowd, if he dared 
 to continue; but every threat was blighted in the bud by 
 the withering blast of a trumpet, which was regularly fol- 
 lowed by a peal of laughter from the crowd. O'Grady 
 stamped and swore with rage, and calling Turlong, sent 
 him to inform the sheriff how riotous the crowd were, and 
 requested him to have the trumpeter seized. 
 
 Furlong hurried off on his mission, and after a long search 
 for the potential functionary, saw him in a distant corner, 
 engaged in what appeared to be an urgent discussion be- 
 tweenhim and Murtough Murphy, who was talking in the 
 most jocular manner to the sheriif, who seemed anything 
 but amused with his argumentative merriment. The fact 
 was. Murphy, while pushing the interests of Egan with an 
 energy unsurpassed, did it all wath the utmost cheerful- 
 ness, and gave his opponents a laugh in exchange for the 
 point gained against them, and while he defeated, amused 
 them. Furlong, after shoving and elbowing his way 
 through the crowd, suffering from heat and exertion, came 
 fnssi?i(; up to the sheriff, wiping his face with a scented 
 cambric pocket-handkerchief. The sheriff and Murphy
 
 218 HAKDY ANDY. 
 
 were striding dose beside one of the polling-desks, and on 
 Furlong's lisping out, " Miste^ Shewiff !" Murphy recog- 
 nizing the voice and manner, turned suddenly round, and 
 with the most provoking cordiality addressed him thus, 
 with a smile and a nod: " Ah! Mister Furlong, 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 in- 
 dignant repetition of the provoking question put to him, 
 threw as much of defiance as he could in his namby-pamby 
 manner, and exclaimed, ''/vote for Egan!" 
 
 '' Thank you, sir,'*' said Murphy. "Record the yot<</^ 
 added he to the clerk. 
 
 There was loud laughter on one side, and anger as loud 
 on the other, at the way in which Murphy had entrapped 
 Furlong, and cheated him hito voting 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 coiildn't vote that way — it's a mistake, and 
 1 pwotest against the twick. " 
 
 " We've got the trick, and we'll keep it, however," said 
 Murphy. 
 
 Scatterbrain's agent said 'twas unfair, and desired the 
 polling-clerk not to record the vote. 
 
 "Didn't every one hear him say, '/ vote for Egan'f" 
 asked Murphy. 
 
 " But he didn't mean it, sir," said the agent. 
 
 "\ don't care what he meant, but I know he said it," 
 retorted Murphy; "and everyone round knows he said it; 
 and as I mean what I say myself, I suppose every other 
 
 fentleman does the same — down with the vote. Mister 
 'oUing-Olerk." 
 
 A regular wrangle now took place between the two 
 agents, amidst the laughter of the bystanders, whose mer- 
 riment was increased by Furlong's vehement assurances he 
 did not mean to vote as Murphy wanted to make it appear 
 he had; but the more he protested, the more the people 
 laughed. This increased his energy in fighting out the 
 point, until Scatterbrain's agent recommended liim to de-
 
 HANDY iNDY. 219 
 
 eist, for that he was onl}^ interrupting their own voters from 
 coming up. " Never mind now, sir," said the agent, *'I11 
 appeal to the assessor about that vote. " 
 
 " Appeal as much as you like/^ said Murtough; ** that 
 vote is as dead as a herring to you." 
 
 Furlong, finding further remonstrance unavailing, as 
 regarded his vote, delivered to the sheriff the message of 
 'Grady, who was boiling over with impatience, in the 
 meantime, at the delay of his messenger, and anxiously ex- 
 pecting the arrival of sheriff and police to coerce the vil- 
 lainous trumpeter and chastise the applauding crowd, which 
 became worse and worse every minute. 
 
 They exhibited a new source of provocation to O'Grady, 
 by exposing a rat-trap hung at the end of a pole, with the 
 caged vermin within, and vociferated, ''Eat, rat," in the 
 
 gauses of the trumpet. Scatterbrain, remembering the 
 earing they gave him the previous day, hoped to silence 
 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, and Scatterbrain 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 lacon" was the answer from a 
 stentorian voice amidst the multitude, who shouted with 
 laughter at the apt rejoinder, which they reiterated from 
 one end of the crowd to the other, and the cry of '' threas- 
 ury bacon " rang far and wide. 
 
 Scatterbrain and 'Grady consulted together on the hus- 
 tings what was to be done, while Dick the Devil was throw- 
 ing jokes to the crowd, and inflaming their mischievous 
 merriment, and Growling looking on with an expression of 
 internal dehght at the fun, uproar, and vexation around 
 him. It was just a dish to his taste, and he devoured it 
 with silent satisfaction. 
 
 "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 that moment 
 that his sweet son-in-law elect was voting against them,, 
 what would have been the consequence? 
 
 Another exhibition, insulting to O'Grady, now appeared 
 in the crowd — a chimnej-pot and weather-cock, after the
 
 $20 HAXDT A-S-DT. 
 
 fashion of his mother's, was stuck on a pole, and under- 
 neath was suspended an old coat, turned inside out; thia 
 double indication of his change, so peculiarly insulting, 
 was elevated before the hustings, amidst the jeers and 
 laughter of the people. O'Grady was nearly frantic — he 
 rushed to the front of the platform, he shook his fist at the 
 mockery, poured out every abusive epithet on its perpetra- 
 tors, and swore he would head the police himself and clear 
 the crowd. In reply, the crowd hooted, the rat-trap and 
 weather-cock were danced together after the fashion of 
 Punch and Judy, to the music of the trumpet; and another 
 pole made its appearance, with a piece of bacon on it, and 
 a i)lacard bearing the inscription of " Treasury bacon, ^' all 
 A^liich Tom Durfy had run off to procure at a huckster's 
 shop the moment he heard the waggish answer, which he 
 thus turned to account. 
 
 *' The military must be called out!" said O'Grady; and 
 with these words he left the platform to seek the sheriff. 
 
 Edward O'Connor, the moment he heard O'Grady's 
 threat, quitted the hustings also, in company with old 
 Growling. ''What a savage and dangerous temper that 
 man has!" said Edward; ''calling for the military when 
 the people have committed no outrage to require such in- 
 terference. " 
 
 " They have poked up the bear with their poles, sir, and 
 it is likely he'll give them a hug before he's done with 
 them," answered the doctor. 
 
 "But what need of miUtary.-^" indignantly exclaimed 
 Edward. "The people are only going on with the noise 
 and disturbance common to any election, and the chances 
 are, that savage man may influence the sheriff to provoke 
 the people, by the presence of soldiers, to some act which 
 would not have taken j^lace but for their interference; and 
 thus they themselves originate the offense which they are 
 forearmed with power to chastise. In England such ex- 
 treme measures are never resorted to until necessity compels 
 them. How I have envied Englishmen, when, on the oc- 
 casion of assizes, every soldier is marched from the town 
 while the judge is sitting; in Ireland the place of trial 
 bristles with bayonets! How much more must a people 
 respect and love the laws, whose own purity and justice 
 are their best safeguard — whose mherent majesty is suffi- 
 cient for their own protection! The sword of justice should
 
 HANDT ANDT. 221 
 
 never need the assistance of tlie swords of dragoons; and 
 in the election of their representatives, as well as at judicial 
 sittings, a people should be free from mihtarv despotism. " 
 
 ^'^But, as an historian, my dear young friend," said the 
 doctor, " I need not remind you, that dragoons have been 
 considered * good lookers-on ' in Ireland since the days of 
 Strafford." 
 
 ^^Ay!" said Edward; ''and scandalous it is, that the 
 abuses of the seventeenth century should be jjerpetuated in 
 the nineteenth.* While those Avho govern show, by the 
 means they adopt for supporting their authority, that their 
 rule requires undue force to uphold it, they tacitly teach 
 resistance to the people, and their practices imply that the 
 resistance is righteous." 
 
 "My dear Master Is^ed," said the doctor, ''you're a pa- 
 triot, and I'm sorry for you; you inherit the free opinions 
 • of your namesake *'of the hill,' of blessed memory; with 
 such sentiments you may make a very good Irish barrister, 
 but youll never be an Irish judge — and as for a silk gown, 
 faith you may leave the wearhig of that to your wife, for 
 stuff is all that will ever adorn your shoulders." 
 
 " Wen, I would rather have stuff' there than in my head," 
 answered Edwanl. 
 
 " Very epigiammatic, indeed. Master Ned," said the 
 doctor. '' Let us make a distich of it," iulded he, with a 
 chuckle; ''for, of a verity, some of the 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 heads." 
 
 ''Neat enough," said the doctor; " but you might con- 
 trive more sting in it: — something to the time of the im- 
 possibility of making ' a silk purse out of a sow's ear,' but 
 the facility of manufacturing silk gowns out of bores' 
 heads. " 
 
 " That's out of your bitter pill-box. Doctor," said Ned, 
 smiling. 
 
 * When Strafifoi-d's infamous project of the wholesale robbery of 
 Connaughl was put in practice, not being quite certain of his juries, 
 he writes that he will siml three hundred horse to thejsrovjnce 
 during the proceedings, as "good lookers-on,"
 
 222 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 <t 
 
 Put it into rh3'me, Ned — and set it to music — and 
 dedicate it to the bar mess, asid see how j^ou'Il rise in your 
 profession! Good-bye — I will be back again to see the fun 
 as soon as I can, hut I must go now and visit an old woman 
 who is in doubt whether she stands most in need of me or 
 the priest. It's wonderful, liow little people think of the 
 other world till they are going to leave this; and, with all 
 their praises of heaven, how very anxious they are to stay 
 out of it as long as they can. " 
 
 With this bit of characteristic sarcasm^ the doctor and 
 Edward separated. 
 
 Edward liad hardly left the hustings, when Murphy hur- 
 ried on the platform 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. ''I wanted to speak to him, but when he 
 comes back send him to me. In the meantime, Tom, run 
 down and bring up a batch of voters — we're getting a little 
 ahead, I think, with the bothering I'm giving them up 
 there, and now I want to bush them with good strong tal- 
 lies — run down to the yard, like a good fellow, and march 
 them up." 
 
 Off posted Tom Durfy on his mission, and Murphy re- 
 turned to the court-house. 
 
 Tom, on reaching Murphy's house, found a strange 
 posse of O'Grady's party hanging round the place, and one 
 of the fellows had backed a car against the yard gate, which 
 opened on the street, and was the outlet for Egan's voters. 
 By way of excuse for this, the car was piled with cabbages 
 for sale, and a couple of very unruly -pigB were tethered to 
 the shafts, and the strapping fellow who owned all kept 
 guard over them. Tom immediately told him he should 
 leave that place, and an altercation commenced; but even 
 an electioneering dispute could not but savor of fun and 
 repartee, between Paddies. 
 
 '' Be off!" said Tom. 
 
 "Sure I can't be ofE 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 harmh"
 
 HAXDY ANDY. 323 
 
 " You're stopi^ing up the gate ou purpose, and yon must 
 
 ''Sure your honor wouldn't spile my standi" 
 
 " Faith, ril 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,'" * 
 said Tom, seeing he had none ; for, in speaking of shoes, 
 Tom had no intention of alluding to the word clioux — and 
 thus making a French pun upon the cabbage — for Tom 
 did not umlerstand French, but rather despised it as a 
 Jack-a-dandy acquirement. 
 
 " Sure you wouldn't ruin my market, Misther Durfy." 
 
 "None of your humbugging — but be off at once," said 
 Tom, whose tone indicated he was very tnuch in earyiest. 
 
 " Not a nicer slip of a pig in the market than the same 
 pigs — I'm expectin' thirty shillin's apiece for them. " 
 
 " Faith, you'll get more than thirty shillings," cried 
 Tom, "' in less than thirty seconds, if you don't take your 
 dirty cabbage and blackguard pigs out o' that." 
 
 "Dirty cabbages!" cried the fellow, in a tone of sur- 
 prise. 
 
 The order to depart was renewed. 
 
 "Blackguard pigs!" cried Paddy, in affected wonder. 
 " Ah, Masther Tom, one would think it was afther din- 
 ner you wor." 
 
 "'What do you mean, you rap? — do you intend to say 
 I'm drunk?" 
 
 " Oh, no, sir! Bnt if it's not afther dinner wid you, 
 I think you wouldn't tarn up your nose at bacon and 
 greens." 
 
 " Oh, with all your joking," said Tom, laughing, "you 
 won't find me a 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 round the place, with a seeming view to hem in 
 Egan's voters, and interrupt their progress to the poll; but 
 the gate of theyard suddenly opened, and the fellows with- 
 in soon upset the car which impeded their egress, gave 
 
 * A saying among the Irish peasantry — meaning there is 
 danger in delay.
 
 2«4 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 freedom to the piffs, who used their liberty in eating the 
 cabbages, while their owner was making cause with hi» 
 party of O'Gradyites against the outbreak of Egan's men. 
 The affair was not one of importance; the numbers were 
 not sufficient to constitute a good row — it was but a hus- 
 tling affair, after all, and a slight scrimmage enabled Tom 
 Uurfy to head his men in a rush to the poll. 
 
 The polling was now prosecuted vigorously on both sides, 
 3ach party anxious to establish a majority on the first day 
 and of course the usual practices for facilitating theii 
 own, and retarding their opponent's progress were resorted 
 to. 
 
 Scatterbrain's party, to counteract the energetic moTe- 
 ment of the enemy's voters and Murphy's activity, got up 
 a mode of interruption seldom made use of, but of which 
 they availed themselves on the present occasion. It was 
 determined to put the oath of allegiance to all the Roman 
 Cathohcs, by which some loss of time to the Eganite party 
 was effected. 
 
 This gave rise to odd scenes and answers, occasionally: — 
 some of the fellows did not know what the oath of 
 allegiance meant; some did not know whether there 
 might not be a scruple of conscience against making 
 it; others, indignant of what they felt to be an insulting 
 mode of address, on the part of the person who said to them, 
 in a tone savoring of sujjremacy — " You're a Eoman 
 Catholic?" — would not answer immediately, and gave 
 dogged looks, and sometimes dogged answers; and it re- 
 quired address on the part of Egan's agents to make them 
 overcome such feelings, and expedite the work of voting. 
 At last the same herculean fellow who gave O'Grady the 
 fierce answer about the blunderbuss tenure he enjoyed, 
 came up to vote, and fairly bothered the querist with his 
 ready replies which, purposely, were never to the purpose. 
 The examination ran nearly thus: 
 
 " You're a Eoman Catholic?" 
 
 '' km I?" said the fellow. 
 
 *' Are you not?" demanded the agent. 
 
 "You say I am," was the answer. 
 
 " Come, sir, answer. What is your religionf** 
 
 *' The thrue religion. " 
 
 "What religion is that?*' 
 
 **My religjou,"
 
 HANDY AUDY. ^^5 
 
 " And what's your religion?" 
 
 " My mother's religion. " 
 
 " And what was your mother's religion?" 
 
 '' ^he tuk whisky in her tay." 
 
 " Come, now, I'll find you out, as cunning as you are/' 
 §ai<i tlie agent, piqued into an encounter of wits with 
 this fellow, whose baffling of every question pleased the 
 crowd. 
 
 " You hl«ss 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 ont." 
 
 " 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 il 
 you were likely to die?" 
 
 "Doctor Growlm'." 
 
 " Not for the priest?" 
 
 " I must first get a messenger." 
 
 "Confound your quibbling! tell me, then, what your 
 opinions are — your conscientious 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 rent; and I'm of the same opinion myself." 
 
 A roar of laughter followed this answer, and dum- 
 foundered the agent for a time; but, angered at the suc- 
 cessful quibbling of the sturdy and wily fellow before him, 
 fie at last declared, with much severity of manner, that 
 he miist have a direct reply. " I insist, sir, on your 
 answering at once, are you a Eoman Catholic?" 
 
 " I am," said the fellow. 
 
 "And could not you say so at once?" repeated the 
 oflBcer. 
 
 " 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 — jcrx wor dhrivin' crass 
 words and cruked questions at me, ana I gev you answers
 
 g36 HANDY AITDT. 
 
 to match them, for sure I thought it \ras manners to 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 being taken of his impertinent answer. 
 
 *' I hope the oath is not ivoighty, sir, for my conscience 
 is tindher since the last alibi I swore." 
 
 The business of the interior was now suspended for a 
 time by the sounds of fierce tumult which arose from with- 
 out. Some rushed from the court-house to the platform 
 outside, and beheld the crowd in a state of great excite- 
 ment, beating back the police, who had been engaged in 
 endeavoring to seize the persons and things which had of- 
 fended O'Grady, and the police falling back for support on 
 a party of military which O'Grady had prevailed on the 
 sheriff to call out. The sheriff was a weak, irresolute man, 
 and was overpersuaded by such words as "mob" and 
 " riot," and breaches of the peace being about to be com- 
 mitted, if the ruffians were not checked beforehand. The 
 wisdom of preventive measui'es was preached, and the rest 
 of the hackneyed phrases were paraded, which brazen-faced 
 and iron-handed oppressors are only too famihar with. 
 
 The people were now roused, and thoroughly defeated 
 the police, who were forced to fly to the lines of the mili- 
 tary party for protection; having affected this object, the 
 crowed retained their position, and did not attempt to as- 
 sault the soldiers, though a very firm and louring front was 
 presented to them, and shouts of defiance against the 
 ** Peelers "* rose loud and long. 
 
 " A round of ball-cartridge would cool their courage," 
 said O'Grady. 
 
 The English officer in command of the party, looking 
 with wonder and reproach upon him, asked if lie had the 
 command of the party. 
 
 " No, sir — the sheriff, of course — but if I were in his 
 place, I'd soon disperse the rascals." 
 
 * The name given to the police by the people — the force being 
 first established by Sir Robert Peel, then ^Ir. Peel, Secretarj foe 
 Ireland
 
 HAXDY ANBT. Hfii 
 
 "Did you evei- witness the effect of a fusillade, sir?'* in- 
 quired the officer. 
 
 " Xo, sir," said O^Grady, gruffly; " but I suppose I know 
 pretty well what it is. " 
 
 '^ For the sake of humanity, sir, I hope you do not, or I 
 am willing to believe you would not talk so lightly of it; 
 but it is singular how much fonder civilians are of urging 
 measures that end in blood, than those whose profession is 
 arms, and who know how disastrous is their use." 
 
 The police were ordered to advance again and seize the 
 '■ ringleaders:" they obe3'ed unwillingly; but being saluted 
 with some stones, their individual wrath was excited, and 
 they advanced to chastise the mob, who again drove them 
 back; and a nearer approach to the soldiers was made 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 the threatening aspect of the mob, and wished to 
 have his precious person under shelter before hostilities 
 commenced; so, with pallid lips, and his teeth chattering 
 with fear, he exclaimed: 
 
 "Xo! no! no I — don't fire — don't fire — don't be precipi- 
 tate: besides I haven't read the Riot Act." 
 
 '* There's no necessity for firing, I shoitld say," said the 
 captain. 
 
 " I thought not, captain — I hope not captain," said the 
 sheriff', who now assumed 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 — " the sacrifice of 
 human life — I couldn't, sir — I can't, sir — ^besides, the Eiot 
 Act — haven't it about me — must be read, you know. Mister 
 O'Grady." 
 
 "luiot always," said O'Grady, fiercely. 
 
 *'But the inquiry is always very strict after, if it is not, 
 sir — I should not like the effusion of human blood, sir, 
 unless the Kiot Act was read, and the thing done regidarly 
 
 — don't think I care for the d d rascals a button, sir — 
 
 only the regularity, you know; and the effusion of human 
 biood is serious, and the inquiry, too, without the Eiot 
 Act. Captain, would you oblige "me to fall back a little 
 closer round the court-house, and maintain the freedom of 
 election? Besides, the Eiot Act is upstairs in my desk. 
 The com-t-house must be protected, you know, and I just
 
 2^8 HANDY AXDT. 
 
 want to run upstairs for the Eiot Act; Til be down again 
 in a moment. Cajitain, do oblige me — draw your men a 
 leetle closer round the court-house." 
 
 "Ym 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 with me; and we are stronger where we are; 
 the court-house is completely covered, and while my men 
 are under arms here, you may rely on it the crowd is com- 
 pletely 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 the captain, with a sardonic grin. 
 
 " You seem to be equally sparing of your humanity, sir," 
 returned the captain. 
 
 " 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 stern contempt. 
 
 There is no knowing what this bitter bandying of hard 
 words might have led to, had it not been interrupted by 
 the appearance of the sheriff at one of the windows of the 
 court-house; there, with theEiot Act in his hand, he called 
 out: 
 
 " Now I've read it — fire away, boys — fire away!" and all 
 his compunction about the effusion of blood vanished the 
 moment his own miserable carcass was safe from harm. 
 Again he waved the Eiot Act from the M'indow, and vocif- 
 erated, ''Fire away, boys!" as loud as his frog-like voice 
 2iermitted. 
 
 " 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 of his senses with fear, and I'll not obey such a 
 serious command from a madman." 
 
 " Do you dare disobey the orders of the sheriff, sir?" 
 thundered O'Grady. 
 
 " I am responsible for my act, sir," said the captain, 
 " seriously responsible; but I will not slaughter unarmed 
 people until I see further and fitter cause. " 
 
 The sheriff' had vanished — he was nowhere to be seen— 
 and O'Grady as a magistrate had now the command. See*
 
 HANDY ANDl. 229 
 
 ing the cool and courageous man he had to deal with in 
 the mihtary chief, he determined to push matters to such 
 an extremity that he should be forced, in self-defense, to 
 fire. With this object in view he ordered a fresh advance 
 of the police upon the people, and in this third affair mat- 
 ters assumed a more serious aspect; sticks and stones were 
 used with more effect, and the two parties being nearer to 
 each other, the missiles meant only for the police overshot 
 the mark and struck the soldiers, who bore the painful 
 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, enraged almost to madness as he was, could not 
 gainsay it ; and he went forward himself to withdraw the 
 police force. O'Grady's presence increased the rage of the 
 mob, whose blood was now thoroughly up, and as the 
 police fell back they were pressed by the inf urated people, 
 who now began almost to disregard the presence of the 
 military, and poured down in a resistless stream upon them. 
 O'Grady repeated his command to the captain, who, 
 finding matters thus driven to extremity, saw no longer the 
 possibility of avoiding bloodshed; and the first prepatory 
 word of the fatal order was given, the second on his lips, 
 and the long file of bright muskets flashed in the sun ere 
 they should quench his light forever to some, and carry 
 darkness to many a heart and hearth, "when a young and 
 handsome man, mounted on a noble horse, came plunging 
 and plowing his way through the crowd, and, rushing be- 
 tween the half-leveled muskets and those who in another 
 instant would have fallen their victims, he shouted in a 
 voice whose noble tone carried to its hearers involuntary 
 obedience, '•' Stop I — for God's sake, stop I" Then wheeling 
 . his horse suddenly round, he charged along the advancing 
 front of the people, plunging his horse fiercely upon them, 
 and waving them back with his hand, enforcing his com- 
 mands with words as well as actions. The crowd fell back 
 as he pressed upon them with fieiy horsemanship unsur- 
 passable by an Arab; and as his dark clustering hair 
 streamed about his noble face, pale from excitement, and 
 with flashing eyes, he wa^ a model worthy of the best day?
 
 330 HANUT ANDl. 
 
 of Grecian art — ay, and lie had a soul worthy of the most 
 glorious times 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 by the brutality of O'Grady beyond his patience, 
 in the excitement of the moment, was urged beyond the 
 habitual parlance of a gentleman, and swore "vehemently, 
 " I'll be damned if I do I I wouldn't run the risk of shoot- 
 ing that noble fellow for all the magistrates in your 
 county. " 
 
 O'Connor had again turned round, and rode up to the 
 mihtary party, having heard the word " fire!" repeated. 
 
 *'For mercy's sake, sir, don't fire, and I pledge you my 
 soul the crowd shall disperse." 
 
 "Ay!" cried O'Grady, "they won't obey the laws nor the 
 
 magistrates; but they'll listen fast enough to a d d rebel 
 
 like you." 
 
 "Liar and rufiian!" exclaimed Edward. "I'm a better 
 and more loyal subject than you, who provoke resistance to 
 the laws you should have honored. ■'' 
 
 At the word "liar," O'Grady, now quite frenzied, at- 
 tempted to seize a musket from a soldier beside him; and 
 had he succeeded in obtaining possession of it, Edward 
 O'Connor's days had been numbered; but the soldier would 
 not give up his firelock, and O'Grady, intent on immediate 
 vengeance, 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 fierce shout, and were about to advance, when the 
 captain, with admirable presence of mind, seized O'Grady, 
 dragged him away from his hold, and gave freedom to 
 Edward, who instantly used it again to charge the advanc- 
 ing line of the mob, and drive them back. 
 
 "Back, boys, back!" he cried, "don't give your enemies 
 a triumph by being disorderly. Disperse — retire into 
 your houses, let nothing tempt you to riot — collect round 
 your tally-rooms, and come up quietly to the polling — and 
 you will yet have a peaceful triumph." 
 
 The crowd, obeying, gave three cheers for Ked-o'-the- 
 Hill," and the dense mass, which could not be awed, and
 
 HANDY ANDY. 231 
 
 dreaded not the engines of war, melted away before the 
 breath of peace. 
 
 As they retired on one side, the soldiers were ordered to 
 their quarters on the other, while their captain and Edward 
 O'Connor stood in the midst; but ere they separated, these 
 two, with charity in their souls, waved their hands toward 
 eaah other in token of amity, and parted, verily, in friend- 
 ship. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 After the incidents just recorded, of course great con- 
 fusion and excitement existed, during which O'Grady was 
 forced back into the court-house in a state bordering on 
 insanity. Inflamed as his furious passions had been to the 
 top of their bent, and his thirst of revenge still remaining 
 xmslacked, foiled in all his movements, and flung back as 
 it were into the seething cauldron of his own hellish tem- 
 per, he was a pitiable sight, foaming at the mouth like a 
 wild animal, and uttering the most horrid imprecations. 
 On Edward O'Connor jDrinciimlly his curses fell, with de- 
 nunciations of immediate vengeance, and the punishment 
 of dismissal from the service was prophesied on oath for 
 the English captain. The terrors of a court-martial 
 gleamed fitfully through the frenzied mind of the rav- 
 ing Squire for the soldier; and for O'Connor, instant death 
 at his own iiands was his momentary cry. 
 
 " Find the rascal for me,"' he exclaimed, " that I may 
 
 call him out and shoot him like a dog — yes, by , a dog 
 
 — a dog; I'm disgraced while he lives — I wish the villain 
 liad tliree lives that 1 might take them all at once — all — 
 nil !" and he stretched out his hands as he spoke, and 
 grasped at the air as if in imagination he clutched the vis- 
 ionary lives his blood-thirsty wishes conjured up. 
 
 Edward, as soon as he saw the crowd dispersed, return- 
 ed to the hustings and sought Dick Dawson, that he 
 might be in readiness to undertake, on his part, the arrange- 
 ment of the hostile meeting, to which he knew he should 
 be immediately called. " Let it be over, my dear Dick, as 
 Boon as possible," said Edward; " it's not a case in which 
 delay can be of any service; the insult was mortal betwee'^ 
 us, and the sooner expiated by a meetnig the better "
 
 235 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 ''Don't be so agitated, Ned," said Dick; ''fair and easy, 
 man — fair and easy — keep yourself cool." 
 
 " Dear Dick — I'll be cool on the ground, but not till 
 then — I want the meeting oyer before my father hears oi 
 the quarrel; Fm his only child, Dick, and you know how 
 he loves me!" 
 
 He wrung Dick's hand as he spoke, and his eye glistened 
 witii tenderness; but with the lightning quickness of 
 thought all gentle feeling vanished as he saw Scatterbrain 
 struggling his way toward him, and read in his eye the 
 purport of his approach. He communicated to Edward 
 his object in seeking him, and was at once referred to 
 Dawson, who instantly retired with him and arranged an 
 immediate meeting. This was easily done, as they had 
 their pistols with them since the duel in the morning; and 
 if there be those who think it a little too much of a good 
 thing to have two duels in one day, pray let them remem- 
 ber it was election time, and even in sober England that 
 period often gives rise to personalities which call for the 
 intervention of the code of honor. Only in Ireland the 
 thing is sooi-er over. We seldom have three columns of a 
 newspaper filled with notes on the subject, numbered from 
 1 to 25. * Gentlemen don't consider whether it is too soon 
 or too late to fight, or whether a gentbman is perfectly en- 
 titled to call hijn out or not. The title in Ireland is gen- 
 erally considered sutficient in the tviU to do it, and few 
 there would wait for the poising of a very delicately bal- 
 anced scale of etiquette before going to the ground; they 
 would be more likely to fight first, and leave the world to 
 argue about the niceties atter. 
 
 In the present instance a duel was unavoidable, and it 
 was to be feared a mortal one, for deadly insult had been 
 given on both sides. 
 
 The rumor of the hostile meeting flew like wildfire 
 through tlie town, and when the parties met in a field 
 about a quarter of a mile beyond the bridge, an anxious 
 crowd was present. The police were obliged to be in 
 strong force on the ground to keep back the people, who 
 were not now, as au liour before, in the town, in uproari- 
 
 * Just such a lengthy conc'snondence had appeared in the Loo* 
 don journals wiien the tirst eduion of tliis book was published.
 
 HANDT ANDY. 233 
 
 ous noise and action, but still as death; not a murnmr 
 was amongst them; the excitement of love for the noble 
 young champion, w hose life was in danger for his care of 
 them, held them spell-bound in a tranquillity almost fear- 
 ful. 
 
 The aspect of the two principals was in singular con- 
 trast. On the one side a man burning for revenge, who, 
 to use a common but terrible parlance, desired to " wash 
 out the dishonor put upon him in blood. ^' The other was 
 there, regretting that cause existed for the awful arbitra- 
 ment, and only anxious to defend his own, not take an- 
 other's life. To sensitive minds the reaction is always 
 painful of having insulted another, "when the excitement 
 is over which prompted it. When the hot blood which in- 
 flamed the brain runs in cooler currents, the man of feel- 
 ing always regrets, if he does not reproach himself with, 
 having urged his fellow-man to break the commandments 
 of the Most High, and deface, perhaps annihilate, the form 
 that was moulded in His image. The words "liar and 
 ruffian" haunted Edward's reproachfully; but then the 
 provocation — "rebel I" — no gentleman could brook it. 
 Because his commiseration for a people had endeared him 
 to them, was he to be called " rebel " f Because, at the risk 
 of his own life, he had preserved perhaps scores, and pre- 
 vented an infraction of the law, was lie to be called " rebel " ? 
 He stood acquitted before his own conscience: — after all, 
 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, de- 
 liberately raised his pistol with deadly aim, and Edward 
 was thus enabled to fire first, yet with such cool precision, 
 that his shot took effect as he intended; O'Grady's arm was 
 ripped up from the wrist to the elbow; but so determined 
 was his will, and so firm his aim, that the wound, severe 
 as it was, produced but a slight twitch in his hand, which 
 threw it up slightly, and saved Edward's life, for the ball 
 passed through his hat just above his head. 
 
 O'Grady's arm instantly after dropped to his side, the 
 pistol fell from his hand, and he staggered, for the pain 
 of the w^ound was extreme. His second ran to his assist- 
 ance. 
 
 " It is only in the arm/' eaid O'Grady, firmly, though
 
 234 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 his voice was changed 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 were loaded. " 
 
 "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 afresh 
 pistol to Edward. "To give the devil his due," said 
 Dick, "he has great pluck, for you hit liim hard — see how 
 pale he looks — I don't think he can hurt you much this 
 time — but watch him well, my dear Ned." 
 
 The seconds Avithdrew; but with all O'Grady's desperate 
 courage, he could not lift the pistol with his right arm, 
 which, though hastily bound in a handkerchief, was bleed- 
 ing profusely, and racked Avith torture. On finding his 
 right hand powerless, such was his unflinching courage, 
 that he took the pistol in his left; this of course impaired 
 his power of aim, and his nerve was so shattered by his 
 bodily suffering, that his j^istol was discharged before com- 
 ing to the level, and Edward saw the sod torn up close beside 
 his foot. He then, of course, fired in the air. O'Grady 
 would have fallen but for the immediate assistance of his 
 friends; he was led from the ground and placed in a car- 
 riage, and it was not until Edward O'Connor mounted his 
 horse to ride away, that the crowd manifested their feel- 
 ings. Then three tremendous cheers arose; and the shouts 
 of their joy and triumph reached the wounded mau as he 
 was driven slowly from the ground. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXL 
 
 The Widow Flanagan had long ago determined that, 
 whenever the election should take place, she would take 
 advantage of the great influx of visitors that event would 
 produce, and give a grand party. Her preparations were 
 all made to secure a good muster of her country friends, 
 when once the day of nomination was fixed; and aiter tho
 
 SANDY ANDY. 235 
 
 election began* she threw out all her hooks and lines in 
 every direction, to catch every straggler worth having, 
 whom the election brought into the town. It required 
 some days to do this; ar d it was not until the eve of the 
 fifth, that her house was turned upside down and inside out 
 for the reception of the numerous guests whose company 
 she expected. 
 
 The toil of the day's election was over; the gentlemen 
 had dined and refreshed themselves with creature comforts; 
 the vicissitudes, and tricks, and chance of the last twelve 
 hours were canvassed — when the striking of many a clock, 
 or the consultation of the pocket-dial, warned those who 
 were invited to Mrs. Flanagan's party, that it was time 
 to wash off the dust of the battle-field from their faces, and 
 mount fresh Hnen and cambric. Those who were pleased 
 to call themselves " good fellows " declared for " another 
 bottle;" the faint-hearted swore that an autograph invita- 
 tion from Venus herself to the heathen Olympus, with nec- 
 tar and ambrosia for tea and bread-and-butter, could not 
 tempt them from the Christian enjoyment of a feather-bed 
 after the fag of such a day; but the preux chevaliers — 
 those who did deserve to win a fair lady — shook off sloth 
 and their morning trousers, and taking to tights and ao- 
 tivity, hurried to the party of the buxom widow. 
 
 The widow was in her glory; hospitable, she enjoyed re- 
 ceiving her friends — mirthful, she looked forward to along 
 night of downright sport — coquettish, she would have good 
 opportunity of letting Tom Durfy see how attractive she 
 was to the men — while from the women her love of gossip 
 and scandal (was there ever a lady in her position without 
 it?) would have ample gratification in the accumulated news 
 of the county of twenty 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 proper re- 
 ception-room for her guests, Avho were, therefore, received 
 in a smaller apartment, where tea and coffee, toast and 
 muffins, ladies and gentlemen, were all smoking-hot to- 
 gether, and the candles on the mantel-piece trickling down 
 rivulets of fat in the most sympathetic manner, under the 
 influence of the gentle sighing of a broken pane of glass, 
 M'hich the head of an inquiring youth in the street had stove 
 in, while flattening his nose against it in the hope of get-
 
 336 HADNY ANDY. 
 
 ting a glimpse of the company through the opening in the 
 window-curtain. 
 At last, when the room could hold no more, the com- 
 
 f)any were drafted of!' to the dancing-room, which had onh 
 ong deal forms placed against the wall to rest the weary 
 after the exertions of the jig. The aforesaid forms, by the 
 bye, were borrowed from the chapel; the old wigsby who 
 had the care of them for some time doubted the propriety 
 of the sacred property being put to such a profane use, un- 
 til the widow's arguments convinced him it was quite right, 
 after she had given him a tenpenny-piece. As the danc- 
 mg-room could not boast of a luster, the defficiency 
 was supplied by tin sconces hung against the wall; for 
 ormulu branches are not expected to be plenty in the prov- 
 inces. But let the widow be heard for herself, as she 
 bustled through her guests and caught a critical glance at 
 her arrangements: " What's that you're faulting now? — is 
 it my deal seats without cushions? Ah, you're a lazy Lar- 
 ry, 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 eying my tin sconces there; well, sure they have 
 them at the county ball, when candlesticks are scarce, and 
 what would you expect grander from a poor lone woman? 
 besides, we must have plenty of lights, or how could the 
 beaus see the girls? — though I see, Harry Cassidy, by your 
 sly look, that yon think they look as well in the dark — ah! 
 you divil !" and she slapped his shoulder 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 beating 
 them, ain't we? Ah! the old country forever. I hope 
 Edward O'Connor will be here. Come, begin the dance; 
 there's the piper and the fiddler in the corner as idle as a 
 milestone without a number. Tom Durfy, don't ask 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, 1 couldn't 
 refuse the stranger from Dublin, and the English captain 
 that will be there by and by; he's a nice man, too, and long 
 life to him, wouldn't fire on the people the other day; I 
 vow to the Virgin, all the women in the room ought to kiss 
 him when he comes in. Ah, doctor! there you are; there's 
 Mrs. Gubbins in the corner dying to liave a chat with you; 
 go over to her. Who's that taasiiny the piano there? Ah!
 
 HANDT ANDY. 257 
 
 James Reddy, it's you, I ^ee. I hope it's in tune; ''tis only 
 four mouths since the tuner was here. I hope you've a 
 new song for us, James. The tuner is so scarce, Mrs. 
 Riley, in the country — not like Dublin; but we poor coun- 
 try people, you know, must put up with what we can get; 
 not like you citizens, who has lashings of luxuries as easy 
 as peas." Then, in a confidential wnisper, she said, "I 
 hope your daughter has practiced the new piece well to- 
 day, for I couldn't be looking after her, you know, to-day, 
 being in such a bustle with my party; I was just Uke a dog 
 in a fair, in and out everywhere; but I Jicqye ^he'^ perfect in 
 the piece;" then, still more confidentially, she added, "for 
 he's here — ah! 1 wish it was, Mrs. Eiley;" then, with a 
 nod and a Avuik, off she rattled through the room with a 
 word for everybody. 
 
 The Mrs. Riley, to whom she was so confidential, was a 
 friend from Dublin, an atrociously vulgar woman, with a 
 more vulgar daughter, who were on a visit with Mrs. Flan- 
 agan. The widow and the mother thought Murtougli 
 Murphy would be a good speculation for the daughter to 
 " cock her cap at " (to use their own phrase), and with this 
 view the visit to the country was projected. But matters 
 did not prosjjer; Murphy was not much of a marrying 
 man; and if ever he might be caught in the toils of Hymen, 
 some frank, joyous, unaffected, dashing girl would have 
 been the only one likely to serve a writ on the jovial at- 
 torney's heart. Now, Miss Riley was, to use Murtougli 
 Murphy's own jjhrase, " a batch of brass and a stack of af- 
 fectation," and the airs she attempted to play off on the 
 country folk (Murphy in particular) only made her an ob- 
 ject for his mischievous merriment; as an example, we may 
 as well touch on one httle incident en passant. 
 
 The widow had planned one day a walking party to a 
 picturesque ruin, not far from the town, and determmed 
 that Murphy should give his arm to Miss Riley; for the 
 party was arranged in couples, with a most deadly design 
 on the liberty of the attorney. At the appointed hour all 
 had arrived but Murphy; the widow thought it a happy 
 chance, so she hurried off the party, leaving Miss Riley to 
 wait and follow under his escort. In about a quarter of 
 an hour he came, having met the widow in the street, who 
 sent him back for Miss Riley. Kow Murtough saw the 
 trap wliich was intended for him, and thought it fair to
 
 238 HAKDY ANDY. 
 
 make what fun he could of the affair, and being ah'eady 
 sickened by various disgusting exhibitions 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 ushered into the little drawing-room; and there 
 was that very full-blown young lady, 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 reclining attitude; with a 
 sentimental droop of the head over a greasy novel ; her fig- 
 ure was rather developed by her posture, indeed more so 
 than Miss Riley quite intended, for her ankles were not 
 unexceptionable, and the position of her feet revealed 
 rather more. A bonnet and green veil lay on the hearth- 
 rug, and her shawl hung over the handle of the fire-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 rollicking tone. 
 
 ''Oh! Miste' Murphy, you are so odd/' 
 
 " Odd, am I— how am I odd?" 
 
 ''Oh! 60 odd." 
 
 " Well, you^d better put on your bonnet and come walk, 
 and we can talk of my oddity after. " 
 
 " Oh, indeed, I caion't walk." 
 
 "Can't walk!" exclaimed Murphy. "Why can't you 
 walk? I was sent for you." 
 
 "'Deedlcawn't." 
 
 " Ah, now!" said Murphy, giving her a little tender poke 
 of ois forefinger on the shoulder. 
 
 '' Don% Mister Murphy, 'pray don'f 
 
 " But why won't you walk?" 
 
 " I'm too delicate. " 
 Murphy uttered a very long "Oh! ! ! ! !" 
 
 " 'Deed I am, Miste' Murj)hy, though you may disbelieve 
 it." 
 
 " Well — a nice walk is the best thing in the world for the 
 health. Come along!" 
 
 " Cawn't indeed; a gentle walk on a terrace, or a shad- 
 owy avenue, is all very well — the Rotunda Gardens, for 
 instance. " 
 
 " Not forgetting the military bands that play there," 
 said Murphy, " together with the oflBcers of all the bar-
 
 HAKDY AKDY. 2^9 
 
 racks ill Dublin, clinking their sabers at their heels along 
 the gravel walks, all for the small charge of a li'penny 
 bit." 
 
 Miss Riley gave a reproachful look and shrug at the 
 vulgar mention of a "fi'penny bit/' Avhich Murphy pur- 
 posely said to shock her " Brummagem gentility." 
 
 *' 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 horrid rough country walks — these 
 Tnasndine M'alks, 1 may say — are not consistent 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 his hands into his pockets, and fixing 
 his eyes on her feet, which still maintained their original 
 position on the fender — " I'll tell you what it is. Miss Riley; 
 by the vartue of my oath, if your other leg is a match for 
 the one I see, the divil a harm a trot from this to Dublin 
 would do you!" 
 
 Miss Riley gave a faint scream, and popped her legs 
 under her chair, while Murphy ran off in a shout of laugh- 
 ter, and joined the jsarty, to whom he made no secret of 
 his joke. 
 
 But all this did not damp Miss Riley's hopes of winning 
 him. She changed her plan; and seeing he did not bow 
 to what she considered the supremacy of her very elegant 
 manners, she set about feigning at once admiration and 
 dread of him. She would sometimes lift her eyes to Mur- 
 tough witli a languishing expression, and declare she never 
 knew any one she was so afraid of; but even this double 
 attack on his vanity could not turn Murphy's flank, and 
 so a very laughable flirtation went on between them, he 
 letting her employ all the enginery of her sex against him, 
 with a mischievous enjoyment in her blindness at not see- 
 ing she was throwing away her powder and shot. 
 
 But to return to the party; a rattling country-dance 
 called out at once the energies of the piper, the fiddler, 
 and the ladies and gentlemen, and left those who had more 
 activity in their heads than their heels to sit on the forms 
 in the background and exercise their tongues in open 
 scandal of their mutual friends and acquaintances under 
 cover ot the music, which prevented the most vigorous 
 talker from being heard f urtner than liis or her next-door
 
 240 HAKDY ANDT. 
 
 neighbor. Dr. Growling had gone over to Mrs. Gubbins^^ 
 as desired, and was buried deep in gossip. 
 
 " What an extraordinary affair that was about ^Misa 
 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 
 iuimacuiate madman — God keep us from harm! — said to 
 poor Mrs. O'Gratly, in a great rage, ' Where have you 
 brought up your daughters to go to, ma'am?' said he; and 
 she, poor woman, said, ' To church, my dear,' thinking it 
 was the different religion tlie Saracen was after; so, says 
 he, ' Church, indeed! there's the church she's gone to, 
 ma'am,' says he, turning down a 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 Dmvn," said 
 the doctor. 
 
 " That's good, docthor — indeed, that's good. ' She was 
 caught in bed,' says I; and ' It's the diocese of Doion,' says 
 you : faith, that's good. I wish the diocese was your own; 
 for you're funny enough to be a bi£,hop, docthor, you lay 
 howld of everything. " 
 
 " That's a great qualification for a miter, ma'am," said 
 the doctor. 
 
 " And the poor young man that has got her is not worth 
 a farthing, I hear, docthor." 
 
 "Then he must be the curate, ma'am; though I don't 
 think it's a chapel of ease he has got into." 
 
 " Oh! what a tongue you have, docthor," said she, laugh 
 ing; "faith, you'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 my destrTactiveness and ac- 
 quisitiveness small." 
 
 "Ah, there you go off on another tack; and what a 
 fumiy new thing that is jou talk of I — that free knowledge
 
 HANDY ANDY. 241 
 
 or crow-knowledge, or whatever sort of knowledge you call 
 it. And there's one thing I want to ask you about: there's 
 a bump the ladies have the gentlemen always laugh at, I 
 remark. " 
 
 " That's very rude of them^ ma'am/' said the doctor 
 dryly. " Is it in the anterior region, or the — " 
 
 " Docthor, don't talk queer." 
 
 "^I'm only speaking scientifically, ma'am.'' 
 
 " Well, I think your scientific discourse is only an ex- 
 cuse for saying impudent things; I mean the back of their 
 heads. " 
 
 " I thought so, ma'am." 
 
 " They call it— dear me, I forget — something — motive — 
 motive — it's Latin — but I am no scholar d, 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. Gub- 
 bins squinted frightfully; but Mrs. Gubbins did not know 
 that, so she went on. 
 
 "The bump I mean, docthor, is motive something — 
 motive — motive — I have it! — motive-wess." 
 
 " Now I know what you mean," said the doctor; ''am- 
 ativeness. " 
 
 ''That's it," said Mrs. Gubbins; ''they call it number 
 one, sometimes; I suppose amativeness is Latin for num- 
 ber one. Now, what does that bump mean?" 
 
 "Ah, madam," said the doctor, puzzled for a moment 
 to give an explanation; but in a few seconds he answered, 
 " That's a beautiful provision of nature. That, ma'am, 
 is the organ which makes your sex take compassion on 
 ours. "* 
 
 "Wonderful!" said Mrs. Gubbins; " but how good nat- 
 ure is in giving us provision ! and I don't think there is a 
 finer provision county in Ireland than this. " 
 
 " Certainly not, ma'am," said the doctor; but the mo- 
 ment Mrs. Gubbins began to speak of provisions, he was 
 sure she would get into a very solid discourse about her 
 
 * This very ingenious answer was really given by an Irish pro 
 Jessor to an over inquisitive lady.
 
 343 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 own farms; so lie left his scat beside her, and went 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 was looking on in amused 
 wonder at this specimen of vulgar effrontery, whom he had 
 christened " The Brazen Baggage " the first time he saw 
 her. 
 
 " You are looking at my daughter, sir,'' said the de- 
 lighted 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 
 lather in a Juvenile style. 
 
 " I mean, sir, that you must excuse any little awkward- 
 ness about her — that all arises out of timidity — she was lost 
 with bashfulness till I roused her out of it — but now I think 
 she is beginning to have a little self-possession. " 
 
 The doctor was amused, and took a large pinch of snuff; 
 he enjoyed the phrase " beginning to have a little self- 
 possession " being applied to the 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)* French. Misther Low-jeer 
 (Logier) hasn't the like of her in his academy on the pianya; 
 and as for the harp, you'd think she wouldn't lave a 
 sthring in it." 
 
 " Siie must be a treasure to her teachers, ma'am," said 
 the doctor. 
 
 "Faith, you may well say threasure — it costs handfuls 
 o' money; but sure, while there's room for improvement, 
 every apartment must be attended to, and the vocal apart- 
 ment is filled by Sir John — fifteen shillin'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, bo it is, 
 
 * My own worthy and excellent master, to whom I gladly pay 
 tjjis tribute of kindly remembrance
 
 HANDY ANDY. 24o 
 
 with them tip-top men, and ruins one a'most to have a 
 daughter; every sh;)ke T get out of her is to the time of a 
 ten-poun' note, at least. You shall hear her by and by; 
 the minit the dancin' is over, she shall sing you the 'Be- 
 wildhered Maid. ' Do you know the ' Bewildhered Maid/ 
 sir?" 
 
 *' 1 haven't the honor of her acquaintance^ ma'am/' said 
 the doctor. 
 
 The dancing was soon over, and the mother's threat put 
 into execution. Miss Eiley was led over to the piano by 
 the widow, with the usual protestations that she was hoarse. 
 It took some time to get the piano ready, for an extensive 
 clearance was to be made from it of cups and saucers, and 
 half-empty glasses of negus, before it could be opened; 
 then, after various thrummings and huramings and haw- 
 mgs, the " Bewildhered Maid " made her appearance in the 
 wildest possible manner, and the final shriek was quite 
 worthy of a maniac. Loud a232)lause followed, and the 
 wriggling Miss Riley was led from the piano by James 
 Reddy, who had stood at the back of her chair, swaying back- 
 ward and forward to the music, with a maudlin expression 
 of sentiment on his face, and a suppressed exclamation of 
 '' B-u-tiful!" after every extra shout from the young lady. 
 
 Growling listened with an expression of as much dissat- 
 isfaction as if he 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'm sure it was out of tune." 
 
 James Reddy led back Miss Riley to her mamma, who 
 was much delighted with the open manifestations of " the 
 poet's " admiration. 
 
 " She ought to be proud, sir, of your conjunction, I'm 
 sure. A poet like you, sir! what beautiful rhymes them 
 wor you did on the 'lection." 
 
 "A trifle, ma'am — a mere trifle— a little occasional 
 thing." 
 
 '*0h! but them two beautiful lines — 
 
 " ' We tread the land that bore us, 
 Our green flag glitters o'er us I'" 
 
 '' Tliey are only a quotation, ma'am," said Reddy. 
 '^Oh, like every man of true genius, sir, you try a»^
 
 ^4 HANJ>Z ANL'Y. 
 
 UTiilervalue vour oM-n work; but call them lines what von 
 like, to my taste they are the most beautiful lines in the 
 thing you done. " 
 
 Eeddy did not know what to answer, and his confusion 
 was increased by catcliing old Growling's eye, who was 
 chuckling at the 'mal-d-prupos speech of the flourishing 
 Mrs. Kiley. 
 
 " Don't you sing yourself, sir?" said that lady. 
 
 " To be sure he does, " cried the Widow Flanagan; '' and 
 he must give us one of his own." 
 "Oh!" 
 **No excuses; now, James!" 
 
 " AVhere's Duggan?" inquired the poetaster, affectedly; 
 " I told him to be here 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 poor music-master, who set Eeddy's 
 rhymes to music as bad, and danced attendance on him 
 everywhere. 
 
 The music-master fumbled over a hackneyed prelude to 
 show his command of the instrument. 
 
 Miss Eiley whispered to her mamma that it was out of 
 one of her first books of lessons. 
 
 Mrs. Flanagan, with a seductive smirk, added, ''what 
 he was going to give them?" The poet replied, "A little 
 thing of his own — 'Eosalie; or. The 13roken Heart ' — senti- 
 mental, 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 I 
 On pleasure's wiugs, 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. Rosalifl
 
 HAKDY ANDT. 245 
 
 Ab Tuder rocks with envy glow. 
 
 Thy coral hps 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 senti- 
 mental and imaginative school was sufficiently applauded, 
 dancing was recommenced, and Eeddy seated himself beside 
 Mrs. Riley, the incense of whose praise was 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 beatitif ul iday — so 
 expressive of the pains and pleasures of love. Ah ! I was 
 the most romantic creature myself once. Mister Eeddy, 
 though you wouldn't think it noM'; but the cares of the 
 world and a family takes the shine out of us. I remember 
 when the men used to be making hats in my father's 
 establishment — for my father was the most extensive hatter 
 in Dublin — I don't know if you knew my father 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 were making the hats — I don't 
 know whether you ever saw them making hats — " 
 
 Eeddy declared he never did. 
 
 " Well, it's like the witches round the iron pot in ' Mac- 
 beth;' did you 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 to come to the 
 hats. When they're making them, they have hardly any 
 crown to them at all, and they are all with great sprawling 
 wide flaps to them ; well, the moment I clapped my eyes on 
 them, I thought of a Spanish nobleman directly, with hi^ 
 slouched hat and black feathers like a hearse. Yes, I as- 
 sure you, the broad hat always brought to my mind a 
 Spanish noble or an Italian noble (that would do as well, 
 you know), or a robber or a murderer, which is all the 
 same thing." 
 
 Eeddy could not conceive a hat manufactory as a favor- 
 able nursery for romance; but as the lady praised his song, 
 he listened complacently to her hatting.
 
 24:6 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 ( 
 
 ' And that's another beautiful id ay, sir/' continued the 
 lady, " where you make the rooks jealous of each other — 
 that's so beautiful to l)ring in a bit of nature into a meta- 
 physic that way. '' 
 
 "You flatter me, ma'am," said Eeddy; "but if I might 
 epeak of my own work — that is, if a man may ever speak 
 of his own work — '' 
 
 " And why not, sir?" asked Mrs. Eiley, with a bushiess- 
 like air; " who has 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 1 
 will therefore take leave to say, that the idea / am proud- 
 est of, is the f/ark and heavi/ grief of the heart being com- 
 pared to a black stone, and 'its deplh of misery implied by 
 the sea." 
 
 "Thrue for you," said Mrs. Eiley; "and the blue sea— 
 ah! that didn't escape me; that's an elegant touch— the 
 black stone and the blue sea; and black and blue, such a 
 beautiful conthrast!" 
 
 "' I own," said Eeddy, "I attempted, in that, the bold 
 and daring style of expression which Byron has introduced." 
 
 " Oh, he's a ^iie pote certainly, but he's not moral, sir; 
 and I'm af eared to let my daughter read such combustibles.'* 
 
 *'But he's grand," said Eeddy; "for instance— 
 
 " ' She walks in beauty like the night.' 
 
 How fine!" 
 
 " But how wicked!" said Mrs. Eiley. " I don't like that 
 night-walking style of poetry at all, so say no more about 
 it; we'll talk of something else. You admire music, I'm 
 6ure. " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "Charmmgly." 
 
 "Oh, but if you heerd her play the harp, you'd think 
 she wouldn't lave a sthring on it " (this was Mrs. Eiley's 
 favorite bit of praise); " and a beautiful harp it is, one of 
 Egan's double action, all over goold, and cost eighty 
 gumeas; Miss Cheese chuse it for her. Do you know Miss 
 Cheese? she's as plump as a partridge, with a voice like a 
 lark; she sings elegant duets. Do you ever sing duets;"'
 
 HA^'DT ANDY. 247 
 
 •• jVot orxm/' 
 
 ''Ah! if you could hear Pether Dowling sing duets with 
 my daughter! he'd make the hair stand straight on your 
 head \\ath the delight. Oh, he^s a powerful singer! you 
 never heerd the like; he runs up and down as fast as a 
 lamplighter; — and the beautiful turns he gives; oh! I never 
 heerd any one sing a second like Pether. I declare he 
 sings a second to that degree that you'd think it was the 
 first, and never at a loss for a shake; and then off he goes 
 in a run, that you'd think he'd never come back; but he 
 does bring it back into the tune again with as nate a fit as 
 a Limerick glove. Oh! I never heerd a singer like 
 Pether!!!" 
 
 There is no knowing how much more Mrs. Eiley would 
 have said about '•' Pether/' if the end of the dance had not 
 cut her eloquence short by permitting the groups of dancers, 
 as they promenaded, to throw in their desultory discourse 
 right and left, and so break up anything like a consecutive 
 conversation. 
 
 But let ii not be supposed that all Mrs. Flanagan's 
 guests were of the Gubbins and Riley stamj). There were 
 some of the better class of the coimtry people present; in- 
 t-elligence and courtesy in the one sex, and gentleness and 
 natural grace in the other, making a society not to be ridi- 
 culed in the mass, though individual instances of folly and 
 ignorance and purse-proud effrontery were amongst it. 
 
 But to Growling every phase of society afforded gratifi- 
 cation; and while no one had a keener relish for such 
 scenes as the one in which we have Just witnessed him, the 
 learned and the courteous could be met with equal weapons 
 \j the doctor when he liked. 
 
 Quitting the dancing-room, he went into the little draw- 
 ing-room, where a party of a very different stamp was en- 
 faged in conversation. Edward O'Connor and the *' dear 
 inglish captain " as Mrs. Flanagan called him, were deep 
 in an interesting discussion about the relative practices in 
 Ireland and England on the occasions of elections and 
 trials, and most other public events; and O'Connor and two 
 or three listeners — amongst whom was a Mr. Monk, whose 
 daughters, remarkably nice girls, were of the party — were 
 delighted with the feeling tone in which the EngHshman 
 spoke of the poorer classes of Irish, and how often the ex- 
 cesses into which they sometimes fell were viewed through
 
 248 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 an exaggerated or distorted medium, and what was fre. 
 qiiently mere exuberance of spirit jironounced and pun- 
 ished as riot. 
 
 •' I never saw a people over whom those in authority re- 
 quire more good temper/' 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 be forced?" 
 
 " 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 an intelligent Englishman yet, who came to 
 Ireland, who did not find it out. Paddy has a touch of 
 tlie pig in him — he won't be driven; but you may coax 
 him a long way: or if you appeal to his reason — for he 
 happens to have such a thing about him — you may per- 
 suade him into what is right if you take the trouble." 
 
 " By Jove !" said the captain, "it is not easy to argue 
 with Paddy; the rascals are so ready with quip, and equi- 
 voque, and queer answers, that they generally get the best 
 of it in talk, however fallacious may be their argument; 
 and when you think you have Pat in a corner and escape is 
 mevitabie, he's off without your knowing how he shpped 
 through vour fingers." 
 
 When the doctor joined the conversation, Edward, know- 
 ing his powers, gave up the captain into liis hands, and sat 
 down by the side of Miss Monk, who had just entered from 
 the dancing-room, and retired to a chair in the corner. 
 
 She and Edward soon got engaged in a conversation par- 
 ticularly interesting to him. She spoke of having lately 
 Uiet Fanny Dawson, and was praising her in such terms of 
 affectionate admiration, that Edward hung upon every 
 word with delight. I know not if Miss Monk was aware of 
 Edward's devotion in that quarter before, but she could 
 not look upon the bland, though somewhat sad smile which 
 arched his expressive month, and the dilated eye which 
 beamed as her praises were uttered, without being then 
 conscious that Fanny Dawson had made him captive. 
 
 She was pleased, and continued the conversation with 
 that inherent pleasure a woman has in touching a man's 
 heart, even though it bo not on her own account; and it
 
 BAKDT ANDT. 249 
 
 was done with tact and delicacy which only women possess, 
 and which is so refined that the rougher nature of man is 
 insensible ol' its drift and influence, and he is betrayed by a 
 net whose meshes are too fine for his perception. Edwarit 
 O'Connor never dreamed that Miss Monk saw he was in lov(^ 
 with the subject of their discourse. Wbile they were talk* 
 ing, the merry hostess entered; and the last words the cap- 
 tain uttered fell upon her ear, and then follovred a reply 
 from Growling, saying that Irishmen were as hard to catch 
 as quicksilver. *' Ay, and as hard to keep as any other 
 silver," said the widow; "don't believe what these wild 
 Irish fellows tell you of themselves: they are all mad divils 
 alike — you steady Enghshmen are the safe men — and the 
 girls know it. And faith, if you try them," added she, 
 laughing, " I don't know any one more hkely to have luck 
 with them than yourself; for, 'pon my conscience, captain, 
 we all dote on you since you would not shoot 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' a mealy-mouthed miss; sure / may tell the 
 truth; and I wouldn't trust one o' ye," she added, with-a 
 very significant nod of the head at the gentlemen, " except 
 the captam. Yes — I'd trust one more — I'd trust Mister 
 O'Connor; I think he really could be true to a woman." 
 
 The words fell sweetly upon his ear; the expression of 
 trust in his faith at that moment, even from the laughing 
 widow, was pleasing; for his heart was full of the woman 
 he adored, and it was only by long waiting 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 ac- 
 knowledgment, said that after having paid him such a 
 pretty compliment, he couldn''t refuse her to sing a song. 
 Edward never liked to sing in mixed companies, and Avas 
 about making some objection, when the widow interrupted 
 him with one of those Irish " ah, now's," so hard to resist. 
 " Besides, all the noisy pack are in the dancing-room, or, 
 indeed, I wouldn't ask you; and here there's not one won't 
 be charmed vni\x you. Ah, look at Miss Monk, there — I 
 know she's d3'ing to hear you; and see all the ladies hang- 
 ing on your lijjs absolutely. Can you refuse me after tluit, 
 now?"
 
 25 C HANDY ANDY. 
 
 It was true that in the small room where they sat there 
 were only those who were worthy of better things than 
 Edward would have ventured on to the many; and filled 
 with the tender and passionate sentiment his conversation 
 with Miss Monk had awakened, one of those effusions of 
 deep, and earnest, and poetic feeling which love had 
 prompted to his muse rose to his lips, and he began to 
 Bmg. 
 
 All were silent, for the poet singer was a favorite, and 
 all knew with what touching expression he gave his com- 
 positions; but now the mellow tones of his voice seemed to 
 vibrate with a feeling in more than common unison with 
 the words, and his dark earnest eyes beamed with a devo- 
 tion of which she who was the object might be p/oud. 
 
 A LEAF THAT REMINDS OF THEB. 
 
 How sweet is the hour we give, 
 
 V/hen fancy may wauder free. 
 To tiie friends who in memory livel 
 
 For then I rememher thee! 
 Then wing'd, like the dove from the ar]( 
 
 My liearJ, o'er a stormy sea. 
 Brings back to my lonely bark 
 
 A leaf that reminds of theel 
 
 n. 
 
 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 tlie future far. 
 
 Dark tiiougli my course may b«, 
 Tliou art my guiding star! 
 
 My heart still turns to thee. 
 
 III. 
 
 When I see thy friends I sinile, 
 
 I sigh when I hear thy name ; 
 But tiiey can not tell tiie while 
 
 Wlience tlie smile or tiie sadness came! 
 Vainly the world may deem 
 
 The cause of my sighs they know : 
 The breeze that stii-s tlie stream 
 
 Knows not the depth below.
 
 HANDT ANDY. 251 
 
 Before ihe first \rrse of the. song was over, the entrance 
 to the room was filled with eager lic^teners, and, at its con- 
 clusion, a large proportion of the company from the danc- 
 ing-room had crowded round the door, attracted by the 
 rich voice of the singer, and fascinated into silence by the 
 charm of his song, Perhajis after mental qualities, the 
 most valuable gift a man can have is a fine voice; it at 
 once commands attention, and may therefore be ranked 
 in a man's possession as highly as beauty in a woman's. 
 
 In speaking thus of voice, I do not allude to the power 
 of singing, but the mere physical quality of a. fine voice, 
 which in the bare utterance of the simplest Avords is pleas- 
 ing, but, becoming the medium for the interchange of 
 higher thoughts, is irresistible. Superadded to this gift, 
 which Edward possessed, the song he sung had meaning in 
 it which could reach the hearts of all his auditory, though 
 its poetry might be appreciated by but few; its imagery 
 grew upon a stem Avhose root was in every bosom, and the 
 song that j^ossesses this qualit}^, whatever may be its de- 
 fects, contains not only the elements of future fame, but 
 of immediate popularity. Startling was the contrast be- 
 tween the silence the song had produced and the simulta- 
 neous clapping of hands outside the door when it was over; 
 not the j)Oor plaudit of a fashionable assembly, whose 
 "bravo" is an attenuated note of admiration, struggling 
 into a sickly existence and expiring in a sigh — applause of 
 so suspicious a charcter, that no one seems desirous of 
 owning it — a feeble forgery of satisfaction Avhich people 
 think it disgraceful to be caught uttering. The clappmg 
 was not the plaudits of high-bred hands, whose sound is 
 like the fluttermg of small wings, just enough to stir gos- 
 samer — but not the heart. No; such was not the applause 
 which followed Edward's song; he had the outburst of 
 heart-warm and unsophisticated satisfaction unfettered by 
 clLJll'mg convention. Most of his hearers did not know 
 that 't was disgraceful to admit being too well pleased, 
 and the poor innocents really opened their mouths and 
 clapped their hands. Oh, fy! tell it not in Grosvenor 
 Square. 
 
 And now James Eeddy contrived to be asked to sing; 
 the coxcomb, not content with his luck in being listened to 
 before, panted for such another burst of applause as 
 greeted Edward, whose song he had notion was any better
 
 ?52 HANDY AISTDT. 
 
 than his own; the puppy fancied his rubbish of the '^' black 
 stone under the blue sea " partook of a grander character 
 of composition, and that while Edward's " breeze " but 
 '•'stirred the stream," he had fathomed the ocean. But a 
 " heavy blow and great discouragement " was in store for 
 Master James, for as he commenced a love ditty which he 
 called by the fascinating title of " The Rose of Silence," 
 and verily believed would have enraptured every woman 
 in the room, a powerful voice, richly flavored with the 
 brogue, shouted forth outside the door, " Ma'am, if you 
 plazc, supper's sarvecl." The effect was magical; a rush 
 Avas made to supper by the crowd in the door-way, and 
 every gentleman in the little drawing-room offered his arm 
 to a IsSy, and led her off without the smallest regard to 
 Reddy's singing. 
 
 His look was worth anything as he saw himself thus un- 
 ceremoniously deserted and likely soon to be left in sole 
 possession of the room; the old doctor was enchanted with 
 his vexation; and when James ceased to sing, as the last 
 couple were going, the doctor interposed his request that 
 the song should be finished. 
 
 " Don't stop, my dear fellow," said the doctor; " that's 
 the best song I have heard a long time, and you must in- 
 dulge me by finishing it — 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 want of taste; but never mind that: one iudi- 
 cious listener is worth a crowd of 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 he knew was very fond of a good supjjer, sing- 
 ing away for the bare life, with only one person for au- 
 dience, and that one humbugging him. The scene waa 
 rich; the gravity with which the doctor carried on the quia 
 was admirable, and the gullibility of the coxcomb who was 
 held captive by 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 liis dupe, who still continued sing- 
 ing, while the laughter of the supper-room and the invit- 
 ing clatter of 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.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 25^ 
 
 '^ there is a singular beauty of thought and felicity of ex- 
 pression in its numbers, leaving the mind uusatistied with 
 but one hearing; once more, if you please," 
 
 Poor Eeddy repeated the last verse. 
 
 *' Very charming, indeed!" said the doctor. i 
 
 " You really like it?" said Eeddy. 
 
 *' Like?" said the doctor — " sir, like is a faint expres- 
 sion of what I think of that song. Moore had better look 
 to his laurels, sir!" 
 
 "Oh, doctor!" 
 
 " Ah, you know yourself," said Growhng. 
 
 " Then that last, doctor — ?" said Eeddy, inquiringly. 
 
 ''Is your most successful achievement, sir; there is a 
 mysterious shatlowing 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 but ordinary paving, while that ' Eose of Silence ' 
 of yours might strew the path to Parnassus. " 
 
 " And is it not strange, doctor," said Eeddy, in a re- 
 proachful tone, "that them people should be insensible to 
 that song, and leave the room while I was singing it?" 
 
 "Too good for them, sir — above their comprehension." 
 
 ''Besides, so rude!" said Eeddy. 
 
 "Oh, my dear friend," said" the doctor, "when you 
 know more of the world, youll find out that an appeal from 
 the lower house to the upper," and he changed his hand 
 from the region of his waistcoat to his head as he spoke, 
 "is most influential." 
 
 " True, doctor," said Eeddy, with a smile; " and sup- 
 pose we go to supper now." 
 
 "Wait a moment," said Growling, holding his button. 
 " Did you ever try your 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 to supper?" 
 
 "Ha!" said the doctor, "your own House of Commons 
 is sending up an appeal — eh?" 
 
 " Decidedly, doctor." 
 
 "Then you see, my dear friend, you can't wonder at 
 those poor inferior beings hurrying oft to indulge their gross 
 appetites, when a man of genius like you is not insensibie
 
 :-i54 HAKDY ANDY. 
 
 to the Bame call. Never wonder again at people leaving 
 your song for supper, Master James/'' said the doctor, rest- 
 ing his arm on Keddy, and sauntering from the room. 
 " Never wonder again at the triumph of supper over song, 
 for the Swan of Avon himself would have no chance 
 against roast ducks." 
 
 Reddy smacked his lips at the word ducks, and the sa- 
 vory odor of the supper-room which they approached 
 heightened his anticipation of an onslaught on one of the 
 aforesaid tempting birds; but, ah! when he entered the 
 room, skeletons of ducks there were, but nothing more. 
 The work of demolition had been in able hands, and the 
 doctor's lachrymose exclamation of ''the devil a duck!" 
 found a hollow echo under Eeddy's waistcoat, liound the 
 room that deluded minstrel went, seeking what he might 
 devour, but his voyage of discovery for any hot fowl was 
 profitless; and Growling, in silent delight, witnessed his 
 disappointment. 
 
 " 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, for the last is all I could wish ;" and so, 
 indeed it was, for it enabled him to laugh at the poetaster, 
 and cheat him out of his supper. 
 
 " Ho, ho!" said Murtough Murphy, who ajjproached the 
 door; "you have found out the punch is good, eh? Faith 
 it is tiiat same, and I'll take another glass of it with you 
 before I go, for the night is cold." 
 
 " Are you going so soon?" asked Growling, as he clinked 
 his ^lass against the attorney's. 
 
 "Whisht !" said Murphy, " not a word — Fm slipping away 
 after Dick the Divil; we have a tiitie of work in hand quite 
 in his line, and it is time to set about it. Good-bye, you'll 
 bear more of it to-morrow — snug's the word." 
 
 Murphy stole away, for the open departure of so meri-y 
 a blade would not have been permitted , and in the hall he 
 found iJick mounting a large top-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 and looked out. 
 
 "No matter, I have got a dark lantern," said Dick,
 
 HANDT ANDY. 255 
 
 '* which we can use when required ; make haste, the gig is 
 round the comer, and. the httle black mare will roll us over 
 in no time. " 
 
 They left the house quietly, as he spoke, and started on 
 a bit of mischief wliich demands a separate chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The night was pitch dark, and on rounding the adjacent 
 corner no vehicle could be seen; but a peculiar whistle 
 from Dick was answered by the sound of approaching 
 wheels and the rapid footfalls of a horse, mingled with the 
 light rattle of a smart gig. On the vehicle coming up, 
 Dick took his little mare, that was blacker than the night, 
 by the head, the apron of the gig was thrown down, and 
 out jumped a smart servant-boy. 
 
 " You have the horse ready, too, Billy?'' 
 
 " Yis, sir,^^ said Billy, touching his hat. 
 
 " Then follow, and keep up with me, remember. *' 
 
 " Yis, sir.^' 
 
 " Come to her head, here,'' and he patted the little 
 mare's neck as he spoke with a caressing " whoa," which 
 was answered by a low neigh of satisfaction, while the im 
 patient pawing of her fore-foot showed the animal's desire 
 to start. *' What an impatient little devil she is," said 
 Dick, as he mounted the gig; " I'll get in first. Murphy, 
 as I'm going to drive. Now up with you — hook on the 
 apron — that's it — are you all right!" 
 
 " Quite," said Murphy. 
 
 '' Then you be into your saddle and after us, Billy," 
 said Dick; " and now let her go." 
 
 Billy gave the little black mare her head, and away she 
 went, at a slapping pace, the fire from the road answering 
 the rapid strokes of her nimble feet. The servant then 
 mounted a horse which was tied to a neighboring palisade, 
 and had to gallop for it to come up with his master, who 
 was driving with a swiftness almost fearful, considering 
 the darkness of the night and the narrowness of the road 
 he had to traverse, for he was making the best of his course 
 by cross-ways to an adjacent roadside inn, where some non- 
 resident electors were expected to arrive that night by a 
 coach from Dublin ; for the younty town had every nook
 
 556 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 and cranny occupied, and this inn was the nearest point 
 where they could get any accommodation. 
 
 Now don't suppose that they were electors whom Murphy 
 and Dick in their zeal for their party were going over to 
 greet with hearty welcomes and bring up to the poll the 
 next day. By no means. They were the friends of the 
 opposite party, and it was with the design of retarding their 
 movements that this night's excursion was undertaken. 
 These electors were a batch of plain citizens from Dublin, 
 whom the Scatterbrain interest had induced to leave the 
 peace and quiet of the city to tempt the wilds of the coun- 
 try at that wildest of times — during a contested election; 
 and a night coach was freighted inside and out with the 
 worthy cits, whose aggregate voices would be of immense 
 importance the next day; for the contest was close, the 
 county nearly polled out, and but two days more for the 
 struggle. Now, to intercept these plain unsuspecting men 
 was the object of Murphy, whose well-supplied mformation 
 had discovered to him this plan of the enemy, which he set 
 about countermining. As they rattled over the rough by- 
 roads, many a laugh did the merry attorney and the un- 
 tameable Dick the Devil exchange, as the probable success 
 of their scheme was canvassed, and fresh expedients devised 
 to meet the possible impediments which might interrupt 
 them. As they topped a hill. Murphy pointed out to his 
 companion a moving light in the plain beneath. 
 
 " That's the coach, Dick — there are the lamps, we're 
 just in time — spin down the hill, my boy — let me get in 
 as they're at supper, and faith they'll want it, after com- 
 ing off a coach such a night as this, to say nothing of some 
 of them being aldermen in expectancy perhaps, and of 
 course obliged to play trencher-men as often as they can, 
 as a reqmsite rehearsal for the parts they must hereafter 
 fill." 
 
 In fifteen minutes more Dick pulled up before a small 
 cabin within a quarter of a mile of the inn, and the mount 
 ed servant tapped at the door, which was immediately 
 opened, and a peasant, advancing to the gig, returned the 
 civil salutation with which Dick greeted his approach. 
 
 " I wanted to be sure you were ready, Barny. " 
 
 " Oh, do you think I'd fail you, Misther Dick, youi" 
 konor?" 
 
 ** I thought you might be asleep, Baxny."
 
 HANDY ANDY. 257 
 
 *' Not when you bid me wake, sir; and there's a nice fire 
 ready for you, and as line a dhrop o' potteen as ever tickled 
 your tongue, biy." 
 
 " You're the lad, Barny! good fellow — I'll be back with 
 you by and by;'' and off whipped Dick again. 
 
 After going about a quarter of a mile further, he pulled 
 up, alighted with Murphy from the gig, unharnessed the 
 little black mare, and then overturned the gig into the 
 ditch. 
 
 " That's as natural as hfe," said Dick. 
 
 *' What an escape of my neck I've had!" said Murphy. 
 
 " Are you much hurt?" said Dick. 
 
 " A trifle lame only," said Murphy, laughing and limp- 
 ing. 
 
 " There was a great boccagh * lost in you. Murphy. 
 Wait; let me rub a handful of mud on your face — there — 
 you have a very upset look, 'pon my soul," said Dick, a? 
 he flashed the light of his lantern on him for a moment, 
 and laughed at Murphy scooping the mud out of his eye, 
 where Dick had purposely planted it. 
 
 " Devil take you, " said Murtough; " that's too natural." 
 
 " There's nothing like looking your part," said Dick. 
 
 " Well, I may as well complete my attire," said Mur- 
 tough, so he lay down in the road and took a roll in the 
 mud; " that will do," said he; " and now, Dick, go back 
 to Barny and the moimtain dew, while I storm the camp 
 of the PhiUstines. I think in a couple of hours you may 
 ne on the look-out for me; I'll signal you from the window, 
 so now good -by;" and Murphy, leading the mare, proceed- 
 ed to the inn, while Dick, with a parting " Luck to you, 
 my boy," turned back to the cottage of Barny. 
 
 The coach had set down six inside and ten outside pas- 
 sengers (all voters) about ten minutes before Murphy 
 marched up to the inn door, leading the black mare, and 
 calling " ostler " most lustily. His call being answered 
 for '' the beast," " the man " next demanded attention: 
 And the landlord wondered all the wonders he could cram 
 into a short speech, at seeing Mister Murphy, sure, at such 
 a time; and the sonsy landlady, too, was all lamentations 
 for his illigant coat and his poor eye, sure, all ruined with 
 the mud: and what was it at all? an upsets was it? ok. 
 
 * Lame beggar
 
 ^SS itAKDY ANDY. 
 
 wirra! and wasn't it lucky he wusii't killed, and they with- 
 out a spare bed to lay liim out dacent if he was — sure, 
 wouldn't it be horrid for his body to be only on stliraw in 
 the burn, instead of the best feather-bed in the house; and, 
 indeed, he\l be welcome to it, only the gintlemen from 
 town had them all engaged. 
 
 '* Well, dead or alive, I must stay here to-night, Mrs. 
 Kelly, at all events/' 
 
 '' And what will you do for a bed?" 
 
 " A shake down in the parlor, or a stretdi on a sofa, 
 will do; my gig is stuck fast in a ditch — my mare tired^- 
 ten miles from home — cold night, and my knee hurt.'* 
 Murphy limj^ed as he spoke. 
 
 " Oh! your poor .knee," said Mrs. Kelly; '' I'll put a 
 dhrop o' whisky and brown paper on it, sure — " 
 
 "And what gentlemen are these, Mrs. Kelly, who have 
 so filled your house?" 
 
 ' ' Gintlemen that came by the coach a while agoue, and 
 supping in the parlor now, sure." 
 
 Would you give my compliments, and ask would they 
 allow me, under the present peculiar circumstances, to join 
 them? and in the meantime, send somebody down the road 
 to take the cushions out of my gig; for there is no use in 
 attempting to get the gig out till morning." 
 
 " Sartinly, Misther Murphy, we'll send for the cushions, 
 but as for the gentlemen, they are all on the other side." 
 
 '* What other side?" 
 
 *' The Honorable 's voters, sure." 
 
 " Pooh! is that all?" said Murphy—** I don't mind 
 that, I've no objection on that account; besides, thei/ need 
 not know who / am," and he gave the landlord a knowing 
 wink, to which the landlord as knowingly returned another. 
 
 The message to the gentlemen was delivered, and Mur- 
 phy was immediately requested to join their partj ; thi? 
 was all he wajited, and he played off his powers of diversior 
 on the innocent citizens so successfully, that before suppei 
 was half over they thought themselves in luck to have fallen 
 in with such a chance acquaintance. Murphy fired awaj 
 jokes, repartees, anecdotes, and country gossip, to theii 
 delight; and when the eatables were disposed of, he started 
 them on the punch-drinking tack afterward so cleverly, 
 that he hoped to see three parts of them tipsy before they 
 retii-ed to rest.
 
 '* I)o you feel your knee "better now, sir?" asked one of 
 (he party, of Murphy, 
 
 ' Considerably, tlv.ink you; whisky punch, sir, is about 
 the best cure for braises or dislocations a man can take/' 
 
 "I doubt that, sir, " said a little matter-of-fact man, 
 wno had now i'jterposed his reasonable doubts for the 
 twentieth time during Murphy's various extravagant 
 declarations, and the interruption only made Murphy 
 romance the more. 
 
 " Voa speak of your fiery DuMm stuff, sir; but our 
 country whisky is as mild as milk, and far more whole- 
 some; then, sir, our fine air alone would cure half the com- 
 plaints without a grain of physic. " 
 
 " I doubt that, sir!'' said the little man. 
 
 *' I assure you, sii', a friend of my own from town came 
 down here last spring on crutches, and from merely follow- 
 ing a light whisky diet and sleeping with his window open, 
 he was able to dance at the race ball in a fortnight; as for 
 this knee of mine, it's a trifle, though it was a bad upset 
 too." 
 
 " How did it happen, sir? Was it your horse — or vour 
 harness — or your gig — or — " 
 
 *' None o' them, sir; it was a Bansliee." 
 
 " A Banshee!" said the little man; " what's that?" 
 
 ** A peculiar sort of supernatural creature that is com- 
 mon here, sir. She was squatted down on one side of the 
 road, and my mare shied at her, and being a spirited little 
 thins:, she attempted to jump the ditch, and missed it in 
 tliadark." 
 
 " Jump a ditch, with a gig after her, sir?" said the lit- 
 tle man. 
 
 " Oh, common enough to do that here, sir; she'd have 
 dona it easy in the daylight, but she could not measure her 
 distance in the dark, and bang she went into the ditch: 
 but it's a trifle after all. I am generally run over four or 
 five times a year. " 
 
 *' And you alive to tell it!" said the little man, incredu- 
 lously. 
 
 " It's hard to kill us here, sir, we are used to accidents." 
 
 *' Weil, the worst accident I ever heard of," said one of 
 tlie citizens, " happened to a friend of mine, who went to 
 visit a friend of his on a Sunday, and all the family hap- 
 pened to be at church, so on driving into the yard there
 
 
 260 HANDY AKDT. 
 
 was no one to take liis liorse, therefore he undertook the 
 office of hostler himself; out being unused to the duty, he 
 most incautiously took off tlie horse's bridle before unyok- 
 nig him from his gig, and the animal, making a furious 
 plunge forward — my friend being before him at the time — 
 the shaft of the gig was driven through his body, and into 
 the coach-house gate behind him, and stuck so fast that 
 the horse could not drag it out after; and in this dreadful 
 situation they remained until the family returned from 
 church, and saw the awful occurrence. A servant was dis- 
 patched for a doctor, and the shaft was disengaged, and 
 drawn out of the man's body— just at the pit of the 
 stomach: he was laid on a bed, and every one thought of 
 course he must die at once, but he didn't; and the doctoi 
 came next day, and he wasn't dead— did what he could for 
 him — and, to make a long story short, sir, the man recov- 
 ered." 
 
 Pooh! pooh!" said the diminutive doubter. 
 It's true," said the narrator. 
 
 I make no doubt of it, sir," said Murphy; " I know a 
 more extraordinary case of recovery myself." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said the cit; ** I have not 
 finished my story yet, for the most extraordinary part of 
 the story remains to be told; my friend, sir, was a very 
 sicklv man before the accident happened— a very sickly 
 man,*^ and after that accident he became a hale, healthy 
 man. What do you think of that, sir?" 
 
 " It does not surprise me in the least, sir," said Mur- 
 phy; " I can account for it readily." 
 
 ^' Well, sir, I never heard it accounted for, though I 
 know it to be true; I should like to hear how you account 
 for it?" 
 
 " Very simple, sir," said Murphy; " don't you perceive 
 the man discovered a mine of health by a shaft being sunk 
 in the pit of his stomach?" 
 
 Murphy's punning solution of the cause of cure was 
 merrily received by the company, whose critical taste was 
 not of that affected nature which despises /c?^ de mots, and 
 will not be satisfied under Sijeu d' esprit; the little doubt- 
 ing man alone refused to be pleased. 
 
 " I doubt the value of a pun always, sir. Dr. Johnsor: 
 said, sir — " 
 
 *'I know/^ said Murphy, "that the man who would
 
 HANDY ANDT. 261 
 
 make a pun would pick a pocket; that's old^, sir, but la 
 dearly remembered by all those who can not make puns 
 themselves. •" 
 
 " Exactly," said one of the party they called Wiggins. 
 " It is the old story of the fox and the grapes. Did you 
 ever hear, sir, the story of the fox and the grapes? The 
 fox one day was — " 
 
 " Yes, yes,'' said Murphy, who, fond of absurdity as he 
 was, could not stand the fox and the grapes by way of 
 something new. 
 
 " The^pre sour, said the fox." 
 
 *' Yes," said Murphy, '' a capital story." 
 
 " Oh, them fables is so good!" said Wiggins. 
 
 *' All nonsense!" said the diminutive contradictor. 
 
 *' Nonsense, nothing but nonsense; the ridiculous stuff 
 of birds and beasts speaking! As if any one could believe 
 such stuff. " 
 
 " I do — firmly — for one," said Murphy. 
 
 " You do?" said the little man. 
 
 " I do — and do you know why?" 
 
 *' I can not indeed conceive," said the little man, with a 
 bitter grin. 
 
 " It IS, sir, because I myself know a case that occurred 
 in this very country of a similar nature." 
 
 " Do you want to make me believe you knew a fox that 
 spoke, sir?" said the manikin, almost rismg into anger. 
 
 " Many, sir," said Murphv, " many." 
 
 *' W^ell! after that!" said the little man. 
 
 *' But the case I immediately allude to is not of a fox, 
 but a cat," said Murphy. 
 
 *' A cat? Oh, yes — to be sure — a cat speak, Indeed!" 
 said the little gentleman. 
 
 " It is a fact, sir," said Murphy; *' and if the company 
 would not object to my relating the story, I will state the 
 particulars." 
 
 The proposal was received with acclamation; and Mur- 
 phy, in great enjoyment of the little man's annoyance, 
 cleared his throat, and made all the preparatory demon- 
 strations of a regular raconteur; but, before he began, he 
 recommended the gentlemen to mix fresh tumblers all 
 round that they might have nothing to do but listen and 
 Urink silently." "For of ail things in the world/' sai4
 
 262 HANDT ANDV. 
 
 Murtough, " I hate a song or a story to be interrupted by 
 the rattle of spoons." 
 
 They obeyed; and while they are mixing their punch, 
 we will just turn over a fresh page, and devote a new chap- 
 ter to the following 
 
 Marvelous Legend. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 MURTOUGH MURPHY^S STORY ; 
 
 BEING 
 TE MARVELOUS LEGEND OF TOM CONNOR^S CAT. 
 
 " There was a man in these parts, sir, you must know, 
 called Tom Connor, and he had a cat that was equal to 
 any dozen of rat-traps, and he was proud of the baste, and 
 with rayson ; for she was worth her weight in goold to him 
 in saving his sacks of meal from the thievery of the rats 
 and mice; for Tom Avas an extensive dealer in corn and 
 influenced the rise and fall of that article in the market, 
 to the extent of a full dozen of sacks at a time, which he 
 either kept or sold, as the spirit of fi*ee trade or monopoly 
 came over him. Indeed, at one time, Tom, had serious 
 thoughts of applying to the government for a military force 
 to protect his granary when there was a threatened famine 
 in the country. " 
 
 "Pooh! pooh! sir," said the matter-of-fact little man : 
 *' as if a dozen sacks could be of the smallest consequence 
 in a whole county — pooh! pooh!" 
 
 '' Well, sir," said Murphy, '*' I can't help if you don't 
 believe; but it's truth what I am telling you, and pray don't 
 interrupt me, though you may not believe ; by the time the 
 story's done you'll have heard more wonderful things than 
 that — and besides, remember you're a stranger in these 
 parts, and have no notion of the extraordinary things, 
 physical, metaphysical, and magical, which constitute the 
 idiosyncrasy of rural destiny." 
 
 The little man did not know the meaning of Murphy's 
 last sentence — nor Murphy either; but, having stopped the 
 little man's throat with big words, he proceeded:
 
 HANDY ANDY. 2G3 
 
 " This cat, sir, you must know, was a great pet, and 
 was so up to everything, that Tom swore she was a 'most 
 like a Christian, only she couldn't speak, and had so sensi- 
 ble a look in her eyes, that he was sartin sure the cat knew 
 every word that was said to her. Well, she used to sit by 
 him at breakfast every morning, and the eloquent cock 
 of her tail, as she used to rub against his leg, said, ' Give 
 me some milk, Tom Connor,' as plain as print, and the 
 
 f)lenitude of her purr afterward spoke a gratitude beyond 
 anguage. Well, one morning, Tom was going to the 
 neighboring town to market, and he hatl promised the 
 wife to bring home shoes to the child re' out o' the price of 
 the corn; and sure enough, before she sat down to break- 
 fast, there was Tom taking the measure of the children's 
 feet, by cutting notches on a bit of stick; and the wife 
 gave him so many cautions a])Out getting a ' nate fit ' for 
 ' Billy's jjurty feet,' that Tom, iii his anxiety to nick the 
 closest possible measure, cut olf the cliild's toe. That dis- 
 turbed the harmony of the party, and Tom was obliged to 
 breakfast alone, while the mother was endeavoring to cure 
 Billy; in short, trying to make a heal of his ^o^-. Well, 
 sir, all the time Tom was takhig measure for the shoes, 
 the cat was observing him with that luminous peculiarity 
 of eye for which her tribe is remarkable; and wlien Tom 
 sat down to breakfast the cat rubbed up against him more 
 vigorously than usual; but 'i'om, being bewildered between 
 his expected gain in corn and the positive loss of his child's 
 toe, kept never minding her, until the cat, with a sort of 
 caterwauling growl, gave Tom a dab of her claws, that 
 went clean through his leathers, and a little further. 
 * Wow I' says Tom, with a jump, clajjping his hand on the 
 part, and rubbing it, ' by this and that, you drew the blood 
 out o' me,' says Tom; ' you wicked divil — tish! — go along I' 
 says he, making a kick at her. With that the cat gave a 
 reproachful look at him, and her eyes glared just like a 
 pair of mail-coach lamps in a fog. With that, sir, the 
 cat, with a mysterious ' mi-oiv,' fixed a most penetrating 
 glance on Tom, and distinctly uttered his name. 
 
 " Tom felt every hair on his head as stiff as a pump- 
 handle; and scarcely crediting his ears, he retui-ned a 
 searching look at the cat, who very quietly proceeded in a 
 sort of nasal twang: 
 
 *' ' Tom Connor,' sajs she..
 
 264 HAXDY AXDY. 
 
 <( < 
 
 The Lord be good to me I' says Tom, ' if it isn't 
 epakin^ she is!" 
 
 " ' Tom Connor/ says she again. 
 
 '* ' Yes, ma'am/ says Tom. 
 
 " * Come here/ says she; ' whisper — I went to talk to 
 yon, Tom/ says she, ' the laste taste in private/ says she 
 — rising on her hams, and beckoning him with her paw 
 out o' the door, with a wink and a toss o" the head aiqual 
 to a milliner. 
 
 " Well, as you may suppose, Tom didn't know whether 
 he was on his head or his heels, but he followed the cat, 
 and ofE she went and squatted herself under the edge of a 
 little paddock at the back of Tom's house; and as he came 
 round the corner, she held up her paw again, and laid it 
 on her mouth, as much as to say, ' Be cautious, Tom.' 
 Well, divil a word T^om could say at all, with the fright, 
 so up he goes to the cat, and says she: 
 
 " ' Tom,' says she, ' I have a great respect for you, and 
 there's something I must tell you, because you're losing 
 character with your neighbors,' says she, ' by your goin's 
 on,' says she, ' and it's out o' the respect that I have for 
 you, that I must tell you,' says she. 
 
 " ' Thank you, ma'am,' says Tom. 
 
 *' ' You're goin' off to the town,' says she, ' to buy shoes 
 for the childre',' says she, ' and never thought o' gettin' 
 me a pair. ' 
 
 " ' You!' says Tom. 
 
 '* ' Yis, me, Tom Connor,' says she; * and the neigh- 
 bors wondhers that a respectable man like you allows your 
 cat to go about the counthry barefutted,' says she. 
 
 *' ' Is it a cat to ware shoes?' says Tom. 
 
 ** ' Why not?' says she; ' doesn't horses ware shoes'* — 
 and I have a prettier foot than a horse, I hope, ' says she, 
 with a toss of her head. 
 
 " ' Faix, she spakes like a woman; so proud of her feet,' 
 says Tom to himself, astonished, as you may suppose, but 
 pretending never to think it remarkable all the time; and 
 so he went on discoursin' ; and says he, ' It's thrue for 
 you, ma'am,' says he, ' that horses wares shoes — but that 
 stands to rayson, ma'am, you see — seeing the hardship 
 their feet has to go through on the hard roads.' 
 
 *' ' And how do you know what hardship my feet has to 
 go through?' says the eat, mighty sharp.
 
 HANDY AJS'DY. 266 
 
 *' ' But, ma'am/ says Tom, ' I don't well see how you 
 could fasten a shoe on you/ says he. 
 
 ' ' ' Lave that to me, ' says the cat. 
 
 " ' Did any one ever stick walnut shells on you, pussy?' 
 Bays Tom, with a grin. 
 
 "' Don't be disrespectful, Tom Connor,' says the cat, 
 with a frown. 
 
 '' ' I ax your pard'n, ma'am,' says he, ' but as for the 
 horses you wor spakin' about wearin' shoes, you know their 
 shoes is fastened on with nails, and how would your shoes 
 be fastened on?' 
 
 " ' Ah, you stu23id thief!' says she, * haven't I illigant 
 nails o' my owti?' and with tht^t she gave him a dab of her 
 claw, that made him roar. 
 
 " ' Ow! murdherl' says he. 
 
 " ' Now, no more of your palaver, Misther Connor,' says 
 the cat; * just be off and get me the shoes.' 
 
 '* ' Tare an ouns." says Tom, ' what'll become o' me if 
 I'm to get shoes for my cats?' says he, ' for you increase 
 your family four times a year, and you have six or seven 
 every time,' says he; ' and then you must all have two pair 
 apiece — wirra! wirra! — I'll be ruined in shoe-leather,' says 
 Tom. 
 
 " ' No moreo' your stuff,' says the cat: ' don't be stand- 
 in' here undher the hedge tulkin', or we'll lose our karac- 
 thers — for I've remarked your wife is jealous, Tom.' 
 
 " ' Pon my sowl, that's thrue,' says Tom, with a smirk. 
 
 " ' More fool she,' says the cat, ' for, 'pon my conscience, 
 Tom, you're as ugly as if you wor bespoke.' 
 
 *' Off ran the cat with these words, leaving Tom, in 
 amazement. He said nothing to the family, for fear of 
 fright'ning them, and off he went to the (own, as he pre- 
 tended — for he saw the cat watching him through a hole in 
 the hedge; but when he came to a turn at the end of the 
 road, the dickings a mind he minded the market, good or 
 bad, but went off to Squire Botherum's, the magisthrit, to 
 sware examinations agen the cat." 
 
 " Pooh! pooh! — nonsense!" broke in the little man, who 
 had listened thus far to Murtough with an expression of 
 mingled wonder and contempt, while the rest of the jiarty 
 willingly gave up the reins to nonsense, and enjoyed Mur- 
 tough' s Legend and their companion's more absurd com- 
 mon sense.
 
 266 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " Don 't interrupt him, (Toggius," said Mister AViggiiis. 
 " How can you listen to such nonsense?'^ returned (hog- 
 gins. "Swear examinations against a cat, indeed! pooh! 
 pooh!" 
 
 "My dear sir," said Murtough, " remember this is a 
 fair story, and that the country all around liere is full of 
 enchantment. As I was telling you, Tom went off to swear 
 examinations." 
 
 " Ay, ay!'' shouted all but Goggins; " go on with the 
 story. ' ' 
 
 And when Tom was asked to relate the events of the 
 morning, which brought him before Squire Botherum, his 
 brain was so bewildered between his corn, and his cat, and 
 his child's toe, that he made a very confused account of it. 
 " ' Begin your story from the beginning,' said the mag- 
 istrate to Tom. 
 
 " * Well, your honor,' says Tom, ' I was goin' to mar- 
 ket this mornhi', to sell the child's corn — I beg your par- 
 d'n — my own toes, I mane, sir.' 
 " ' Sell your toes!' said the Squire. 
 " ' No, sir, takin' the cat to market, I mane — ' 
 " ' Take a cat to market!' said the Squire. ' You're 
 drunk, man. ' 
 
 " ' No, your honor, only confused a little; for when the 
 toes began to spake to me — the cat, I mane — I was both- 
 ered clane — ' 
 
 "'The cat sjjeak to you!' said the Squire. 'Phew! 
 worse than before — you're drunk, Tom.' 
 
 " ' No, your honor; it's on the strength of the cat I 
 come to spake to you — ' 
 
 " ' I think it's on the strength of a pint of whisky, 
 rem—' 
 
 " * By the vartue o' my oath, your honor, it's nothin' 
 but the cat.' And so Tom then told him all about the 
 affair, and the Squire was regularly astonished. Just then 
 the bishop of the diocese and the priest of the parish hap- 
 pened to call in, and heard the story; and the bishop and 
 the priest had a tough argument for two hours on the sub- 
 ject; the former swearing she must be a witch; but the 
 priest denying that, and maintaining she was only enchant- 
 Hd ; and that part of the argument was afterward referred 
 to the primate, and subsequently to the conclave at Borne;
 
 I 
 
 HANDY A^^DT. 367 
 
 but the Pope clecliTied interfering about cats, saying he had 
 quite enough to do minding his own bulls. 
 
 ^' ' In tile meantime, what are we to do with the cat?^ 
 says Botherum. 
 
 " * Burn her/ says the bishop, ' she's a witch/ 
 
 " * Only enclianted/ said the priest — * and the ecclesias- 
 tical court maintains that — ' 
 
 " * Bother the ecclesiastical court!' said the magistrate; 
 I can only proceed on the statutes:' and with that he 
 pulled down all the law-books in his libraiy, and hunted 
 the laws from Queen Elizabeth down, and he found that 
 they made laws against everything in Ireland, except a cat. 
 The devil a thing escaped them but a.cat, which did not 
 come within the meaning of any act of j^arliament — the 
 cats only had escaped. 
 
 *' ' There's the alien act, to be sure,' said the magis- 
 trate, ' and perhaps she's a French sj^y, in disguise. ' 
 
 " ' She spakes like a French spy, sure enough,' says 
 Tom; ' and she was raissin', I remember, all last Sjiy- 
 Wednesday.' 
 
 " ' That's suspicious,' says the Squire — ' but conviction 
 might be difficult; and I have a fresh idea,' says Botherum. 
 
 " 'Faith, it won't keep fresh long, this hot weather,^ 
 says Tom; ' so your honor had better make use of it at 
 wanst. ' 
 
 " ' Right,' says Botherum — we'll make her subject to 
 the game laws; we'll hunt her,' says he. 
 
 " ' Ow! — elegant!' says Tom — 'we'll have a brave run 
 out of her. ' 
 
 " ' Meet me at the cross-roads,' says the Squire, ' in the 
 morning, and I'll have the hounds ready.' 
 
 ' ' Well, off Tom went home ; and he was racking his 
 brain what excuse he could make to the cat for not bring- 
 ing the shoes- and at last he liit one off, just as he saw hei 
 cantering up to him, half a mile before he got home. 
 
 " ' Where's the shoes, Tom?' says she. 
 
 " ' I have not got them to-day, ma'am,' says he. 
 
 " ' Is that the way you keep your promise, Tom?' says 
 she — ' I'll tell you what it is, Tom — I'll tare the eyes out 
 o' the childre if you don't get me shoes.' 
 
 " ' Whisht! W'hisht!' says Tom, frightened out of his life 
 for his children's eyes. ' Don't be in a passion, pussy. 
 The shoemaker said he had not a shoe in his shop, nor a
 
 a68 HAXDY ANDT. 
 
 last that would make one to fit you; and he says, I must 
 
 .m to take 3'our measure. ' 
 says the cat, looking savage. 
 
 brino; you into the town for him to take your measure.' 
 ' And when am I to go?' says the cat, looking savi 
 
 To-morrow/ says Tom. 
 '* * It's well you said that, Tom/ said the cat, ' or the 
 devil an eye I'd leave in your family this night ' — and off 
 she hopped. 
 
 *' Tom thrimbled at the wicked look she gave. 
 " ' Remember!' says she, over the hedge, with a bitter 
 ^ caterwaul. 
 
 *' * Never fear,^ says Tom. 
 
 ** Well, sure enough, the next mornin' there was the cat 
 at cock-crow, licking hersCTf as nate as a new pin, to go 
 into the town, and out came Tom with a bag undher his 
 arm, and the cat afther him. 
 
 " ' Now git into this, and I'll carry you into the town,' 
 Bays Tom, opening the bag. 
 
 *' ' Sure I can walk with you,' says the cat. 
 
 *' * Oh, that wouldn't do,' says Tom; ' the people in the 
 town is curious and slandherous people, and sure it would 
 rise ugly remarks if I was seen with a cat afther me — a 
 dog is a man's companion by nature, but cats does not 
 stand to rayson. ' 
 
 " Well, the cat, seeing there was no use in argument, 
 got into the bag, and oif Tom set to the cross-roads with 
 the bag over his shoulder, and he came u]?, quite innocent- 
 liJce, to the corner, where the Squire, and his huntsman, 
 and the hounds, and a pack o' jaeople were waitin'. Out 
 came the Squire on a sudden, just as if it was all by acci- 
 dent. 
 
 " ' God save you, Tom,' says he. 
 
 " ' God save you kindly, sir,' says Tom. 
 
 " ' What's that bag you have at your back?' says the 
 Squire. 
 
 " ' Oh, nothin' at all, sir,' says Tom — makin' a face all 
 the time, as much as to say, I have her safe. 
 
 " * Oh, there's something in that bag, I think,' says the 
 Squire; ' and you must let me see it.' 
 
 " ' If you bethray me, Tom Connor,' says the cat in a 
 low voice, ' by this and that I'll never spake to you again!' 
 
 " ' 'Pon my honor, sir,' said Tom, with a wink and a 
 twitch of his thumb toward the bag, ' I haven't anything 
 in it.'
 
 HANDY ANDY. 269 
 
 *' ' I have been missing my praties of late/ says the 
 squire; ' and I'd just like to examine that bag/ says he. 
 
 '' ' Is it doubting my charackther you'd be, sir?' says 
 Tom, pretending to be in a passion. 
 
 " ' Tom, your sowl!' says the voice in the sack, * if you 
 let the cat out of the hag, I'll murther you.' 
 
 " ' An honest man would make no objection to be 
 sarched/ said the Squire; ' and I insist on it/ says he, 
 laying hold o' the bag, and Tom purtending to fight all 
 the time; but, my jewel! before two minutes, they shook 
 the cat out o' the bag, sure enough, and off she went with 
 her tail as big as a sweeping brush, and the squire, with a 
 thundering view-halloo after her, clapped the dogs at her 
 heels, and away they went for the bare life. Never was 
 there seen such running as that day — the cat made for a 
 shaking bog, the loneliest place in the whole country, and 
 there the riders were all thrown out, barrin' the huntsman, 
 who had a web-footed horse on purpose for soft places; 
 and the priest, whose horse could go anywhere by reason of 
 the priest's blessing; and, sure enough, the huntsman and 
 his riverence stuck to the hunt like wax; and just as the 
 cat got on the border of the bog, they saw her give a twist 
 ds the foremost dog closed with her, for he gave her a nip 
 in the flank. Still she went on, however, and headed 
 them well, toward an old mud cabin in the middle of the 
 bog, and there they saw her jump in at the window, and 
 up came the dogs the next minit, and gathered round the 
 nouse with the most horrid howling ever was heard. The 
 huntsman alighted, and went into the house to turn the 
 cat out again, when what should he see but an old hag ly- 
 ing in bed in the corner. 
 
 '' Did you see a cat come in here?' says he. 
 
 " * Oh, no — o — o — p!' squealed the old hag, in a tremb- 
 ling voice; ' there's no cat here,' says she. 
 
 " * Yelp, yelp, yelp!' went the dogs outside. 
 
 '' * Oh, keep the dogs out o' this,' says the old hag — * oh 
 — — — o!' and the huntsman saw her eyes glare under 
 the blanket, just like a cat's. 
 
 " ' Hillol' says the huntsman, pulling down the blanket 
 — and what should he see but the old hag's flank all in a 
 gore of blood. 
 
 " ' Ow, ow! you old divil — Is it you? you ould eat!' says 
 iie^ opening the door.
 
 370 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " In rushed tlie dogs — up jumped the old ha,g, and 
 changing into a cat before their eyes, out she darted through 
 the window again, and made another run for it; but she 
 couldn't escape, and the dogs gobbled her while you could 
 say ' Jack Robinson. ' But the most remarkable part of 
 this extraordinary story, gentlemen, is, that the pack was 
 ruined from that day out; for after having et'ten the en- 
 chanted cat, tlie devil a thing they would ever hunt after- 
 ward but mice. " 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 MuEPHT^s story was received with acclamation by all 
 but the little man. 
 
 " That is all a pack of nonsense,' ' said he. 
 
 '' Well, you're welcome to it, sir," said Murphy, " and 
 if I had greater nonsense you should have it; but seriously, 
 sir, I again must beg you to remember that the country 
 all around here abounds in enchantment; scarcely a night 
 passes without some fairy frolic; but, however you may 
 doubt the wonderful fact of the cat speaking, I wonder you 
 are not impressed with the points of moral in which the 
 story abounds — " 
 
 " Fiddlestick!" said the miniature snarler. 
 
 " First, the little touch about the corn monopoly * — then 
 maternal vanity chastised by the loss of the child's toe — ■ 
 then Tom's familiarity with his cat, showing the danger 
 arising from a man making too free with his female domes- 
 tics — -the historical point about the penal laws — the fatal 
 results of letting the cat out o' the bag, with the curious 
 final fact in natural history. " 
 
 " It's all nonsense," said the little man, " and I am 
 ashamed of myself for being such a fool as to sit a-hstening 
 to such stuff instead of going to bed, after the fatigue of 
 my journey and the necessity of rising early to-morrow, to 
 be in good time at the polling. ' ' 
 
 '" Oh! then you're going to the election, sir?" said Mur- 
 phy. 
 
 " Yes, sir — there's some sense in that — and you, gentle- 
 
 * Handy Andy was written when the "vexed question "of the 
 •' Corn Laws " was the all absorbing subject of discussion.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 2?1 
 
 men, remember we must be all up early — and I recomnieml 
 you to follow my example/' 
 
 The little man rang the bell — the bootjack and .slippers 
 were called for, and, after some delay, a very sleepy-look- 
 ing yossoon entered with a bootjack under his arm, but uo 
 slippers. 
 
 " Didn't I say slippers?" said the little man. 
 
 " You did, sir." 
 
 " Where are they, sir?" 
 
 " The masther says there isnH any, if you plaze, sir.'* 
 " No slippers! and you call this an inn? Oh! well, 
 ' what can't be cured must be endured,' hold me the boot- 
 jack, sir." 
 
 The gossoon obeyed — the little man inserted his heel in 
 the cleft, but, on attempting to pull his foot fi-om the boot, 
 he nearly went heels over head backward. Murphy caught 
 him and put him on his legs again. " Heads up, soldiers," 
 exclaimed Murtough; " I thought you were drinking too 
 much." 
 
 " Sir, I'm not intoxicated!" said the manikin, snap- 
 pishly. "It is the fault of that vile bootjack — what sort 
 of a thing is that you have brought?" added he in a rage 
 to the gossoon. 
 
 " It's the bootjack, sir; only one o' the bonis is gone, 
 you see,'' and he lield up to view a rough piece of board 
 with an angular slit in it, but one of " the horns," as he 
 called it, had been broken off at the top, leaving the article 
 useless. 
 
 " How dare you bring such a thing as that?" said the 
 little man, in a great rage. 
 
 " Why, sir, you ax'd for a bootjack, sure, and I brought 
 you the best I had — and it's not my fault it's bruk, so it is, 
 for it wasn't me bruk it, but Biddy batin' the cock." 
 
 " Beating the cock!" repeatel the little man in surprise. 
 '' Bless me! beat a cock with a bootjack! what savages!" 
 
 " Oh, it's not the he7i cock I mane, sir," said the gos- 
 soon, " but the beer cock — she was batin' the cock into the 
 barrel, sir, wid tlie bootjack, sir," 
 
 "That was decidedly wrong," said Murphy; " a boot- 
 jack is better suited to a heel-tap than a full measure. " 
 
 " She was tapping the beer, you mean?" said the little 
 man.
 
 1872 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " Faix, she wasn't tapping it at all, sir, but hittin' it 
 Tery hard, she was, and that's the way she bruk it." 
 
 " Barbarians!" exclaimed the little man; *' using a 
 bootjack instead of a hammer!" 
 
 " Sure the hammer was gone to the priest, sir; bekase 
 he wanted it for the crucifixion." 
 
 " The crucifixion!" exclaimed the little man, horrified' 
 *' is it possible they crucify people?" 
 
 '' Oh no, sir!" said tiie gossoon, grinning, " it's the 
 picthure I main, sir — an illigant picthure that is hung u] 
 in the chapel, and he wanted a hammer to dhrive the 
 nails — " 
 
 " Oh, a picture of the crucifixion," said the little man. 
 
 " Yes, sure, sir — the alther-j^iece, that was althered for 
 to fit to the pjlace, for it was too big when it came down 
 from Dublin, so they cut off the sides where the sojers was, 
 bekase it stopt out the windows, and wouldn't lave a bit o' 
 light for his riverence to read mass; and sure the sojers 
 were no loss out o' the alther-piece, and was hung up aftlier 
 in the vesthrey, and serve them right, the blackguards. 
 But it was sore agen our will to cut off the ladies at the 
 bottom, that was cryin' and roarin'; but great good luck, 
 the head o' the Blessed Virgin was presarved in the corner, 
 and sure it's beautiful to see the tears runnin' down her 
 face, just over the hole in the wall for the holy wather — 
 which is remarkable. " 
 
 The gossoon was much offended by the laughter that fol- 
 lowed his account of the altar-piece, which he had no in- 
 tention of making irreverential, and suddenly became 
 silent, with a muttered " More shame for yiz;" and as his 
 bootjack was impracticable, he was sent off Avith orders for 
 the chamber-maid to supply bed candles immediately. 
 
 The party soon separated for their various dormitories, 
 the little man leaving sundry charges to call them early in 
 the morning, and to be sure tohave liot water ready for shav- 
 ing, and, without fail, to have their boots polished in time 
 and left at their room doors; to all which injunctions he 
 severally received the answer of " Certainly, sir;" and as 
 the Tbedroom doors were slapped-to, one by one, the last 
 sound of the retiring party was the snappish voice of the 
 indefatigable little man, shouting, ere he shut his door, 
 *' Early — early — don't forget, Mistress Kelly — early /" 
 
 A shake-down for Mur|)hy in the parlor was hastily pi-e-
 
 HANDY ANDY. 273 
 
 pared; and after Mrs. Kelly was assured by Murtough that 
 he was quite comfortable, and perfectly content with bio 
 accommodation, for which she made scores of apologies, 
 with lamentations it was not better, etc., etc., the whole 
 household retired to rest, and in about a quarter of an 
 hour the inn was in perfect silence. 
 
 Then Murtough cautiously opened his door, and after 
 listening for some minutes, and being satisfied he was the 
 only watcher under the roof, he gently opened one of the 
 parlor windows and gave the preconcerted signal which he 
 and Dick had agreed upon. Dick was under the window 
 immediately, and after exchanging a few words with Mur- 
 tough, the latter Avithdrew, and taking off his boots, and 
 screening with his hand the light of a candle he carried, he 
 cautiously ascended the stairs, and proceeded stealthily 
 along the corridor of the dormitory, where, from the cham- 
 bers on each side, a concert of snoring began to be execut- 
 ed, and at all the doors stood the boots and shoes of the 
 inmates awaiting the aid of Day and Martin in the morn- 
 ing. But, oh! innocent calf -skins — elestmed to a far dif- 
 ferent fate — not Day and Martin, but Dick the Devil and 
 Company are in wait for you. Murphy collected as many 
 as he could carry under his arms and descended with them 
 to the parlor window, where they were transferred to Dick, 
 who carried them directly to the horse-pond which lay be- 
 hind the inn, and tbere committed them to the deep. 
 After a few journeys up and down-stairs, Murtough had 
 left the electors without a morsel of sole or upper leather, 
 and was satisfied that a considerable delay, if not a preven- 
 tion of their appearance at the poll on the morrow, would 
 be the consequence. 
 
 " There, Dick,*' said Murphy, " is the last of them," 
 as he handed the little man's shoes out of the window, 
 " and now, to save appearances, you must take mine too— . 
 for I must be without boots as well as the rest in the morn- 
 ing. What fun I shall have when the uproar begins—- 
 don't you envy me, Dick? There, be off now: but hark'e, 
 notwithstanding you take away my boots, you need not 
 throw them into the horse-pond. " 
 
 " Faith, an' I will," said Dick, dragging them out of 
 his hands; " 'twould not be honorable, if I didn't — I'd give 
 two pair of boots for the fun you'll have. " 
 
 '' j^onsense, Dick-r-Dick, I say — my boots!'*
 
 27 i KANDY AXDY. 
 
 *' Honorl" cried Dick, as he vanished round the cor- 
 ner. 
 
 ** That dev'j will keep his word/" muttered Murphy, as 
 he closed the window — "I may bid good-bye to that pair 
 of boots — bad luck to him I'' And j-et the merry attorney 
 could not help laughing at Dick making him a sulferer by 
 his own trick. 
 
 Dick did keep his word; and after, with particular de- 
 light, sinking Murphy 's boots with the rest, he, as it was pre- 
 concerted, returned to the cottage of Barny, and with his 
 assistance drew the upset gig from the ditch, and with a 
 itecond set of harness, provided for the occasion, yoked the 
 ijervant's horse to the vehicle and drove home. 
 
 Murj^hy, meanwhile, was bent on more mischief at the 
 inn ; and lest the loss of the boots and shoes might not be 
 productive of sufficient impediment to the movements of 
 the enemy, he determined on venturing a step further. 
 The heavy sleeping of the weary and tipsy travelers enabled 
 him to enter their chambers unobserved, and over the gar- 
 ments they had taken off he poured the contents of the 
 water-] ug and water-bottle he found in each room, and 
 then laying the empty bottle and a tumbler on a chair be- 
 side each sleej)er's bed, he made it api^earas if thedrunkei? 
 men had been dry in the night, and, in their endeavors to 
 cool their thirst, had upset the water over their own 
 clothes. The clothes of the little man, in particular, Mur- 
 jphy took especial delight in sousing more profusely than 
 his neighbor's, and not content with taking his shoes, 
 burned his stockings, and left the ashes in the dish of the 
 candlestick, with just as much unconsumed as would show 
 TV'hat they had been. He then retired to the parlor, and 
 with many an internal chuckle at the thought of the morn- 
 ing's hubbub, threw off his clothes and flinging himself on 
 the shake-down Mrs. Kelly had provided for him, was soon 
 tvrappcd in the profoundest slumber, from which he never 
 awoke until the morning uproar of the inn aroused him. 
 He jumped from his lair and rushed to the scene of action, 
 to soar in the storm of his own raising; and to make it 
 more apparent that lie had been as great a sufferer as the 
 rest, he only threw a quilt over his shoulders and did not 
 draw on his stockings. In this plight he scaled the stairs 
 »nd joined the storming party, where the little man was 
 leading the forlorn hope, with his candlestick in one hand
 
 HANDY ANDY. 275 
 
 and the remnant of his burned stockmg Oetweeu the finger 
 and thumb ui the other. 
 
 " Look at that, su-!'" he cried, as he held it up to the 
 landlord. 
 
 The landlord could only stare. 
 
 "Bless me I'-" cried Murphy, "how drunk you must 
 have been to mistake your stocking for an extinguisher!'^ 
 
 ** Drunk, sir — I wasn't drunk!" 
 
 " It looks very like it,'' said Murphy, who did not wait 
 for an answer, but bustled off to another party who was 
 wringing out his inexpressibles at the door of his bedroom, 
 and swearing at the gossoon that he must have his boots. 
 
 " I never seen them, sir," said the boy. 
 
 " I left them at my door," said the man. 
 
 " So did I leave mine," said Murphy, '•' and here I am 
 barefooted — it is most extraordinary. ' ' 
 
 " Has the house been robbed?" said the innocent elector. 
 *• Not a one o' me knows, sir!" said the boy; *' but how 
 could it be robbed and the doors all fast this momin'!'"' 
 
 The landlady now appeared, and fired at the word 
 "robbed!" 
 
 '■' Eobbed, sir!" exclaimed Mrs. Kelly; "no, sir— no 
 one was ever robbed in my house — my house is respectable- 
 and responsible, sir — a vartuous house — none o' your ranti- 
 pole places, sir, I'd have you to know, but decent and well 
 behaved, and the house was as quiet as a lamb all night." 
 
 " Certainly, Mrs. Kelly," said Murphy, "not a more 
 respectable house in Ireland — I'll vouch for that. " 
 
 " You're a gentleman, Misther Murphy," said Mrs. 
 Kelly, who turned down the passage, uttermg indignant 
 ejaculations in a sort of snorting manner, while her words 
 of anger were returned by oVhirphy with expressions of 
 soothing and condolence as he followed her down-stairs. 
 
 The storm still continued above, and Avhile there they 
 shouted and swore and complained. Murphy gave his 
 notion of the catastrophe to the landlady below, inferring 
 that the men were drunk and poured the water over their 
 own clothes. To repeat this idea to themselves he re- 
 ascended, but the men were incredulous. The little man 
 he found buttoning on a pair of black gaiters, the only 
 serviceable decency he had at his command, which only 
 rendered his denuded state more ludicrous. To him Mur- 
 phy asserted his belief that the whole affair wa« enchant-
 
 276 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 ment, and ventured to hope the small individual would 
 bave more faith in fairy machinations for the future; to 
 v^hich the little abortion only returned his usual *' Pho! 
 pho! nonsense T' 
 
 Through all this scene of uproar, as Murphy passed to 
 and fro, whenever he encountered the landlord, that worthy 
 individual threw him a knowing look; and the exclamation 
 of " Oh, Misther Murphy — by dad!" given in a low 
 chuckling tone, insinuated that the landlord not only 
 smoked but enjoyed the joke. 
 
 " You must lend rao a pair of boots, Kelly!" said Mur- 
 tough. 
 
 To be sure, sir — ha! ha! ha! but you are the quare 
 man, Misther Murphy!" 
 
 " Send down the road and get my gig out of the ditch." 
 
 *' To be sure, sir. Poor devils! purty hands they got 
 into,'* and off went the landlord, with a chuckle. 
 
 The messengers sent for the gig returned, declaring there 
 was no gig to be seen anywhere. 
 
 Murjwiy affected great surprise at the intelligence — again 
 went among the bamboozled electors, who were all obliged 
 to go to bed for want of clothes: and his bitter lamenta- 
 tions over the loss of his gig almost reconciled them to 
 their minor troubles. 
 
 To the fears they expressed that they should not be able 
 to reach the town in time for polling that day. Murphy told 
 them to set their minds at rest, for they would be in time 
 on the next. 
 
 He then borrowed a saddle as well as the pair of boots 
 from the landlord, and the little black mare bore Murpny 
 triumphantly back to the town, after he had securely im- 
 pounded Scattei-brain's voters, who were anxiously and 
 hourly expected by their friends. Still they came not. At 
 last. Handy Andy, who happened to be in town with Scat- 
 terbrain, was dispatched to hurry them, and his orders 
 were not to come back without them. 
 
 Handy, on his arrival at the inn, found the electors in 
 bed, and all the fires in the house employed in drying their 
 clothes. The little man, wrapped in a blanket, was super- 
 intending the cooking of his own before the kitchen grate; 
 there hung his garments on some cross sticks suspended by 
 a string, after the fashion of a roasting-jack, which the 
 small gentleman turned befere a blazing turf fire: and b^
 
 HAXDY AXDT. 27? 
 
 side this conti*ivance of his swuiio- a goodly joint of meat, 
 which a bouncing kitchen-wench came over to baste now 
 and then. 
 
 Andy was answering some questions of the inquisitive 
 little man, when the kiLcheu-maid, handing the basting- 
 ladle to Andy, begged him to do a good turn and just to 
 baste the beef for her, for that her heart was broke with 
 all she had to do, cooking dinner for so many. 
 
 Andy, always ready to oblige, consented, and plied the 
 ladle actively between tlie troublesome queries of the little 
 man; but at last, getting confused with some very crabbed 
 questions put to him, Andy became completely bothered, 
 and lifting a brimi^iing ladle of dripping, poured it over 
 the little man's coat instead of the beef. 
 
 A roar from the pro])rietor of the clothes followed, and 
 he implanted a kick at such advantage upon Andy, that 
 he upset him into the dripping-pan; and Andy, in his fall, 
 endeavoring to support himself, caught at the suspended 
 articles above him, and the clothes, and tUe beef, and 
 Andy, all swam in gravy. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 While disaster and hubbub were rife below, the electors 
 upstairs were holding a council whether it would not be 
 better to send back the " Honorable's " messenger to the 
 town and request a supply of shoes, which tiiey had no other 
 means of getting. The deljate was of an odd sort; they 
 were all in their several beds at the time, and roared at 
 each other through their doors, which were purposely left 
 open that they might enjoy each other's conversation; 
 number seven replied to number three, and claimed respect 
 to his arguments on the score of seniority; the blue room 
 was completely controverted by the yellow; and the double 
 bedded room would, of course, have had superior weight in 
 the argument, only that everything it said was lost by the 
 two honorable members speaking together. The French 
 king used to hold a council called a *' bed of justice," in 
 which neither justice nor a bed had anything to do, so that 
 this Irish conference better deserved the title than any 
 council the Bourbon ever assembled. The debate having 
 concluded, and the question being put and carried, the ushe/
 
 27S HANDY ANDY. 
 
 of the black counterpane was desired to get out of bed, 
 and, wrapped in the robe of office whence he derived his 
 title, to go down-stairs and call the '' Honorable ^s " mes- 
 senger to the " bar of the house,'' and there order him a 
 pint of porter, for refreshment after his ride ; and forth- 
 with to send him back again to the town for a supply of 
 shoes. 
 
 The house was unanimous in voting the supplies. The 
 usher reached the kitchen and found Andy in his shirt- 
 sleeves, scraping the dripping from his livery with an old 
 knife, whose hackled edge considertdily assisted Andy's own 
 ingenuity in the tearing of his coat in many places, wliile 
 the little man made no effort toward the repair of his gar- 
 ment, but held it up before him, and regarded it with a 
 piteous look. 
 
 To the usher of the black counterpane's question, 
 whether Andy was the " Honorable's messenger," Andy 
 replied in the affirmative; but to the desire expressed, that 
 he would ride back to the town, Ajidy i-etui-iied a decidcil 
 negative. 
 
 " My ordhers is not to go back without yoii," said Andy. 
 
 " But we have no shoes," said the usher; "" and can not 
 go until we get some." 
 
 *' My ordhers is not to go back without you." 
 
 " But if we can't go?" 
 
 *' Well, then, I can't go back, that's all," said Andy. 
 
 The usher, the landlord, and the landlady all hammered 
 away at Andy for a long time, in vain trying to convince 
 him he ought to return, as he was desired; still Andy stuck 
 to the letter of his orders, and said he often got into trouble 
 for not doing exactly what he was bid, and that he was 
 bid " not to go back without them, and he would not — so 
 he wouldn't— divil a fut, " 
 
 At last, however, Andy was made to understand the 
 propriety of riding back to the town ; and was desired to 
 go as fast as his horse could carry him, to gallop every foot 
 of the way; but Andy did no such thing: he had receiveil 
 a good thrashing once for being caught galloping his mas- 
 ter's horse on the road, and he had no intention of running 
 the risk a second time, because '*' ihe afra/iger " told him 
 to do so. " What does he know about it?" said Andy to 
 himself: " faith, it's fair and aisy I'll go, atid not disthress 
 the horse to nlaze anv ons."" »o he went back his tea
 
 HAXDY AXDY. 270 
 
 miles at a reasonable pace only; and when he appeared 
 without the electors, a storm burst on poor Andy. 
 
 '•' There! I knew how it would be/' said he, " and not 
 my fault at all/' 
 
 " Weren't you told not to return without them?'* 
 . ''But wait till I tell you how it was, sure;" and then 
 Andy began an account of the condition in which the 
 voters lay at the inn; but between the impatience of those 
 who heard, and the confused manner of Andy's recital, it 
 was some time before matters were explained; and then 
 Andy was desired to ride back to the inn again, to tell the 
 electors shoes should be forwarded after him in a post- 
 chaise, and requesting their utmost exertions in hastening 
 over to the town, for that the election was going against 
 them. Andy returned to the inn; and this time, under 
 orders from head-quarters, galloped in good earnest, and 
 brought in his horse smoking hot, and indicating lameness. 
 The day was wearing apace, and it was so late when the 
 electors were enabled to start that the polling-booths were 
 closed before they could leave the town; and in many of 
 these booths the requisite number of electors had not been 
 polled that day to keep them open ; so that the next day 
 nearly all those outlying electors, about whom there had 
 been so much trouble and expense, would be of no avail. 
 Thus, Murjjhy's trick was quite successful, and the poor 
 pickled electors were driven back to their inn in dudgeon. 
 
 Andy, when he went to the stable to saddle his steed, for 
 a return to IS'eck-or-nothing Hall, found him dead lame, 
 so that to ride him better than twelve miles home was im- 
 possible. Andy was obliged to leave him where he was, 
 and trudge it to the Hall; for all the horses in Kelly's sta- 
 bles were knocked up with their day's work. 
 
 As it was shorter by four miles across the country than 
 by the road, Andy pursued the former course; and as he 
 knew the country well, the shades of evening, which were 
 now closing round, did not deter him in the least. Andy 
 was not very fresh for the journey to be sure, for he had 
 ridden upward of thirty miles that day, so the merry whis- 
 tle, which is so constantly heard from the lively Irish pe- 
 destrian, did not while away the tedium of his walk. It 
 was night when Andy was breasting up a low ridge of hills, 
 which l&y between him and the end of his journey; and 
 when in silence and darkness he topped the ascent, he
 
 280 HAH-DT ANDY. 
 
 threw himself on some heather to rest and take breath. 
 His attention was suddenly caught by a small blue flame, 
 which flickered now and then on the face of the hill, not 
 very far from him; and Andy's fears of fairies and goblins 
 came crowding upon him thick and fast. He wished to 
 rise, but could not; his eye continued to be strained with 
 the fascination of fear in the direction he saw the fire, and 
 sought to pierce the gloom through which, at intervals, the 
 small point of flame flashed brightly and sunk again, mak- 
 ing the darkness seem deeper. Andy lay in perfect still- 
 ness, and in the silence, which was unbroken even by his 
 own breathing, he thought he heard voices underground. 
 He trembled from head to foot, for he was certain they 
 were the voices of the fairies, whom he firmly believed to 
 inhabit the hills. 
 
 " Oh! murdher, what'll I do?'' thought Andy to him- 
 self: " sure I heerd often, if once you were within the sound 
 of their voices, you could never get outo' their power. Oh! 
 if I could only say a pather and ave, but I forget my pray- 
 ers with the fright. Hail, Mary! The king o' the fairies 
 lives in these hills, I know — and his house is undher me 
 this minit, and I on the roof of it — I'll never get down 
 again — I'll never get down again — they'll make me slater 
 to the fairies; and sure enough I remember me, the hill is 
 all covered with flat stones they call fairy slates. Oh! I 
 am ruined — God be praised!" Here he blessed himself, 
 and laid his head close to the earth. " Guardian angels — 
 
 I hear their voices singin' a dhrinking song Oh! if I 
 
 had a dhrop o' water myself, for my mouth is as dhry as a 
 lime-burner's wig — and I on the top o' their house — see — 
 there's the little blaze again — 1 wondher is their chimbley 
 afire — Oh! murther, I'll die o' thirst — Oh! if I had only 
 one dhrop o' wather — I wish it would rain or hail — Hail, 
 Mary, full o' grace — whisht! what's that?" Andy couched 
 lower than before, as he saw a figure rise from the earth, 
 and attain a height which Andy computed to be sometliing 
 about twenty feet; his heart shrunk to the size of a nut- 
 shell, as he beheld the monster expand to his full dimen- 
 sions; and at the same moment, a second, equally large, 
 emerged from the ground. 
 
 Now, as fairies are notoriously little people, Andy 
 changed his opinion of the parties into whose power he had 
 fallen^ an4 saw clearly they were giants; not fairies, o|
 
 HANDY AKDT. 381 
 
 whom he was about to become the victim. He would have 
 ejaculated a prayer for mercy, had not terror rendere(j him 
 speechless, as the remembrance of all the giants he had 
 ever heard of, from the days of Jack and the Bean-stalk 
 down, came into his head; but though his sense of speak- 
 ing was gone, that of hearing was painfully acute, and he 
 heard one of the giants say: 
 " That pot is not big enough/^ 
 
 ** Oh! it howlds as much as we want,*' replied the other. 
 
 ** Lord,*' thought Andy; " theyVe got their pot ready 
 lor cooking." 
 
 " What keeps him?'* said the first giant. 
 
 " Oh! he's not far off," said the second. 
 
 A clammy shivering came over Andy. 
 
 " I'm hungry/' said the first, and he hiccoughed as he 
 gpoke. 
 
 " It's only a false appetite you have," said the second, 
 "you're drunk." 
 
 This was a new light to Andy, for he thought giants 
 were too strong to get drunk. 
 
 '* I could ate a young child, without parsley and but- 
 ther, " said the drunken giant. Andy gave a faint spas- 
 modic kick. 
 
 '* And it's as hot as down there," said the giant. 
 
 Andy trembled at the horrid word he heard. 
 
 *' No wonder," said the second giant; " for I can see 
 the flame popping out at the top of the chimbley; that's 
 bad : I hope no one will see it, or it might give them warn- 
 ing. Bad luck to that young divil for making the fire so 
 sthrong. "i 
 
 What a dreadful hearing this was for Andy: young dev- 
 ils to make their fires; there was no doubt what place they 
 were dwellmg in. " Thunder and turf!" said the drunken 
 giant; ** I wish I had a slice of — " 
 
 Andy did not hear what he wished a slice of, for the 
 night wind swept across the heath at the moment, and 
 carried away the monster's disgusting words on its pure 
 breath. 
 
 " Well I'd rather have — " said the other giant; and 
 again Andy lost what his atrocious desires were — ** than 
 all the other slices in the world. What a lovely roun^ 
 shoulder she has and the nice round ankle of her — ' '
 
 B82 HANDY AN"DT. 
 
 The word " ankle " showed at once it was a woman of 
 whom he spoke and Andy shuddered. " The monsters! 
 to eat a woman. " 
 
 *' What a fool you are to be in love/' said the drunken 
 giant with several liiccoughs, showing the increase of his 
 inebriation. 
 
 " Is that what the brutes call love/' thought Andy, " to 
 ate a woman!" 
 
 *' I wish she was bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh,' ' 
 said the second giant. 
 
 Of this speech Andy heard only " bone " and " flesh/' 
 and had great difficulty in maintaining the serenity of his 
 diaphragm. 
 
 The conversation of the giants was now more frequently 
 interrupted by the wind which was rising, and only broken 
 sentences reached Andy, whose senses became clearer the 
 longer he remained in a state of safety; at last he heard 
 the name of Squire Egan distinctly pass between the 
 giants. 
 
 " So they know Squire Egan," thought Andy. 
 
 The first giant gave a drunken laugh at the mention of 
 Squire Egan's name, and exclaimed: 
 
 " Don't be afraid of him {hiccough): I have him undher 
 my thumb (hiccough). I can crush him when I plase. " 
 
 ''Oh! my poor owld masther!" mentally ejaculated 
 Andy. 
 
 Another break in their conversation occurred, and the 
 next name Andy overheard was " O'Grady." 
 
 " The big bully!" said the second giant. 
 
 *' They know the whole country," thought Andy. 
 
 *' But tell me, what was that you said to him at the 
 election?" said the drunken one. 
 
 The word " election " recalled Andy to the business of 
 this earth back again; and it struck upon his hitherto be- 
 wildered sensorium that giants could have nothing to do 
 with elections, and he knew he never saw them tliere; 
 and, as the thought struck him, it seemed as if the giants 
 diminished in size, and did not appear quife so big. 
 
 " Sure you know," said the second. 
 
 *' Well, I'd like to heai' it again, " said the drunken one 
 (hiccough). 
 
 " The big bully says to me, ' Have you a lease?' says
 
 HANDY ANDY. 283 
 
 he; ' No,' says I; * but I have an article!^ ' What arti- 
 cle?' says he; ' It's a fine brass bhmderbuss/ says I, '' and 
 I'd like to see the man icould dispute the title!' " 
 
 The drunken listener chuckled, and the words broke the 
 sjiell of supernatural terror wliich had hung over Andy; he 
 knew, by the words of the speaker, it was the bully joker 
 of the election was present, who browbeat 'Grady and 
 outquibbled the agent about the oath of allegiance; and 
 the voice of the other he soon recognized for that of Larry 
 Hogan. So now his giants were diminished into mortal 
 men — the pot, which had been mentioned to the terror of 
 his soul, was for the making of whisky instead of human 
 broth — and the "hell" he thought his giants inhabited 
 was but a private still. Andy felt as if a mountain had 
 been lifted from his heart when he found it was but mor- 
 tals he had to deal with; for Andy was not deficient in 
 courage when it was but thews and sinews Hke his own he 
 had to encounter. He still lay concealed, however, for 
 smugglers might not wish their private haunt to be discov- 
 ered, and it was possible Andy would be voted one too 
 many in the company should he announce himself; and 
 with such odds as two to one against him he thought he 
 had better be quiet. Besides, his curiosity became excited 
 when 2ie found them speaking of his old master, Egan, and 
 his present one, 0' Grady; and as a Avoman had been al- 
 luded to, and odd words caught up here and there, he be- 
 came anxious to hear more of their conversation. 
 
 " So you're in love,'' said Larry, with a hiccough, to our 
 friend of the blunderbuss; "ha! ha! ha! you big fool." 
 
 " Well, you old thief, don't you like a purty girl your- 
 self?" 
 
 " I did, when I was young and foolish." 
 
 " Faith, then, you're young and foolish at that rate yet, 
 vou're a rogue with the girls, Larry," said the other, giv- 
 ing him a slap on the back. 
 
 " Not I! not II" said Larry, in a manner expressive of 
 his not being displeased with the charge of gallantry; "he! 
 he! he! — how do you know, eh?" (Hiccough.) 
 
 " Sure, I know myself; but as I wos telling you, if I 
 could only lay howld of — " here his voice became inaudi- 
 ble to Andy, and the rest of the sentence was lost. 
 
 Andy's curiosity was great. " Who could the girl be?"
 
 284 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " And you'd carry her off?" said Larry. 
 
 " I would/' said the other; "I'm only afraid o' Squire 
 £gan. " 
 
 At this announcement of the intention of " carrying her 
 off/' coupled with the fear of " Squire Egan/' Andy's 
 anxiety to hear the name of the person became so intense 
 that he crawled cautiously a little nearer to the speak- 
 ers. 
 
 " I tell you again/' said Larry, *' I can settle him aisy 
 {liiccouyh) — he's under my thumb (liiccough)." 
 
 " Be aisy/' said the other, contemptuously, who thought 
 this was a mere drunken delusion of Larry's. 
 
 " I tell you I'm his masther!" said Larry, with a 
 drunken flourish of his arm ; and he continued bragging of 
 his power over the Squire in A'arious ejaculations, the exact 
 meaning of which our friend of the bhmderbuss could not 
 fathom, but Andy heard enough to show him that the dis- 
 covery of the post-office affair was what Larry alluded 
 to. 
 
 That Larry, a close, cunning, circumventing rascal, 
 should so far betray the source of his power over Egan may 
 seem strange; but be it remembered Larry was drunk, a 
 state of weakness which his caution generally guarded him 
 from falling into, but which being in, his foible was brag- 
 ging of his influence, and so running the risk of losing it. 
 
 The men continued to talk together for some time, and 
 the tenor of the conversation was, that Larry assured his 
 companion he might carry off the girl without fear of Egan, 
 but her name Andy could not discover. His own name he 
 heard more than once, and voluptuous raptures poured forth 
 about lovely lips and hips and ankles from the herculean 
 knight of the blunderbuss, amidst the maudlin admiration '■. 
 and hiccoughs of Larry, who continued to brag of his power, 
 and profess his readiness to stand by his friend in carrying 
 off the girl. 
 
 " Then," said the Hercules, with an oath, " I'll soon 
 have you in my arms, my lovely — " 
 
 The name was lost again. 
 
 Their colloquy was now interrupted by the approach of 
 a man and woman, the former being the person for whose 
 appearance Larry made so many inquiries when he first 
 appeared to Andy as the hungry giant; the other was the 
 wster of the knight of the blimderbuss, Larry having
 
 HANDY ANDY. 885 
 
 hiccoughed his anger against the man for making them wait 
 60 long for the bacon, the woman said he should not wait 
 longer without his supper now, for that she would go down 
 and fry the rashers immediately. She then disappeared 
 through the ground, and the men ail followed. 
 
 Andy drew his breath freely once more, and with cau- 
 tion raised himself gradually from the ground with a care- 
 ful circumspection, lest any of the subterranean community 
 might be watchers on the hill; and when he was satisfied 
 he was free from observation, he stole away from the spot 
 with stealthy steps for about twenty paces, and there, as 
 well as the darkness would permit, after taking such land- 
 marks as would help him to retrace his way to the still, if 
 requisite, he dashed down the hill at the top of his speed. 
 This pace he did not moderate until he had placed nearly 
 a mile between him and the scene of his adventure; he 
 then paced slowly to regain his breath. His head was in a 
 strange whirl ; mischief Avas threatened against some one of 
 whose name he was ignorant; Squire Egan was declared to 
 be in the power of an old rascal; this grieved Andy most 
 of all, for he felt he was the cause of his old master's 
 dilemma. 
 
 "' Oh! to think I should bring him into trouble,'' said 
 Andy, "the kind and good masther he was to me ever, 
 and I live to tell it like a blackguard — troth I'd rather be 
 hanged any day than the masther would come to throuble 
 — maybe if I gave myself up and was hanged like a man at 
 once, that would settle it; faith, if I thought it would, I'd 
 do it sooner than Squire Egan should come to throuble!" 
 and poor Andy spoke Just what he felt. " Or would it do 
 to kill that blackguard Hogan? sure they could do no more 
 than hang me afther* and that would save the masther, 
 and be all one to me, for they often towld me I'd be 
 hanged. But then there's my sowl,"said Andy, and he 
 paused at the thought; '' if they hanged me for the let- 
 thers, it would be only for a mistake, and sure then I'd 
 have a chance o' glory; for sure I might go to glory 
 through a mistake; but if I killed a man on purpose, sure 
 
 * How often has the sanguinary penal code of past years sug- 
 gested this reflection and provoked the guilt it was meant to awe! 
 Happily, now our laws are milder, and more protective from their 
 mildness.
 
 986 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 it would be slaj^pin' the gates of Heaven in my own face. 
 Fsiix., I'll spake to Father Blake about it. "* 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 The following day was that eventful one wliich should 
 witness the return of either Edward Egan^ Esq., or the 
 Honorable Sackville Scatterbrain, as member for the 
 county. There was no doubt in any reasonable man's 
 mind as to the real majority of Egan, but the numbers 
 were sufficiently close to give the sheriff an opportunity of 
 doing a bit of business to oblige his friends, and therefore 
 ii3 declared the Honorable Sackville Scatterbrain duly 
 elected. Great was the uproar; the people hissed, and 
 hooted, and groaned, for which the Honorable Sackville 
 very good-naturedly returned them his thanks. Murphy 
 snapped his fingers in the sheriff' 's face, and told him his 
 honorable friend should not long remain member, for that 
 he must be unseated on petition, and tiiat he would prove 
 the return most corrupt, with which words he again 
 snapped his fingers in the sheriff's face. 
 
 The sheriff' threatened to read the riot act if such con- 
 duct was repeated. 
 
 Egan took off his hat, and thanked him for liis liouor- 
 ahle, vpright, and impartldl conduct, whereupon all 
 Egan's friends took off their hats also, and made profoimcl 
 bows to the functionary, and then laughed most uproar 
 iously. Counter laughs were returned from the opposito 
 party, who begged to remind the Eganites of the old say- 
 ing, "that they might laugh who win." A cross-fire of 
 
 * In the foregoing passage, Andy stumbles on uttering a quaint 
 pleasantry, for it is partly true as well as droll — the notion of a man 
 gaining Paradise through a mistake. Our intentions too seldom 
 lead us there, but rather tend the other way, for a certain place is 
 said to be paved with " good " ones, and surely " bad" ones would 
 not lead us upward. Tlien the phrase of a man "slapping the 
 (^ates of Heaven in his own face," is one of those wild poetic figures 
 of speech in which the Irish peasantry often indulge. The phrase 
 "slapping the door " is every-day and common; but when applied 
 to " the gates of Heaven," and " in a man's own face," the common 
 phrase becomes fine. But how often the commonest things become 
 poetry by the fitness of their applicntion, though poetasters and 
 people of sn:ia!l nunds think greatness of tliought lies in big words.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 287 
 
 sarcasms was kept up amidst the two parties as they were 
 crushing forward out of the court-house; and at the door, 
 before entering his carriage, Scatterbrain very politely ad- 
 dressed Egan, and trusted that, though they had met as 
 rivals on the hustings, they nevertheless parted friends, 
 and expressing the highest respect for the squire offered hi3 
 hand in amity, 
 
 Egan, equally good-hearted as his opponent, shook his 
 hand cordially; declaring he attributed to him none of the 
 blame which attached to other persons. " Besides, my 
 dear sir,'' said Egan, laughmg, "I should be a very ill- 
 natured ]3erson to grudge you so small an indulgence a? 
 being member of Parliament /or a month or so." 
 
 Scatterbrain returned the laugh, good-humoredly, and 
 replied that, " at all events, he had the seat. " 
 
 " Yes, my dear sir," said Egan, " and make the most 
 of it iL'hih you have it. In short, I shall owe you an 
 obligation when I go over to St. Stephen's, for you will 
 ^ have just aired my seat for me — good-bye." 
 
 They parted with smiles, and drove to their respective 
 homes; but as even doubtful possession is preferable to ex- 
 pectation for the time being, it is certain that Neck-or- 
 nothing Hall rang with more merriment that night on the 
 reality of the present, than Merryvale did on the hope of 
 the future. 
 
 Even 'Grady, as he lay with his wounded arm on the 
 sofa, found more healing in the triumph of the hour than 
 from all the medicaments of the foregoing week, and insist- 
 ed on going down-stairs and joining the party at supper. 
 
 '' Gusty dear," &aid his wife, '* you know the doctor 
 said—" 
 
 " Hang the doctor!" 
 
 '* Your arm, mv love. " 
 
 *' I wish you'd leave oif pitying my arm, and have some 
 compassion on my stomach." 
 
 " The doctor said—" 
 
 " There are oysters in the house; I'll do myself moro 
 good by the use of an oyster-knife than all the lancets iii 
 the College of Surgeons." 
 
 *' But your wound, dear?" 
 
 *' Are they Carlingfords or Poldoodies?'' 
 
 " So fresh, love." 
 
 ** So much the better. '*
 
 288 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 *' Your wound I mean, dear?*' 
 
 *' Nicely opened. " 
 
 *' Only dressed an hour ago?" 
 
 ** With some mustard, pepper, and vinegar/*'' 
 
 ** Indeed, Gusty, if you take my advice — " 
 
 ** I'd rather have oysters any day/' 
 
 0' Grady sat up on the sofa as he spoke and requested 
 tiis wife to say no more about the matter, but put on his 
 sravat. While she was getting it from his wardrobe, his 
 mind wandered from supper to the pension, which he 
 looked upon as secure now that Scatterbrain was returned ; 
 and oyster-banks gave place to the Bank of Ireland, which 
 rose in a pleasing image before 0' Grady's imagination. 
 The wife now returned with the cravat, still dreading the 
 result of eating to her husband, anrl her mind occupied 
 wholly with the thought of supper, while 0" Grady was 
 wrapped in visions of a pension. 
 
 " You won't take it. Gusty, dear,*' said his wife with 
 all the insinuation of manner she could command. 
 
 '' Won't I, faith?" said O'Grady. " Maybe you think 
 I don't want it?" 
 
 " Indeed, I don't, dear." 
 
 " Are you mad, woman? Is it taking leave of the few 
 senses you ever had you are?" 
 
 " 'T won't agree with you." 
 
 " Won't it? just wait till I'm tried." 
 
 " Well, love, how much do you expect to be allowed?" 
 
 *' Why I can't expect much just yet — we must begin 
 gently — feel the pulse first; but I should hope, by way of 
 start, that six or seven hundred — " 
 
 "Gracious Heaven I" exclaimed his wife, dropping the 
 cravat from her hands. 
 
 "What the devil is the woman shouting at?" said 
 0' Grady. 
 
 Six" or seven hundred! ! V exclaimed Mrs. O'Grady; 
 
 my dear, there's not as much in the house." 
 
 " No, nor has not been for many a long day; I know 
 that as well as you," said O'Grady; " but I hope we shall 
 get as much for all that." 
 
 " My dear, where could you get them?" asked the wife, 
 timidly, who began to think his head was a little light. 
 
 " From the treasury, to be siire.'^ 

 
 HANDY ANDY. 289 
 
 (( 
 
 The treasury, my dear?'' sairl the wife, still at fault- 
 *'* how could you get oysters from the treasury ?'' 
 
 " Oysters!" exclaimed O'Grady, whose turn it was now 
 to wonder, " who talks of oysters?" 
 
 " My dear, I thought you said you'd eat six or seven 
 hundred of oysters!" 
 
 " Pooh! pooh! woman; it is of the pension I'm talking 
 — six or seven hundred pounds — pounds — cash — per 
 annum; now I suppose you'll put on my cravat. I think 
 a man may be allowed to eat his supper who expects six 
 hundred a year." 
 
 A great many people besides O'Grady order suppers, and 
 dinners too, on the expectation of less than six hundred a 
 year. Perhaps there is no more active agent for sending 
 people into the Insolvent Court than the aforesaid " ex- 
 fed at ion." 
 
 O'Grady went down-stairs, and was heartily welcomed 
 by Scatterbrain on his re-appearance from his sick-room; 
 but Mrs. O'Grady suggested, that, for fear any excess 
 would send him back there for a longer time, a very mod- 
 erate indulgence at the table should suffice. She begged 
 the honorable member to back her argument, which he did; 
 and O'Grady promised temperance, but begged the imme- 
 diate appearance of the oysters, for he experienced that 
 eager desire which delicate health so often prompts for 
 some particular food. 
 
 Andy was laying the table at the time, and was ordered 
 to expedite matters as much as possible. 
 
 " Yis, ma'am." 
 
 " You're sure the oysters are all good, Andy?" 
 
 " Sartin, ma'am." 
 
 *' Because the last oysters you know — " 
 
 '' Oh, yis, ma'am — were bad, ma'am — bekase they had 
 their mouths all open. I remember, ma'am; but when 
 I'm towld a thing once, I never forget it again; and you 
 towld me when they opened their mouths once they were 
 no good. So you see, ma'am, I'll never bring up bad 
 oysthers again, ma'am. " 
 
 " Very good, Andy; and you have kept them in a cool 
 place, I hope. " 
 
 " Faix, they're cowld enough where I put them, ma'am." 
 " Very well; brine: them up at once." 
 
 10
 
 290 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 Off went Andy, and returned with all the haste he could 
 with a large dish heaped up with oysters. 
 
 0^ Grady rubbed his hands with the impatience of a true 
 lover of the crustaceous delicacy, and Scatterbrain, eager 
 to help him, flourished his oyster-knife; but before he had 
 time to commence operations the olfactory nerves of the 
 company gave evidence that the oj^sters were rather suspi- 
 cious; every one begun sniffing, and a universal, '' Oh 
 dear!^' ran round the table. 
 
 " DonH you smell it. Furlong.^" said Scatterbrain, who 
 was so lost in looking at Augusta's mustachios that he did 
 not mind anything else. 
 
 " Isn't it horrid?" said O'Grady, with a look of disgust. 
 
 Furlong thought he alluded to the mustachio, and re- 
 plied with an assurance that he " liked it of all things." 
 
 "Like it?" said O'Grady; "you've a queer taste. 
 What do you think of it, miss?" added he to Augusta, 
 " it's just under your nose." 
 
 Furlong thought this rather personal, even from a father. 
 
 " I'll try my knife on one," said Scatterbrain, with a 
 flourish of the oyster-knife, which Furlong thought resem- 
 bled the preliminary trial of a barber's razor. 
 
 Furlong thought this worse than O'Grady; but he hesi- 
 tated to reply to his chiefs and an honorable into the bar- 
 gain. 
 
 In the meantime, Scatterbrain opened an oyster, which 
 Furlong, in his embarrassment and annoyance, did not 
 perceive. 
 
 " Cut off the beard," said O'Grady, " I don't like it. " 
 This nearly made Furlong sjjeak, but, considering 
 0' Grady's temper and ill-health, he hesitated, till he saw 
 Augusta rubbing her ej^e, in consequence of a small splinter 
 of the oyster-shell having struck it from Scatterbrain' s mis- 
 management of his knife; but Furlong thought she was 
 crying, and then he could be silent no longer; he went 
 over to where she sat, and with a very affectionate demon- 
 stration in his action, said, " Nevermind them, dear Gussy 
 — never mind — don't cwy — I love her dear little mus- 
 tachios, I do." He gave a gentle pat on the back of 
 the neck as he spoke, and it was returned by an uncom- 
 monly smart box on the ear from the young lady, and the 
 whole party looked thimderstruck. ""^Dear Gussy " cried
 
 for spite, and stamped her way out of the room, followed 
 by Furlong. 
 
 " Let them go/" said O'Grady; " they'll make it up 
 outside. " 
 
 " These oysters are all bad," said Scatterbrain. ■» 
 
 O'Cfrady began to swear at his disappointment — he had 
 set his heart on oysters. Mrs. 'Grady rang the bell — 
 Andy appeared. 
 
 " "How dare you bring up such oysters as these?" roared 
 O'Grady. 
 
 " The misthris ordhered them, sir." 
 
 " I told you never to bring up bad oysters,*' said she. 
 " Them's not bad. ma'am," said Andy. 
 " Have you a nose?" says O'Grady. 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " And can't you smell them, then?" 
 *' Faix, I smelled them for the last thre^ days, sir. " 
 " And how could you say they were good, then?" asked 
 his mistress. 
 
 ' ' Sure you tould me, ma'am, that if they didn't open 
 their mouths they were good, and I'll be on my book oath 
 them oysters never opened their mouths since I had them, 
 for I laid them on a cool flag in the kitchen and put the 
 jack-weight over them. " 
 
 Notwithstanding O'Grady^ s rage, Scatterbrain could not 
 help roaring with laughter at Andy's novel contrivance for 
 keeping oysters fresh. Andy was desired to take the " an- 
 < cient and fish-like smell ' ' out of the room, amidst jeers 
 and abuse; and, as he fumbled his way to the kitchen in 
 the dark, lamenting the hard fate of servants, who can 
 never give satisfaction, though they do everjrthing they are 
 bid, he went head over heels doAvnstairs, which event was 
 reported to the whole house as soon as it happened, by the 
 enormous clatter of the broken dish, the oysters, and Andy, 
 as they all rolled one over the other to the bottom. 
 
 O'Grady, having missed the cool supper he intended, and 
 had longed for, was put into a rage by the disappointment; 
 and as hunger with O'Grady was only to be appeased by 
 broiled bones, accordingly, against all the endeavors of 
 everybody, the bells rang violently through the house, and 
 the ogre-like cry of ''' broiled bones!" resounded high and 
 low.
 
 ^9^ HANDY AKDY, 
 
 The reader Is sufficiently well acquainted with O'Gradj 
 by this time to know, that of course, when once he had de- 
 termined to have his broiled bone, nothing on the face of 
 the earth could prevent it but the want of anythhig to broil, 
 or the immediate want of his teeth; and as his mastica- 
 tors were in order, and something in the house which could 
 carry mustard and pepper, the invalid primed and loaded , 
 himself with as much combustible matter as exploded in a 
 fever the next day. 
 
 The supper-party, however, in the hope of getting him 
 to bed, separated soon; and as Scatterbrain and Furlong 
 were to start early in the morning for Dublin, the necessity 
 of their retiring to rest was pleaded. The honorable mem. 
 ber had not been long in his room when he heard a tap at 
 his door, and his order to " come in '^ was followed by the 
 appearance of Handy Andy. 
 
 *' I found samethin^ on the road nigh the town to-day, 
 sir, and I thought it might be yours, maybe,'' said Andy, 
 producing a small pocket-book. 
 
 The honorable member disavowed the ownership. 
 
 " Well, there's something else I want to speak to your 
 honor about. " 
 
 " What is it. Handy?" 
 
 " I want your honor to see the account of the money 
 your honor gave me that I spint at the shebeen* upon the 
 lecthors that couldn't be accommodated at Mrs. Fay's." 
 
 "Oh! never mind it, Andy; if there's anything over, 
 keep it yourself. " 
 
 *' Thank your honor, but I must make the account all ^ 
 the same, if you plaze, for I'm going to Father Blake, to f 
 my duty,f soon, and I must have my conscience as clear 
 as I can, and I wouldn't like to be keeping money 
 back." 
 
 " But if I give you the money, what matter?" 
 
 "I'd rather you'd just look over this little bit of a 
 count, if you plaze," said Andy, producing a dirty piece 
 of paper, with some nearly inscrutable hieroglyphics upon it. 
 
 Scatterbrain commenced an examination of this literary 
 phenomenon from sheer curiosity, asking Andy at the same 
 time if he wrote it. 
 
 * Low public-hous«. \ Coufession.
 
 HAXDY ANDY. 293 
 
 " Yis, sir," said Audy; " but you see the man couldnH 
 keep the count of the piper's dhrink at all, it was so con- 
 fusin', and so I was obliged to pay him for that every time 
 the piper dhrunk and keep it separate, and the 'lecthors 
 that got their dinner afther the bill was made out I put 
 down myself too, and that's it you see, sir, both ating and 
 dhrinkin,." 
 
 To Dhiinkin A blinD piper everry day wan and 
 
 in Pens six dais 16 6 
 
 To atein four Tin Illikthurs And Thare horses [18 8 
 
 on Chewsdai : ) 14 
 
 Toe til 2 19 4 
 
 Landlord Bil For All Be four 7 17 8i 
 
 10 18 12i 
 
 " Then I owe you money, instead of your having a bal- 
 ance in hand, Andy," said the member. 
 
 " Oh, no matter, your honor; it's not for that I showed 
 you the account. " 
 
 " It's very like it, though," said Scatterbrain, laughing; 
 ** here, Andy, here are a couple of pounds for you, take 
 them, Andy — take it and be off; your bill is worth the 
 money,' ' and Scatterbrain closed the door on the great ac- 
 countant. 
 
 Andy next went to Furlong's room, to know if the 
 pocket-book belonged to him; it did not, but Furlong, 
 though he disclaimed the ownership, had that small curi- 
 osity which prompts little minds to pry into what does not 
 belong to them, and taking the pocket-book into his hands, 
 he opened it, and fumbled over its leaves; in the doing of 
 which a small piece of folded paper fell from one of the 
 pockets unnoticed by the impertinent inquisitor or Andy, 
 to whom he returned the book when he had gratified his 
 senseless curiositj'. 
 
 Andy withdrew. Furlong retired to rest; and as it was 
 in the gray of an autumnal morning he dressed himself, 
 the paper still remained unobserved; so that the house- 
 maid, on setting the room to rights, found it, and fancy- 
 ing Miss Augusta was the proper person to confide Mr.
 
 294 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 Furlong's stray papers to, she lianded that youug lady the 
 manuscript which bore the following copy of verses: 
 
 1 CAN NE'ER FORGET THEE. 
 I. 
 
 It is the chime, the hour draws near. 
 
 When yoi. and I must sever; 
 Alas, it must be manj^ a 5ear, 
 
 And it may be forever! 
 How long till we shall meet again ! 
 
 How short since first I met thee! 
 How brief the bliss— how long the pain— 
 
 For I can ne'er forget thee. 
 
 II. 
 
 You said my heart was cold and stern; 
 
 You doubted love when strongest: 
 In future days you'll live to learn 
 
 Proud hearts can love the longest. 
 Oh! sometimes think, when press'd to hear. 
 
 When flippant tongues beset thee, 
 That all must love thee, when thou'rt near, 
 
 But one will ne'er forget thee! 
 
 ni, 
 
 The changeful sand doth only know 
 
 The shallow tide and latest: 
 The rocks have mark'd its highest flow, 
 
 The deepest and the greatest; 
 And deeper still the flood-marks grow:— 
 
 So, since the hour I met thee, 
 The more the tide of time doth flow. 
 
 The less can 1 forget thee! 
 
 "When Augusta saw the lines, she was charmed. She 
 discovered her Furlong to be a poet I That the lines were 
 his there was no doubt — they were foundin his room, and 
 of course they must be his, just as partial critics say certain 
 Irish airs must be English, because they are to be found in 
 Queen Elizabeth's music-book. 
 
 Augusta was so charmed with the lines that she amused 
 herself for a long time in hiding them under the sofa-cush- 
 ion and making her pet dog find and fetch them. Her 
 pleasure, however, was interrupted by her sister Charlotte 
 remarking, when the lines were shown to her in triumph, 
 that the writing was not Furlong's, but in a lady's hand. 
 
 Even as beer is suddenly soured by thunder, so the elec-
 
 HANDY AXDT. 295 
 
 trie influence of Charlotte^'s words converted all Augusta 
 had ioeen brewing to acidity; jealousy stung her like a 
 wasp,, and she boxed her dog's ears as he was barking for 
 another run with the verses. 
 
 '' A hidy's hand?" said Augusta, snatching the paper 
 from her sister; "I declare if it Mhi'tl the wretch — so he 
 receives lines from hidies. " 
 
 " I think I know the hand, too," said Charlotte. 
 
 " You do?" exclaimed Augusta, with flashing eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I'm certain it is Fanny Daw^son's writing/' 
 
 " So it is,'' said Augusta, looking at the paper as if her 
 eyes could have burned it; *' to be sure — he was there be- 
 fore he came here. •" 
 
 " Only for two days," said Charlotte, trying to slake the 
 flame she had raised. 
 
 " But I've heard that girl always makes conquests at 
 first sight," returned Augusta, half crying; '' and what do 
 I see here? some words in pencil." 
 
 The words were so faint as to be scarcely perceptible, but 
 Augusta deciphered them ; they were Avritten on the mar- 
 gin^ beside a circumflex which embraced the last four lines 
 of the second verse, so that it stood thus: 
 
 Oh! sometimes think, when press'd to hear, 1 
 Wlien flippant tongues beset thee. [Dearest, 1 
 
 That all must love thee when thou'rt near, j will. 
 But one will ne'er forget thee! 
 
 " Will you, indeed?" said Augusta, crushing the j)aper 
 in her hand, and biting it; " but I must not destroy it — I 
 must keep it to prove liis treachery to his face." She 
 threw hei-self on the sofa as she spoke, and gave vent to 
 an outpour of spiteful tears. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 How many chapters have been written about love verses 
 — and how many more might be written! — might, would, 
 could, should, or ought to be written I — I will venture to 
 say, will be written I I have a mind to fulfill my own 
 prophecy and write one myself; but no — my story must go 
 on. However, I u'lU say, that it is quite curious in how 
 many ways the same little bit of paper may influence differ-
 
 296 HAXDY ANDY. 
 
 ent people : the poem whose literary merit may be small 
 becomes precious when some valued hand has transcribed 
 the lines; and the verses whose measure and meaning 
 viewed in type might wm favor and yield jaleasure, shoot 
 poison from their very sweetness, when read in some par- 
 ticular hand and under particular circumstances. It was 
 so with the copy of verses Augusta had just read — they 
 were Fanny Dawson's manuscript — that was certain — and 
 foimd in the room of Augusta's lover; therefore Augusta 
 was wretched. But these same lines had given exquisite 
 pleasure to another person, who was now nearly as misera 
 ble as Augusta in having lost them. It is possible the 
 reader guesses that jDerson to be Edward O'Connor, for it 
 was he who had lost the pocket-book in which those (to 
 him) precious lines were contained; and if the little case 
 had held all the bank-notes he ever owned in his life, their 
 loss would have been regarded less than that bit of manu- 
 script, which had often yielded him the most exquisite 
 pleasure, and was now inflicting on Augusta the bitterest 
 anguish. 
 
 To make this intelligible to the reader, it is necessary to 
 explain under what circumstances tlie lines were Avritten. 
 At one time, Edward, doubting the likelihood of making 
 his way at home, was about to go to India and push his 
 fortunes there; and at that period, those lines, breatliing of 
 farewell — implying the dread of rivals during absence — and 
 imploring remembrance of his eternal love, were written 
 and given to Fanny; and she, with that delicacy of contri- 
 vance so peculiarly a woman's, liit upon the expedient of 
 copying his own verses and sending them to him in her 
 writing, as au indication that the spirit of the lines was ' 
 her own. 
 
 But Edward saw that his father, who was advanced m 
 years, looked upon a separation from his son as an eternal 
 one, and the thought gave so much pain, that Edward gave 
 up the idea of expatriation. Shortly after, however, the 
 misunderstanding witli Major Dawson took place, and 
 Fanny and Edward were as much severed as if dwelling in 
 different zones. Under such circumstances, those lines 
 were peculiarly precious, and many a kiss had Edward im- 
 pressed upon them, though Augusta thought them fitter 
 for the exercise of her teeth than her lips. In fact, Ed- 
 ward did little else than think of Fanny; and it is possible
 
 HANDY ANDY. 29? 
 
 his passion might have degenerated into mere love-sick- 
 ness, and enfeebled him, had not his desire of proving him- 
 self worthy of his mistress spurred him to exertion, in the 
 hope of future distinction. But still the tone of tender la- 
 ment pervaded all his poems, and the same pocket-book 
 whence the verses which caused so much commotion fell 
 contained the following also, showing how entirely Fanny 
 possessed his heart and occupied his thoughts: 
 
 WHEN THE SUN SINKS TO REST. 
 
 When the sun sinks to rest. 
 And the star of the west 
 
 Sheds its soft silver light o'er the sea; 
 What sweet thoughts arise, 
 As the dim twilight dies — 
 
 For then I am thinking of theel 
 Oh! then crowding fast 
 Come the joys of the past, 
 
 Through the dimness of days long gone by. 
 Like the stars peeping out. 
 Through the darkness about, 
 
 From the soft silent depth of the sky. 
 
 u. 
 
 And thus, as the night 
 Grows more lovely and bright 
 
 With the clust'ring of planet and star. 
 So this darkness of mine 
 Wins a radiance divine 
 
 From the light that still lingers afar. 
 Then welcome the night. 
 With its soft holy light! 
 
 In its silence my lieart is more free 
 The rude world to forget. 
 Where no pleasure I've met 
 
 Since the hour that 1 parted from thee. 
 
 But we must leave love verses, and ask pardon for the few 
 remarks which the subject tempted, and pursue our story. 
 The first prompting of Augusta's anger, when she had 
 recovered her burst of passion, was to write " such a letter " 
 to Furlong — and she spent half a day at the work; but she 
 could not please herself — she tore ttventy at least, and de- 
 termined, at last, not to write at all, but just wait till he 
 returned and overwhelm him with reproaches. But,
 
 298 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 though she could not compose a letter, she composed her- 
 self by the endeavor, which acted as a sort of safety-value 
 to let off the superabundant steam; and it is wonderful 
 how general is this result of sitting down to write angry 
 letters; people vent themselves of their spleen on the un- 
 complaining paper, which silently receives words a listener 
 would not. With a pen for our second, desperate satisfac- 
 tion is obtained with only an effusion of ink, and when 
 once the pent-up bitterness has oozed out in all the black- 
 ness of that fluid — most appropriately made of the best 
 galls — the time so spent, and the " letting of words,^' if I 
 may use the phrase, has cooled our judgment and our pas- 
 sions together; and the first letter is torn : "tis too severe; 
 we write a second; we blot and interline till it is nearly 
 illegible; we begin a third; till at last we are tired out with 
 our own angry fec^imgs, and throw our scribbling by with 
 a " Pshaw! what's the use of it?'^ or, " It's not worth my 
 notice;" or, still better, arrive at the conclusion, that we 
 preserve our own dignity best by writing with temper, 
 though we may be Called upon to be severe. 
 
 Furlong at this time was on his road to Dublin in hai3py 
 unconsciousness of Augusta's rage against him, and plan- 
 ning what pretty little present he should send her special- 
 ly, for his head was naturally running on such matters, as 
 he had quantities of commiasions to execute in the millinery 
 line for Mrs. 0' Grady, who thought it high time to be get- 
 ting up Augusta's wedding-dresses, and Andy was to be 
 dispatched the following day to Dublin, to take charge of 
 a cargo of band-boxes back from that city to Neck-or-noth- 
 ing Hall. Furlong had received a thousand charges from 
 the ladies, " to be sm-e to lose no time " in doing his devoir 
 in their behalf, and he obeyed so strictly, and w^as so active 
 in laying milliners and mercers under contributions, that 
 Andy was enabled to start the day after his arrival, sorely 
 against Andy's will, for he would gladly have remained 
 amidst the beauty and grandeur and wonders of Dublin, 
 which struck him dumb for the day he was amongst them, 
 but gave him food for conversation for many a day after. 
 Furlong, after racking his invention about the souvenir to 
 his " dear Gussy," at length fixed on a fan, as the most 
 suitable gift; for Gussy had been quizzed at home about 
 "blushing," and all that sort of tiling, and the puerile 
 prceptions of the attache saw something very smart i»
 
 HAIfDT A^^DY. 299 
 
 sending her wherewith ** to hide her blushes.'* Then the 
 fan was the very pink of fans; it had quivers and arrows 
 upon it, and bunches of hearts looped up in azure festoons, 
 and doves perched upon them; though Augusta's little 
 sister, who was too young to know what hearts and doves 
 were, when she saw them for the lirst time, said they were 
 pretty little birds picking at apples. The fan was packed 
 up in a nice case, and then on scented note-paper did the 
 dear dandy indite a bit of namb3'^-paniby badinage to his 
 fair one, which he thought excessively clever: 
 
 << 
 
 Dear Duckt Darling, — You know how naughty 
 they are quizzing you about a little something, / won't say 
 what, you will guess, I dare say — but I send you a little 
 toy, I wo7i't say ivhat, on which Cupid might write tliis 
 label after the doctor's fashion, ' To be used occasionally, 
 when the patient is much troubled with the symptoms.' 
 
 *' Ever, ever, ever yours, J. P. 
 
 P.S. Take care how you open if 
 
 ii 
 
 Such was the note that Handy Andy was given, with 
 particular injunctions to deliver it the first thing on his 
 arrival at the Hall to Miss Augusta, and to be sure to take 
 most particular care of the little case; all which Andy 
 faithfully promised to do. But Andy's usual destiny pre- 
 vailed, and an unfortunate exchange of parcels quite upset 
 all Furlong's sweet little plan of his pretty present and his 
 ingenious note: for as Andy was just taking his departure. 
 Furlong said he might as well leave something for him at 
 Eeade's, the cutler, as he passed through College Green, 
 and he handed him a case of razors which wanted setting, 
 which Andy popped into his pocket, and as the fan case 
 and that of the razors were much of a size, and both folded 
 up, Andy left the fan at the cutler's and took the case of 
 razors by way of present to Augusta. Fancy the rage of a 
 young lady with a very fine pair of mustachios getting such 
 a souvenir from her lover, with a note, too, every word of 
 which applied to a beard and a razor, as patly as to a blush 
 and a fan — and this, too, when her jealousy was aroused 
 and his fidelity more than doubtful in her estimation. 
 
 Great was the row in Neck-or-notliing Hall; and when, 
 after three days. Furlong came down, the nature of his re- 
 ception may be better imagined than described. It was a
 
 800 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 difBcult matter, through the storm which raged around 
 him, to explain all the circumstances satisfactorily, but, bj 
 dint of hard work, the verses were at length disclaimed, 
 the razors disavowed, and Andy at last sent for to " clear 
 matters up/' 
 
 Andy was a hopeful subject for such a purpose, and by 
 his blundering answers nearly set them all by the eara 
 again; the upshot of the affair was, that Andy, used as he 
 was to good scoldings, never had such a torrent of abuse 
 poured on him in his life, and the affair ended in Andy be- 
 ing dismissed from Neck-or-nothing Hall on the instant; 
 80 he relinquished his greasy livery for his own rags again, 
 and trudged homeward to his mother's cabin. 
 
 " She'll be as mad as a hatter with me," said Andy; 
 *' bad luck to them for razhirs, they cut me out o' my 
 place; but I often heard cowld steel is unlucky, and sure 
 I know it now. Oh! but I'm always unfort'nate in hav- 
 ing cruked messages. Well, it can't be helped; and one 
 good thing at all events is, I'll have time enough now to go 
 and spake to Father Blake;" and with this sorry piece of 
 satisfaction poor Andy contented himself. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVni. 
 
 The Father Blake of whom Andy spoke, was more fa- 
 miliarly known by the name of Father Phil, by which title 
 Andy himself would have named him, had he been telling 
 how Father Phil cleared a fair, or equally " leathered " 
 both the belligerent parties in a faction fight, or turned out 
 the contents (or malcontents) of a public-house at an im- 
 proper hour; but when he spoke of his Eeverence respect- 
 mg ghostly matters, the importance of the subject begot 
 higher consideration for the man, and the familiar " Father 
 Phil " was dropped for the more respectful title of Father 
 Blake. By either title, or in whatever capacity, the worthy 
 Father had great influence over his parish, and there was a 
 free-and-easy way with him, even in doing the most solemn 
 duties, which agreed wonderfully with tlie devil-may-care 
 spirit of Paddy. Stiff and starched formality m any way is
 
 HAXDT AXDY. 301 
 
 repugnant to the nature of Irishmen; and I beheve one of 
 the surest ways of converting all Ireland from the Romish 
 faith would be found, if we could only manage to have her 
 mass celebrated with the dry coldness of the Reformation. 
 This may seem ridiculous at first sight, and I grant it is a 
 grotesque way of viewing the subject, but yet there may be 
 truth in it; and to consider it for a moment seriously, look 
 at the fact that the north of Ireland is the stronghold of 
 Protestantism, and that the north is the least Irish portion 
 of the island. There is a strong admixture of Scotch there, 
 and all who know thg country wdll admit that there is 
 nearly as much difference between men from the north and 
 south of Ireland as from different coimtries. The North- 
 erns retain much of the cold formality and unbending 
 hardness of the stranger-settlers from whom they are de- 
 scended, while the Southerns exhibit that warm-hearted, 
 lively, and poetical temperament for which the country ia 
 celebrated. The ])revailing national characteristics of Ire- 
 land are not to be found in the north, where Protestantism 
 flourishes; they are to be found in the south and west, where 
 it has never taken root. And though it has never seemed 
 to strike theologians, that in their very nature some people 
 are more adapted to receive one faith than another, yet I 
 believe it to be true, and perhaps not quite imworthy of 
 consideration. There are forms, it is true, and many in 
 the Romish church, but they are not cold forms, but at- 
 tractive, rather, to a sensitive people; besides, I believe 
 those very forms, when observed the least formally, are the 
 most influential on the Irish; and perhaps the splendors of 
 a High Mass in the gorgeous temple of the Holy City would 
 ap2ieal less to the affections of an Irish peasant than the 
 service he witnesses in some half-thatched ruin by a lone 
 hill-side, familiarly hurried through by a priest who has 
 sharpened his appetite by a mountain ride of some fifteen 
 miles, and is saving mass (for the third time most likely) 
 before breakfast, which consummation of his morning's ex- 
 ercise he is anxious to arrive at. 
 
 It was just in such a chapel, and under such circum- 
 stances, that Father Blake was celebrating the mass at 
 which Andy was present, and after which he hoped to ob- 
 tain a word of advice from the worthy Father, who was 
 much more sought after on such occasions than his more 
 sedate superior who preaided over the spiritual welfare of
 
 302 HAKDY ANDT. 
 
 the parish — and wliose solemn celebration of the mass Avas 
 by no means so agreeable as the lighter service of Father 
 Phil. The Rev. Dominick Dowliug was austere and long- 
 winded; his mass had an oppressive effect on his congrega- 
 tion, and from the kneeling multitude might be seen eyes 
 fearfully looking up from under bent brows ; and low breatli- 
 ings and subdued groans often rose above the silence of his 
 congregation, who felt like sinners, and whose imaginations 
 were filled with the thoughts of Heaven's anger; while the 
 good-humored face of the light-hearted Father Phil pro- 
 duced a corresponding brightness on the looks of his hear- 
 ers, who turned up their whole faces in trustfulness to the 
 mercy of that Heaven whose propitiatory offering their 
 pastor was making for them in cheerful tones, which asso- 
 ciated well with thoughts of pardon and salvation. 
 
 Father Dominick poured forth his spiritual influence 
 like a strong dark stream that swept down the hearer — 
 hopelessly struggling to keep his head above the torrent, 
 and dreading to be overwhelmed at the next word. Father 
 Phil's religion bubbled out like a mountain rill — ^bright, 
 musical, and refreshing. Father Dominick's people had 
 decidedly need of cork jackets; Father PhiFs might drink 
 and be refreshed. 
 
 But with all this intrinsic worth, he was, at the same 
 time, a strange man in exterior manners; for, with an 
 abundance of real piety, he had an abruptness of delivery 
 and a strange way of mixing up an occasional remark to 
 his congregation in the midst of the celebration of the mass, 
 which might well startle a stranger; but this very want of 
 formality made him beloved by the people, and they would 
 do ten times as much for Father PMl as for Father Domi- 
 nick. 
 
 On the Sunday in question, when Andy attended the 
 chapel. Father Phil mtended delivering an address to his 
 flock from the altar, urging them to the necessity of be- 
 stirring themselves in the repairs of the chapel, which was 
 in a very dilapidated condition, and at one end let in the 
 rain through its worn-out thatch. A subscription was 
 necessary; and to raise this among a very impoverished 
 people was no easy matter. The weather happened to be 
 unfavorable, which was most favorable to Father Phil's 
 purpose, for the rain dropped its arguments through the
 
 HANDY ANDY. 30o 
 
 tooi Upon the kneeling people below in tlie most convine 
 ing manner; and as they endeavored to get out of the wet, 
 they pressed round the altar as much as they could, for 
 which they were reproved very smartly by his Rever- 
 ence in the very midst of the mass, and these interruptions 
 occurred sometimes in the most serious places, producing a 
 ludicrous effect, of which the worthy i^'ather was quite un- 
 conscious in his great anxiety to make tlie people repair tlie 
 chapel. 
 
 A big woman was elbowing her way toward the rails of 
 the altar, and Father Phil, casting a sidelong glance at her, 
 sent her to the right-about, while he interrupted his appeal 
 to Heaven to address her thus: 
 
 " Agnus Dei — ^you'd better jump over the rails of the 
 althar, I think! Go along out o' that, there's plenty o' 
 room in the chapel below there." 
 
 Then he would Lurn to the altar, and proceed with the 
 service, till turning again to the congregation he perceived 
 some fresh offender. 
 
 '■'■ Orate, f nitres! — will you mind what I say to you and 
 go along out of that? there's room below there. Thrue 
 for you, Mrs. Finn — it's a shame for him to be thramplin' 
 on you. Go along. Darby Casy, down there, and kneel in 
 the rain; it's a pity you haven't a daceut woman's cloak 
 undlier you indeed! — Orate, fr air est" 
 
 Then would the service proceed again, and while he 
 prayed in silence at the altar, the shufflmg of feet edging 
 out of the rain wotdd disturb him, and casting a backward 
 glance, he would say: 
 
 *' I hear you there — can't you be quiet and not be dis- 
 turbing the mass, you haythens?" 
 
 Again he proceeded in silence, till the crying of a child 
 interrupted him. He looked round quickly. 
 
 " You'd better kill the child, I think, tramplin' on him, 
 Lavery. Go out o' that — your conduct is scandalous — 
 Domi)ius voMscnni!" 
 
 Again he turned to pray, and after some time be made 
 an interval in the service to address his congregation on 
 the subject of the repairs, and produced a paper containing 
 i;he names of subscribers to that pious work who had 
 already contributed, by way of example to those who had 
 not.
 
 HOi HANDY AKDY. 
 
 ** Here it is," said Father Phil, ''here it is, and no 
 denying it — down in black and white; but if they who give 
 are down in black, how much blacker are those who have 
 not given at all! but I hope the}' will be ashamed of them- 
 selves when I howld up those to honor who have con- 
 tributed to the uphowlding of the house of God. And 
 isn't it ashamed o' yourselves you ought to be, to leave His 
 house in such a condition — and doesn't it rain a'most every 
 Sunday, as if He wished to remind you of your duty? 
 aren't you wet to the skin a'most every Sunday? Oh, God 
 is good to you! to put you in mind of your duty, giving 
 you such bitther coulds that you are coughing and sneezin' 
 every Sunday to that degree that you can't hear the 
 blessed mass for a comfort and a benefit to you; and so 
 you'll go on sneezin' until you put a good thatch on the 
 place, and prevent the appearance of the evidence from 
 Heaven against you every Sunday, which is condemning 
 you before your faces, and behind your backs too, for 
 don't I see this minit a strame o' wather that might turn 
 a mill running down Micky Mackavoy's back, between the 
 collar of his coat and his shirt?" 
 
 Here a laugh ensued at the expense of Micky Mackavoy, 
 who certainly was under a very heavy drip from the im- 
 perfect roof. 
 
 ''And is it laughing you are, you haythens?" said 
 Father Phil, reproving the merriment which he himself 
 had pui'posely created, f/iai he might reprove it. " Laugh- 
 ing is it you are — at your baokslidings and insensibility to 
 the honor of God — laughing, because when you come here 
 to be saved you are lost iutirely Avith tlie wet; and how, I 
 ask you, are my words of comfort to enter your hearts, 
 when the rain is pouring down your backs at the same 
 time? Sure I have no chance of turning your hearts while 
 you are undher rain that might turn a mill — but once put 
 a good roof on the house, and I will inundate you with 
 piety! May be it's Father Dominick you woidd hke to have 
 coming among you, who would grind your hearts to 
 powdher with his heavy words." (Here a low murmur of 
 dissent ran through the throng.) "Ha! ha! so you 
 wouldn't like it, I see. Very well, very well — take care 
 then, for if I find you insensible to my moderate reproofs, 
 you hard-hearted haythens — you malefacthors ai:'^ nruftl 
 persecuthors, that won't put your hands in your pociiets,
 
 HAITDT AKDT. 306 
 
 becanpe your mild and quiefc poor fool of a pasthor has no 
 tongue in his head I I say your mild, quiet, poor fool of 
 a pasthor (for I know my own faults, partly, God forgive 
 mo!), and I can't spake to you as you deserve, you hard- 
 living vagabones, that are as insensible to your duties as 
 you are to the weather. I wish it was sugar or salt you 
 were made of, and then the rain might melt you if I 
 couldn't: but no — them naked rafters grin ua your face to 
 no purpose — you chate the house of God; but take care, 
 may be you won't chate the divU so aisy " — (here there was 
 a sensation). *'HaI ha! that makes you open your ears, 
 does it? More shame for you; you ought to despise that 
 dirty enemy of man, and depend on something betther — 
 but I see I must call you to a sense of your situation with 
 the bottomless pit under you, and no roof over you. 
 Oh, dear! dear! dear! I'm ashamed of you — troth, if I had 
 time and sthraw enough, I'd rather thatch the place myself 
 than lose any time talking to you; sure the place is more 
 like a stable than a chapel. Oh, tliink of that! the house 
 of God to be like a stable! for though our Redeemer, in his 
 humility, was bom ia a stable, that is no reason why you 
 are to keep his house always like one. 
 
 '' And now I will read you the list of subscribers, and it 
 will make you ashamed when you hear the names of sever- 
 al good and worthy Protestants in the parish, and out of 
 it, too, who have given more than the Catholics." 
 
 He then proceeded to read the following list, which he 
 interlarded copiously with observations of his own ; making 
 vivd voce marginal notes as it were upon the subscribers, 
 which were not unfrequently answered by the persons so 
 noticed, from the body of the chapel, and laughter was 
 often the consequence of these rejoinders, which Father 
 Phil never permitted to pass without a retort. Nor must 
 all this be considered m the least irreverent. A certain 
 period is allowed between two particular portions of the 
 mass, when the priest may address his congregation on any 
 public matter; an approaching pattern, or fair, or the like; 
 in which, exhortations to propriety of conduct, or warnings 
 against faction fights, etc., are his themes. Then they 
 only listen in reverence. But when a subscription for such 
 an object as that already mentioned is under discussion, 
 the flock consider themselves entitled to " put in a word 
 in case of necessity.
 
 306 EAKDY AUBY, 
 
 This preliminary hint is given to the reader, that he may 
 better enter into the spirit of Father Phil's 
 
 SUBSCRIPTION LIST 
 
 FOB THE REPAIE8 AND ENLARGEMENT OF BALLTSLOUGH- 
 
 GUTTHEEY CHAPEL. 
 
 ^^^ Phtltp Blake, P.P. 
 
 Micky Hicky.. 7 6 "He might as Well have made ten shil- 
 hngs: but half a loaf is better than no 
 bread." 
 
 *' Plase your reverence, ** says Mick, from 
 the body of the chapel, " sure seven and 
 sixpence is more than the half of ten shil- 
 lings." {A laugh.) 
 
 "Oh! how witty you are. Faith, if you 
 knew your duty as well as your arithmetic, 
 it would be betther for you, Micky." 
 
 Here the Father turned the laugh 
 against Mick. 
 Bfliy Riley.. .0 8 4 " Qf course he means to subscribe 
 
 again." 
 johnDwyer... 015 «' That's Something like! I'll be boimd 
 he's only keeping back the odd five shil- 
 lings for a brush full o' paint for the al- 
 thar; it's as black as a crow, instead of 
 being as white as a dove." 
 
 He then hurried over rapidly some 
 small subscribers as follows: 
 
 Peter HeflfemanO 1 8 
 
 James Murphy 2 6 
 Mat Donovan ..013 
 Luke Dannely.. 3 
 Jack Quigly... 2 1 
 PetFinneKan.. 2 2 
 Edward O'Con- 
 nor, Saq 2 
 
 ''There's for you! Edwg,rd O'Connor, 
 Jlsq., a Protestant in the j^arish — Two 
 pounds!" 
 
 " Long life to him," cried a Toioe in the 
 chapel. 
 
 "Amen," said Father Phil; "I'm not 
 lisbamed to be clerk to so good » prayer,"
 
 HANDY AXBT. 307 
 
 vjchoias Fagan 3 R '<• Yoimg Nick is better than o^vlfl Nick, 
 
 YonnK Nicholas :>y° 
 
 ragan 5 yOU 886. 
 
 The congregation honored the Father s 
 demand on their risibility. 
 
 Tim Doyle 07 6 <MYell done, Ownv na Coppal — vou 
 
 owny Doyle... 1 ^^^^^^^ ^^ prosper, for you make good 
 
 use of your thrivings. •" 
 Simon i.eary.. 2 6 " You ought to be ashamed o' yourself, 
 Bridget Murphy 010 gimon: a lone widow woman gives more 
 than you." 
 
 Siruon answered, " I have a large fam- 
 ,u '^ sir, and she has no childhre." 
 
 • That's not her fault," said the priest 
 - -' and maybe shell mend o' that yet. " 
 This excited much merriment, for the 
 widow was buxom, and had recently bur- 
 ied an old husband, and, by all accounts, 
 was cocking her cap at a handsome yoimg 
 fellow in the parish. 
 
 f ^ w 1 - A R A " Very good, Judy: the women are be- 
 Judy Moylan.. 8 0, ,•/,=> '^ -^ ' .i ,n , ,-, • 
 
 having like gentlemen; they 11 have their 
 
 reward in the next world. " 
 
 Pat FinBwty.. 8 4 ** I'm not sure if it is 8s. 4d. or 3s. 4d., 
 
 for the figure is blotted — but I believe it 
 
 is 8s. 4d." 
 
 *' It was three and fourpince I gave 
 your reverence," said Pat from the crowd. 
 
 " Well, Pat, as I said eight and four- 
 pence you must not let me go back o' my 
 word, "so bring me five shillings next 
 week." 
 
 *' Sure you wouldn't have me pay for a 
 blot, sir?" 
 
 *' Yes, I would — that's the rule of back- 
 gammon, you know, Pat. When I hit 
 the blot, you pay for it." 
 
 Here his reverence turned round, as if 
 looking for some one, and called out, 
 "Eafferty! Rafferty! Ptafferty! W^hereare 
 you, Kafferty?" 
 
 iai old gray-headed mm. appared,,
 
 308 HANDT ANDT. 
 
 **• "^' bearing a large plate, and Father Phil 
 continued — 
 
 *' There now, be active — I'm Bending 
 him among you, good people, and such as 
 can not give as much as you would like 
 to be reaxl before your neighbors, give 
 "what httle you can toward the repairs, 
 and I will continue to read out the names 
 by way of encouragement to you, and the 
 next name I see is that of Squire Egan. 
 Long life to him! 
 
 <5quir« Eran. 6 « Squire P^gan — ^five ponnds — listen to 
 that — five pounds — a Protestant in the 
 varisJi — five pounds! Faith, the Prot- 
 estants will make you ashamed of your- 
 selves, if we don't take care. 
 
 Mr,. Flanagan. 2 0, "' ^^^ ^^^ <>^^ P^i^^^ either— a kind 
 
 lady. 
 James Miiiigan ''And here I must remark that the 
 
 towa?"^^.... 10 people of Roundtown have not been back- 
 ward in coming forward on this occasion. 
 I have a long list from Roundtown — I 
 will read it separate." He then j^roceeded 
 at a great pace, jumbling the town and 
 the pounds and the people in a most 
 extraordinary manner; *' James Milligan 
 of Roundtown, one pound; Darby Daly of 
 Roundtown, one pound; SamFinnigan of 
 Roundtown, one pound; James Casey of 
 Roundpound, one town; Kit Dwyer of 
 Townpound, one round — pound I mane; 
 Pat Roundpound — Pounden, I mane — Pat 
 Pounden a pound of Poundtown also — 
 there's an example for you! — but what 
 are you about, Rafferty? I don't like the 
 sound of that plate of yours; — ^you are 
 not a good gleaner — go up first into the 
 gallery there, where I see so many good- 
 looking bonnets — I suppose they will give 
 something to keep their bonnets out of 
 the rain, for the wet will be into the 
 gallery next Sunday if they don't. I think 
 that is Kitty Crow I see, getting her bit
 
 HANDY ANDY. -^OO 
 
 * ■• d- of silver ready; them ribbons of yours cost 
 a trifle, -Kitty. Well, good Christians, 
 here is more of the subscription for you. 
 MatthewLoveryO 8 6 "He doesn't belong to Roundto'wn — 
 Eoundto'WTi will be renowned in future 
 ages for the support of the Church. Mark 
 my words — Eoundtown will prosper from 
 this day out — Eoundtown will be a rising 
 place. 
 MarkHennessy 2 6 ''One would think they all agreed to 
 johu DoSv. I 6 give two and sixpence apiece. And look 
 at then- names — Matthew, Mark, Luke, 
 and John, the names of the Blessed 
 Evangelists, and only ten shillings among 
 them! Oh, they are apostles not worthy 
 of the name — we'll call them the Poor 
 Apostles from this out" (here a low 
 laugh ran through the chapel) — " Do you 
 hear that, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and 
 John? Faith! I can tell you that name 
 will stick to you.'' (Here the laugh was 
 louder. ) 
 
 A voice, when the laugh subsided, ex- 
 claimed, " 111 make it ten shillin's, your 
 reverence. " 
 
 " Who's that?" said Father Pliil. 
 
 ** Hennessy, your reverence. " 
 
 '' Very well, Mark. I suppose Matthew, 
 Luke, and John will follow your exam- 
 ple?" 
 
 " We will, your reverence. " 
 
 " A)i\ I thought you made a mistake; 
 •we'll call you now the Faithful Apostles 
 — and I think the change in the name is 
 betther than seven and sixpence apiece to 
 you. 
 
 ** I see you in the gallei-y there, Eaffer- 
 ty. What do you pass that well-dressed 
 woman for? — thry back — ha! — see that — 
 she had her money ready if you only 
 asked for it — don't go by that other 
 woman there — oh, oh! — So you won't 
 give anything, ma'am? You ought to be
 
 310 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 * ■• ^- ashamed of yourself. There is a woman 
 with an elegant sthraw bonnet, and she 
 won't give a farthing. Well, now — af ther 
 that — remember — I give it from the al- 
 thar, thsitfrom this day out sthraw hon- 
 nets pay p.' yennxi pieces. 
 Thomas Darfy ''It's liot his parish and he's a brare 
 
 Esq 100 ,, ^ 
 
 gentleman. 
 M^s^sFannyDaw- ^ ^ "^4 Protestaut out of the parish, and 
 
 a sweet young lady, God bless her! Oh, 
 
 faith, the Protestants are shaming you! ! ! 
 Dennis Fannin. 7 6 ''Very good, indeed, for a working 
 
 mason. 
 Jemmy Bieiy.. 5 "Not bad, for a liedge-carpenter. " 
 
 "I gave you ten, plaze your rever- 
 ence," shouted Jemmy, "and by the 
 same token, you may remember it was on 
 the Nativity of the Blessed Vargin, sir, I 
 gave you tlie second five shillin's." 
 
 " So you did. Jemmy," cried Father 
 Phil—" I put a little cross before it, to 
 remind me of it; but I was in a hurry to 
 make a sick-call when you gave it to me, 
 and forgot it afther: and indeed myself 
 doesn't know Avhat I did with that same 
 five shillings." 
 
 Here a pallid woman, who was kneel- 
 ing near the rails of the altar, uttered 
 an impassioned blessing, and exclaimed, 
 " Oh, that was the very five shillings, I'm 
 sure, you gave to me that very day, to buy 
 some little comforts for my poor husband, 
 who was dying in the fever!" and the 
 poor woman burst into loud sobs as she 
 spoke. 
 
 A aeep thrill of emotion ran through the flock as this 
 accidental proof of their poor pastor's beneficence burst 
 upon them; and as an affectionate murmur began to rise 
 above the silence which that emotion produced, the burly 
 Father PhilijD blushed like a girl at this publication of his 
 charity, and even at the foot of that altar where he stood, 
 felt something like shame at being discovered in the com-
 
 HAKDT ANDT. 311 
 
 mission of that virtue so highly commended by the Holy 
 One to whose worship the altar was raised. He uttered a 
 hasty " Whisht — whisht!" and waved with his outstretched 
 hands his flock into silence. 
 
 In an instant one of those sudden changes common to an 
 Irish assembly, and scarcely credible to a stranger, took 
 place. The multitude was hushed — the grotesque of the 
 subscription list had passed away and was forgotten, and 
 that same man and that same multitude stood in altered 
 relations — tltey were again a reverent flock, and he once 
 more a solemn pastor; the natural play of his nation's 
 mirthful sarcasm was absorbed in a moment in the sacred- 
 ness of his office : and with a solemnity befitting the highest 
 occasion, he placed his hands together before his breast, and 
 raising his eyes to Heaven he poured forth his sweet voice, 
 with a tone of the deepest devotion, in that reverential call 
 to prayer, ^' Orate fratrea." 
 
 The sound of a multitude gently kneeling down followed, 
 like the soft breaking of a quiet sea on a sandy beach; and 
 when Father Philip turned to the altar to pray, his pent- 
 up feelings found vent in tears; and while he prayed, he 
 wept. 
 
 I believe such scenes as this are not of unfrequent oc- 
 currence in Ireland; that country so long-suffering, so 
 much maligned and so little understood. 
 
 Suppose the foregoing scene to have been only described 
 antecedent to the woman in the outbreak of her gratitude 
 revealing the priest's charity, from which he recoiled—' 
 suppose the mirthfulness of the incidents arising from 
 reading the subscription list — a mirthfulness bordering on 
 the ludicrous — to have been recorded, and nothing more, 
 a stranger would be inclined to believe, and pardonable in 
 the belief, that the Irish and their priesthood were rather 
 prone to be irreverent; but observe, under this exterior, 
 the deep sources of feeling that lie hidden and wait but the 
 wand of divination to be revealed. In a thousand similar 
 ways are the actions and the motives of the Irish un- 
 derstood by those who are careless of them; or worse, mis- 
 represented by those whose interest, and too often business, 
 it is to maligp them. 
 
 Father Phil could proceed no further with the reading of 
 the subscription list, but finished the office of the mass 
 with unusual solemnity. But if the incident just recorded
 
 312 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 abridged his address, and the publication of donors' names 
 by way of stimulus to the less active, it produced a great 
 eil'ect on those who had but smaller donations to drop in 
 the plate; and the gray-headed collector, who could have 
 numbered the scanty coin before the bereaved widow had 
 revealed the pastor's charity, had to struggle his way after- 
 ward through the eagerly outstretched hands that shower- 
 ed their hard-earned pence upon the plate, which was borne 
 back to the altar heaped with contributions, heaped as it 
 had not been seen for many a day. The studied excitement 
 of their pride and their shame — and both are active agents 
 in the Irish nature — was less successful than the accidental 
 appeal to their affections. 
 
 Oh ! rulers of Ireland, why have you not sooner learned 
 to lead that people by love, whom all your severity has 
 been unable to drive ?* 
 
 When the mass was over, Andy waited at the door of the 
 chapel to catch ''his riverence " coming out, and obtain 
 his advice about what he overheard from Larry Hogan; 
 and Father Phil was accordingly accosted by Andy just as 
 he was going to get into his saddle to ride over to breakfast 
 with one of the neighboring farmers, who was holding the 
 priest's stirrup at the moment. The extreme urgency of 
 Andy's manner, as he pressed up to the pastor's side, made 
 the latter pause and inquire what he wanted. 
 
 "I want to get some advice from your riverence," said 
 Andy. 
 
 " Faith, then, the advice I give you is never to stop a 
 hungry man when he is going to refresh himself," said 
 Father Phil, who had quite recovered his usual cheerful- 
 ness, and threw his leg over his little gray hack as he spoke. 
 " How could you be so unreasonable as to expect me to 
 stop here listening to your case, and giving you advice in- 
 deed, when I have said three massesf this morning, and 
 rode three miles; how could you be so unreasonable, Isay?" 
 
 " I ax your riverence's pardon," said Andy; " I wonldn'c 
 have taken the liberty, only the thing is mighty particular 
 intirely." 
 
 * When this passage was written Ireland was disturbed (as she 
 has too often been) by special parliamentary provocation; — the 
 vexatious vi^lance of legislative lynxes — the pcevishaess of paltry 
 persecutors. 
 
 f TJie office of the mass must be performed fasting.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 313 
 
 ** Well, I tell you again, never ask a hungry man's advice; 
 for he is likely to cut his advice on the patthern of hi? 
 stomach, and it's empty advice you'll get. Did you never 
 hear that a ' hungry stomach has no ears '?" 
 
 The farmer who was to have the honor of the priest's 
 company to breakfast exhibited rather more impatience 
 than the good-liumored Father Phil, and reproved Andy 
 for his conduct, 
 
 " But it's so particular," said Andy. 
 
 " I wondher you would dar' to stop his riverence, and he 
 black fastin'. Go 'long wid you!" 
 
 "' Come over to my house in the course of the week, and 
 speak to me," said Father Phil, riding away. 
 
 Andy still persevered, and taking advantage of the ab- 
 sence of the farmer, who was mounting his own nag at the 
 moment, said the matter of which he wished to sj)eak in- 
 volved the interests of Squire Egan, or he would not " make 
 so bowld." 
 
 This altered the matter; and Father Phil desired Andy 
 to follow him to the farm-house of John Dwyer, where he 
 would speak to him after he had breakfasted. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 JoHJS" Dwter's house was a scene of activity that day, 
 for not only was the priest to breakfast there — always an 
 affair of honor — but a grand dinner was also preparing on 
 a large scale; for a wedding-feast was to be held in the 
 house, in honor of Matty Dwyer's nuptials, which were to 
 be celebrated that day with a neighboring young farmer, 
 rather well-to-do in the world. The match had been on 
 and off for some time, for John Dwyer was what is commonly 
 called a " close-fisted fellow," and his would-be son-in-law 
 could not bring him to what he considered proper terms, 
 and though Matty liked young Casey, and he was fond of 
 her, they both agreed not to let old Jack Dwyer have the 
 best of the bargain in portioning off his daughter, who, 
 having a spice of her father in her, was ji^t as fond of 
 number one as old Jack himself. And here it is worthy of 
 remark, that, though the Irish are so prone in general to 
 early and improvident marriages, no people are closer in 
 their nuptial barter, when they are in a condition to make
 
 314 HANDY ANDY 
 
 marriage a profitable contract. Eepeated meetings between 
 the elders of families take place, and acute arguments en- 
 SUC; properly to equalize the worldly goods to be given on 
 both sides. Pots and pans are balanced against pails and 
 churns, cows against horses, a slip of bog against a gravel- 
 
 f)it, or a patch of meadow against a pit of quarry; a little 
 irae-kiln sometimes burns stronger than the llauie of Cupid 
 — the doves of Venus herself are but crows in comparison 
 with a good fiock of geese — and a love-sick sigh less touch- 
 ing than the healthy grunt o,^ a good pig; indeed the last- 
 named gentleman is a most useful agent in this traffic, for 
 when matters are nearly poised, the balance is often ad- 
 justed by a grunter or two thrown into either scale. While 
 matters are thus in a state of debate, quarrels sometimes 
 occur between the lovers: the gentleman's caution some- 
 times takes alarm, and more frequently the lady's pride is 
 aroused at the two obvious preference given to worldly gain 
 over heavenly beauty; Cupid shies at Mammon, and Hymen 
 is upset and left in the mire. 
 
 I remember hearuig of an instance of this nature, when 
 the lady gave her ci-devant lover an ingenious reproof, 
 after they had been separated some time, when a marriage- 
 bargain was broken off, because the lover could not obtain 
 from the girl's father a certain brown filly as part of her 
 dowry. The damsel, after tlie lapse of some weeks, met 
 her swain at a neighboring fair, and the flame of love still 
 smoldering in his heart was reillumined by the sight of his 
 charmer, who, on the contrary, had become qiute disgusted 
 witli him for his too obvious preference of profit to true 
 affection. He addressed her softly m a tent, and asked her 
 to dance, but was most astonished at her returning him a 
 look of vacant wonder, which tacitly impUed, " Who are 
 you ?" as plain as looks could speak. 
 
 '^ Arrah, Mary,"' exclaimed the youth. 
 
 " Sir ! ! ! — answered Mary, with what heroines call ''in- 
 effable disdain." 
 
 ''Why one would think you didn't know me!" 
 
 " If I ever had the honor of your acquaintance, sir," an- 
 swered Mary, " I forget you entirely." 
 
 "Forget me, Mary? — arrah be aisy — is it to forget the 
 man that was courtin' and in love with you?" 
 
 "You're under a mistake, young man," said Mary, with 
 a curl of her rosy lip, which displayed the pearly teeth to
 
 HANDY AKDT. 31d 
 
 whose beauty her woman's iiature rejoiced that the recreant 
 lover was not insensible — " You're under a mistake, young 
 man," and her heightened color made her eye flash more 
 brightly as she sjioke — "'you're quite under a mistake — no 
 one was not ever in love with vie ;" and she laid signal em- 
 phasis on the word. "' There was a dirty mane blackguard, 
 indeed, once in love ivitli my father's broivn filly, but I 
 forget him entirely." 
 
 Mary tossed her head proudly as she spoke, and her filly- 
 fancying admirer, reeling under the reproof she inflicted, 
 sneaked from the tent, while Mary stood up and danced 
 with a more open-hearted lover, whose earnest eye could 
 see more charms in one lovely woman than all the horses 
 of Arabia. 
 
 But no such result as this was likely to take place in 
 Matty Dwyer's case; slie and her lover agreed with one 
 another on the settlement to be made, and old Jack was 
 not to be allowed an inch over what was considered an even 
 bargain. At length all matters were agreed upon, the 
 wedding-day fixed, and the guests invited; yet still boih 
 parties were not satisfied, but young Casey thought he 
 should be put into absolute possession of a certain little 
 farm and cottage, and have the lease looked over to sea 
 all was right (for Jack Dwyer was considered rather slip- 
 pery), while old Jack thought it time enough to give him 
 po^ession and the lease and his daughter altogether. 
 
 However, matters had gone so far that, as the reader has 
 seen, the wedding-feast Avas prepared, the guests invited, 
 and Father Phil on the spot to help James and Matty (in 
 the facetious parlance of Paddy) to " tie with their tongues 
 what they could not undo with their teeth." 
 
 When the priest had done breakfast, the arrival of Andy 
 was announced to him, and Andy was admitted to a pri- 
 vate audience with Father Phil, the particulars of which 
 must not be disclosed; for, in short, Andy made a reg- 
 ular confession before the Father, and, we know, confes- 
 sions must be held sacred; but we may say that Andy con- 
 fided the whole post-oflftce afl'air to the pastor — told him 
 how Harry Logan had contrived to w^orm that affair out of 
 him, and by his devilish artifice had, as Andy feared, oon- 
 trived to implicate Squire Egan in the transaction, and,- by 
 threatening a disclosure, got the worthy squire into nis 
 KJUainous power. Andy, under the solemn queries pf the
 
 316 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 priest, positively denied having said one word to Hogan to 
 criminate the Squire, and that Hogan could only infer the 
 Squire's guilt; upon which Father Phil, having satisfied 
 himself, told Andy to make his mind easy, for that he 
 would secure the Squire from any harm, and he moreover 
 praised Andy for the fidelity he displayed to the interests 
 of his old master, and declared he was so pleased w ith him, 
 that he would desire Jack Dwj-er to ask him to dinner. 
 " And that will be no blind nut, let me tell you," said 
 Father Phil — '' a Avedding-dinner, you lucky dog — 'lash- 
 ings* and lavings,' and no end of dancing afther!" 
 
 Andy was accordingly bidden to the bridal feast, to which 
 the guests began already to gather thick and fast. They 
 strolled about the field before the house, basked in groups 
 in the sunshine, or lay in the shade under the hedges, 
 where hints of future marriages were given to many a 
 pretty girl, and to nudges and pinches were returned small 
 screams suggestive of additional assault — and inviting de- 
 nials of "Indeed I won't," and that crowning provocative 
 to riotous conduct, ''Behave yourself." 
 
 In the meantime, the barn was laid out with long planks, 
 su])ported on barrels or big stones, which planks, when 
 covered with clean cloths, made a goodly board, that soon 
 began to be covered with ample wooden dishes of corned 
 beef, roasted geese, boiled chickens and bacon, and inter- 
 mediate stacks of cabbage and huge bowls of potatoes, all 
 sending up their wreaths of smoke to the rafters of the 
 barn, soon to become hotter from the crowed of guests, Avho, 
 when the word was given, rushed to the onslaught with 
 right good will. 
 
 The dinner was later than the hour named, and the de- 
 lay arose from the absence of one who, of all others, ought 
 to have been present, namely, the bridegroom. But James 
 Casey was missing, and Jack Dwyer had been closeted 
 from time to time with several long-headed graybeards, can- 
 vassing the occurrence, and wandering at the default on 
 the bridegroom's part. The person who might have been 
 supposed to bear this default the worst supported it better 
 than any one. Matty was all life and sjDirits, and helped 
 in making the feast ready, as if nothing w^rong had liap- 
 pened; and she backed Father Phil's argument to sit down 
 
 ♦ Overflowing abundance, and plenty left after.
 
 HANDY AXDY. 317 
 
 to dinner at once; — "that if James Casey was not there, 
 that was no reason dinner should be spoiled, he'd be there 
 soon enough; besides, if he didn^t arrive in time, it was 
 better he should have good meat cold, than everybody have 
 hot meat spoiled: the ducks would be done to eindhers, 
 the beef boiled to rags, and the cliicken be all in jom- 
 methry. " 
 
 So doAvn they sat to dinner: its heat, its mirth, its clatter, 
 and its good cheer we will not attempt to describe; suffice 
 it to say, the viands were good, the guests hungry, and the 
 drink unexceptionable; and Father Phil, no bad judge of 
 such matters, declared he never pronounced grace over a 
 better spread. But still, in the midst of the good cheer, 
 neighbors (the women particidarly) would suggest to each 
 other the '' woudher " where the bridegroom could be: 
 and even within ear-shot of the bride-elect, the low-voiced 
 whisper ran, of " Where in the world is James Casey?" 
 
 Still the bride kept up her smiles, and cheerfully returned 
 the healths that were drunk to her; but old Jack was not 
 unmoved; a cloud hung on his brow, which grew darker 
 and darker as the hour advanced, and the bridegroom yet 
 tarried. The board was cleared of the eatables, and the 
 copious jugs of punch going their round; but the usual 
 toast of the united healths of the happy pair could not be 
 given, for one of them was absent. Father Phil hardly 
 knew what to do; for even his overflowing cheerfulness 
 began to forsake him, and a certain air of embarrassment 
 began to pervade the whole assembly, till Jack Dwyer 
 could bear it no longer, and, standing up, he thus addressed 
 the company: 
 
 '' Friends and neighbors, you see the disgrace that's put 
 on me and my child. " 
 
 A murmur of '' No, no!" ran round the board. 
 
 "I say, yis." 
 
 " He'il come yet, sir," said a voice. 
 
 "No, he won't," said Jack, " I see he won't — I know he 
 won't. He wanted to have everything all his own way, and 
 he thinks to disgrace me in doing what he likes, but he 
 sh'an't;" and he struck the table fiercely as he spoke; for 
 Jack, when once his blood was up, w'as a man of desparate 
 determination. " He's a greedy chap, the same James Casey, 
 and he loves his bargain betther than he loves you, Matty, 
 so don't look glum about what I'm saying: I say he's
 
 318 HAKDY ANDT. 
 
 greedy: he's just the fellow that, if you gave him the roof 
 off your house, would ax you for the rails before your door- 
 and he goes back of his bargain now, bekase I would not 
 let him have it all his own way, and puts the disgrace on 
 me, thinkin' I'll give in to him, through that same; but 1 
 won't. And I tell you what it is, friends and neighbors: 
 here's the lease of the three-cornered field below there," 
 and he held up a parchment as he spoke, '''and a suug 
 cottage on it, and it's all ready for the girl to walk into 
 with the man that will have her; and if there's a man 
 among you here that's willing, let him say the word now, 
 and I'll give her to him!" 
 
 The girl could not resist an exclamation of surprise, which 
 her father hushed by a word and look so peremptory, that 
 she saw remonstrance was in vain, and a silence of some 
 moments ensued; for it was rather startling, this immedi- 
 ate offer of a girl who had been so strangely slighted, and 
 the men were not quite prepared to make advances, imtil 
 they knew something more of the why and wlierefore of her 
 sweetheart's desertion. 
 
 " Are yiz all dumb?" exclaimed Jack, in surprise. 
 ^'Faix, it's not every day a snug little tieid and cottage and 
 a good-looking girl falls in a man's way. I say again, I'll 
 give her and the lase to the man that will say the word." 
 
 Still no one spoke, and Andy began to think they were 
 using Jack Dwyer and his daughter very ill, but what busi- 
 ness had lie to think of offering himself, " ix poor devil like 
 him?" But, the silence still continuing, Andy took heart 
 of grace; and as the profit and pleasure of a snug matcli 
 and a handsome wife flashed upon him^ he got up and said, 
 " Would I do, sir?" 
 
 Every one was taken by surprise, even old Jack himself; 
 and Matty could not suppress a faint exclamation, which 
 svery one but Andy understood to mean " she didn't like 
 it at all," but which Andy interpreted quite the other way, 
 and he grinned his loutish admiration of Matty, Avho turned 
 away her head from him in sheer distaste, which action 
 Andy took for mere coyness. 
 
 Jack was in a dilemma, for Andy was just the last man 
 he would have chosen as a husband for his daughter; but 
 what could he do? he was taken at his word, and even at 
 the worst he was determined tliat some one should marry 
 the girl out of hand, and show Casey the "disgrace should
 
 HAXDY A^ri)T. 319 
 
 not be put on him:" but., anxious to have another chance, 
 he stammered something about the fairness of "letting the 
 girl choose," and that '*' some one else might wish to spake;" 
 but the end of all was, that no one rose to rival Andy, and 
 Father Phil bore witness to the satisfaction he had that day 
 m finding so much uprightness and fidelity in "the boy;" 
 that he had raised his character much in his estimation by 
 his conduct that day; and if he was a little giddy betimes, 
 there was nothmg like a wife to steady him ; and if he was 
 rather poor, sure Jack Dwyer could mend that. 
 
 "Then come up here,"' says Jack; and Andy left his 
 place at the very end of the board and marched up to the 
 head, amidst clapping of hands and thumping of the table, 
 and laughing and shouting. . 
 
 "Silence!" cried Father Phil, "this is no laughing mat- 
 ther, but a serious engagement — and, John Dwyer, 1 tell 
 you — and you Andy Rooney, that girl must not be mar- 
 ried against her own free-Vill; but if she has no objec- 
 tion, well and good." 
 
 " My will is her pleasure, I know," said Jack resolutely. 
 
 To the surprise of every one, Matty said, " Oh, I'll take 
 the boy with all my heai-t!" 
 
 Handy Andy threw his arms round her neck and gave 
 her a most vigorous salute which came smacking olf, and 
 thereupon arose a hilarious shout wliich made the old 
 rafters of the barn ring again. 
 
 "There's the lase for you," said Jack, handing the 
 parchment to Andy, who was now installed in the place 
 of honor beside the*^ bride-elect at the head of the table, 
 and the punch circulated rapidly in filling to the double 
 toast of health, happiness, and prosperity to the "'happy 
 pair;" and after some few more circuits of the enlivening 
 liquor had been performed, the women retired to the 
 dwelling-house, whose sanded parlor was put in immediate 
 readiness for the celebration of the nuptial knot between 
 Matty and the adventurous Andy. 
 
 In half an hour the ceremony was performed, and the 
 rites and blessings of the Church dispensed between two 
 people, who, an hour before, had never looked on each 
 other with thoughts of matrimony. 
 
 Under such circumstances it was wonderful with what 
 lightness of spirit Matty went through the honors conse- 
 quent on a peasant bridal in Ireland : these, it is needless
 
 320 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 to detail; our limits would not permit; but suflfice it to 
 say, that a rattling country-dance was led off by Andy 
 and Matty in the barn, intermediate jigs were indulged in 
 by the " picked dancers" of the parish, while the country 
 dancers were resting and making love (if making love can 
 be called rest') in the corners, and that the pipers and 
 punch-makers had quite enough to do until the night was 
 far spent, and it was considered time for the bride and 
 bridegroom to be escorted by a chosen party of friends to 
 the little cottage which was to be their future home. The 
 pipers stood at the threshold of Jack Dwyer, and his 
 daughter departed from under the " roof -tree " to the tune 
 of *^ Joy be with you;" and then the lilters, heading the 
 body-guard of the bride, plied drone and chanter right 
 merrily until she had entered her new home, thanked her 
 old friends (who did all the established civilities, and 
 cracked all the usual jokes attendant on the occasion) ; and 
 Andy bolted the door of the snug cottage of which he had 
 so suddenly become master, and placed a seat for the bride 
 beside the fire, requesting " Miss Divyer " to sit down — 
 for Andy could not bring himself to call her " Matty "yet 
 — and found himself in an awkward position in being 
 " lord and master " of a girl he considered so far above 
 him a few hours before; Matty sat quiet, and looked at 
 the fire. 
 
 " It's very quare, isn't it?" says Andy with a grin, look- 
 ing at her tenderly, and twiddling his thumbs. 
 
 " What's quare?" inquired Matty, very dryly. 
 
 " The estate," responded Andy. 
 
 " What estate?" asked Matty. 
 
 ** Your estate and my estate," said Andy. 
 
 ** Sure, you don't call the three-cornered field my father 
 gave us an estate, you fool?" answered Matty. 
 
 "Oh, no," said Andy. ''I mane the blessed and holy 
 estate of matrimony the priest put us in possession of;" 
 and Andy drew a stool near the heiress, on the strength of 
 the hit he thought he had made. 
 
 " Sit at the other side of the fire," said Matty, very 
 ooldly. 
 
 " Yes, miss," responded Andy, very respectfully; and in 
 shoving his seat backward the legs of the stool caught in 
 the earthen floor, and Andy tumbled heels over head. 
 
 Matty lauffhed while Andy was picking himself up with
 
 HANDY ANt)Y. S'2\ 
 
 nicreased confusion at this mishap; for even amidst rustics 
 there is nothing more hnmiHating than a lover placing 
 himself in a ridiculous position at the moment he is doing 
 his best to make himself agreeable. 
 
 "It is well your coat's not new," said Matty, with a con- 
 temptuous look at Handy's weather-beaten vestment. 
 
 " I hope I'll soon have a betther," said And^, a little 
 piqued, with all his reverence for the heiress, at this allusion 
 to his poverty. " But sure it wasn't the coat you married, 
 but the man that's in it; and sure I'll take off my clothes 
 as soon as you please, Matty, my dear — Miss Dwyer, I 
 mane — I beg your pardon. " 
 
 "^Youhtid better wait till you get better," answered 
 Matty, very dryly. " You know the old saying, ' Don't 
 throw out your dirty wather until you get in fresh.'" 
 
 "Ah, darlin', don't be cruel to me!" said Andy, in a 
 supplicating tone. "' I know I'm not desarvin's of you, but 
 sure I did not make so bowld as to make up to you until I 
 seen that nobody else would have you." 
 
 " Nobody else have me!" exclaimed Matty, as her eyes 
 flashed with anger. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, miss," said poor Andy, who in the 
 extremity of his own humility had committed such an of- 
 fense against Matty's pride. " I only meant that — " 
 
 " Say no more about it," said Matty, who recovered her 
 equanimity. " Didn't my father give you the lease of the 
 field and house?" 
 
 "Yes, miss." 
 
 " You had better let me keep it, then; 'twill be safer 
 with me than you. " 
 
 " Sartainly," said Andy, who drew the lease from his 
 pocket and handed it to her, and — as he was near to her — 
 he attempted a little familiarity, which Matty repelled very 
 unequivocally. 
 
 " Arrah! is it jokes you are crackin'?" said Andy, with a 
 grin, advancing to renew his fondling. 
 
 "I tell you what it is," said Matty, jumping up, "I'll 
 crack your head if you don't behave yourself!" and she 
 seized the stool on which she had been sitting, and bran- 
 dished it in a very Amazonian fashion. 
 
 " Oh, wirra, wirra!" said Andy, in amaze — "aren't you 
 
 my wife?" 
 
 " Your wife!" retorted Matty, with a very devil in her 
 u
 
 tiii2 HANDY AKt»Y. 
 
 eye-r-*' Tour wife, indeed, you great oniadhauii ; wliy, 
 then, had you the brass to think I'd put up with you V 
 
 '' Arrah, then, why did you marry me?" said Andy, in a 
 pitiful, argumentative whine, 
 
 ''Why did I marry you?" retorted Matty— *'' Didn't I 
 know bettlier than refuse you, when my father said tlie 
 word when the decil was bust/ with him 9 Wliy did I mar- 
 ry you? — it's a i)ity I didn't refuse and be murthered that 
 night, may be, as soon as the people's backs weie turned. 
 Oh, it's little you know of old Jack Dwyer, or 3'ou 
 wouldn't ask me that; but, though I'm afraid of him, I'm 
 not afraid of you — so stand off, 1 tell you," 
 
 "Oh, Blessed Virgin!" cried Andy; " and what will be 
 the end of it?" 
 
 There was a tapping at the door as he spoke. 
 
 " You'll soon see Avhat Avill be the end of it," said 
 Matty, a£ she walked across the cabin and opened to the 
 knock. 
 
 James Casey entered and clasped Matty in his arms; and 
 half a dozen athletic fellows and one old and debauclied- 
 looking man followed, and the door was immediately closed 
 after their entry. 
 
 Andy stood in amazement while Casey and Matty 
 caressed each other; and the old man said in a roice 
 tremulous with intoxication, "A very pretty filly, by 
 jingo !" 
 
 " I lost no time the minute I got your message, Matty," 
 said Casey, " and here's the Father ready to join us." 
 
 "Ay, ay," cackled the old reprobate — "hammer and 
 tongs! — strike while the iron's hot! — I'm the boy for a 
 short job;" and he pulled a greasy book from his pocket 
 as he spoke. 
 
 This was a degraded clergyman known in Ireland under 
 the title of " Couple-Beggar," who is ready to perform ir- 
 regular marriages on such urgent occasions as the present; 
 and Matty had contrived to inform James Casey of the 
 desperate turn affairs had taken at home, and recommend- 
 ed him to adopt the present plan, and so defeat the violent 
 measure of her father by one still more so. 
 
 A scene of uproar now ensued, for Andy did not take 
 matters quietly, but made a pretty considerable row, which 
 was speedily quelled, however, by Casey's body-guard, who 
 tied Andy neck and heels, and ia that hoj^eless state he
 
 IIA\T)T ANDY. 32n 
 
 ^atnessed the marriage ceremony performed by the 
 *^ couple-beggar/' between Casey and the girl he had look- 
 ed upon as his orrn five minutes before. 
 
 In vain did he raise his voice against the proceeding; 
 the " coujDle-beggar '"' smothered his objections in ribald 
 jests. 
 
 " You can't take her from me, I tell yon," cried Andy. 
 
 '' No; but we can take you from her/' said the " couple- 
 beggar;" and, at the words, Casey's friends dragged Andy 
 from the cottage, bidding a rollicking adieu to their tri- 
 umphant companion, who bolted the door after them and 
 became possessor of the wife and property poor Andy 
 thought he had secured. 
 
 To guard against an immediate alarm being given, Andy 
 was warned on pain of death to be silent as his captors 
 bore him along, and he took them to be too much men of 
 their word to doubt they would keep their promise. They 
 bore him through a lonely by -lane for some time, and on 
 arriving at the stump of an old tree, bound him securely 
 to it, and left him to pass his wedding-night in the tight 
 embraces of hemp. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 The news of Andy's wedding, so strange in itself, and 
 being celebrated before so many, spread over the country 
 like wildfire and made the talk of half the barony for the 
 next day, and the question, Arrali, did you hear of the 
 wondherful ivedding 9" was asked in high-road and by-road, 
 and scarcely a boreen whose hedges had not borne witness 
 to this startling matrimonial intelligence. The story, like 
 all other stories, of course got twisted into various strange 
 shapes, and fanciful exaggerations became grafted on the 
 original stem, sufhciently grotesque in itself; and one of 
 the versions set forth how old Jack Dwyer, the more to vex 
 Casey, had given his daughter the greatest fortune that 
 ever had been heard of in the country. 
 
 Xow one of the ojaen-eared people who had caught h(>ld 
 of the story by tliis end happened to meet Andy's mother, 
 and, with a congratulatory grin, began with ''The top o' 
 the niornin' to you, Mrs. Kooney, and sure I wish you joy. " 
 
 •' Och hone, and for why, dear?" answered Mrs.' Rooney,
 
 334 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " sure, it^s nothin' but trouble and care I have^ poor and 
 in want, like me." 
 
 "But sure you'll never be in want any more/' 
 
 *' Arrali, who towld you so, agra?" 
 
 ** Sure the boy will take care of you now, won't he?" 
 
 '* What boy?" 
 
 *'Andy, sure!" 
 
 "Andy!" replied his mother, in amazement. "Andy, 
 indeed ! — out o' place, and without a bawbee to bless him- 
 Belf with! — stayin' out all night, the blackguard!'' 
 
 " By this and that, I don't think you know a word about 
 it," cried the friend, whose turn it was for wonder now. 
 
 "Don't I, indeed?" said Mrs. Eooney, huffed at having 
 her word doubted, as she thought. " I tell you he never 
 was at home last night, and may be it's yourself was help- 
 ing him, Micky Lavery, to keep his bad coorses — the slinge- 
 in' dirty blackguard that he is." 
 
 Micky Lavery set up a shout of laughter, which increased 
 the ire of Mrs. Eooney, who would have passed on in dig- 
 nified silence but that Micky held her fast, and when he 
 recovered breath enough to sjseak, he proceeded to tell her 
 about Andy's marriage, but in such a disjointed way, that 
 it was some time before Mrs. Eooney could comprehend 
 him — for his iiiterjectional laughter at the capital joke it 
 was, that she should be the last to know it, and that he should 
 have the luck to tell it, sometimes broke the thread of his 
 story — and then his collateral observations so disfigured the 
 tale, that its incomprehensibility became very much in- 
 creased, until at last Mrs. Eooney was driven to push him 
 by direct questions. 
 
 "For the tendher mercy, Micky Lavery, make me sinsi- 
 ble, and don't disthract me — is the boy married?" 
 
 "Yis, I tell you." 
 
 " To Jack Dwyer's daughter?'* 
 
 "Yis." 
 
 "And gev him a fort'n?" 
 
 " Gev him half his property, I tell you, and hell have 
 all when the owld man's dead. " 
 
 "Oh, more power to you, Andy!" cried liis mother in 
 delight; "it's you that is the boy, and the best child that 
 ever was! Half his property, you tell me, Misther Lavery?" 
 added she, getting distant aiul |)olito the momout she fouiui
 
 BANDY ANDY. 325 
 
 herself mother to a rich man, and curtailing her familiar- 
 ity with a poor one like Lavery. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," said Lavery, touching his hat, '*'and the 
 whole of it when the owld man dies. ■" 
 
 " Then, indeed, I wish him a happy relasel"* said Mrs. 
 Eooney, piously — "not that I owe the man any spite — but 
 Bure he'd be no loss — and it's a good Avish to any one, sure, 
 to wish them in heaven. Good mornin', Misther Lavery,^* 
 said Mrs. Eooney, with a patronizing smile, and " going 
 the road wiili a digniiied air. " 
 
 Mick Lavery looked after her with mingled wonder and 
 indignation. "Bad luck to you, you owld sthrap!" he 
 muttered between his teeth. " How consaited you are, all 
 of a sudden — by Jakers, I'm sorry I towld you — cock you 
 up, indeed — put a beggar on horseback to be sure — humjjh ! 
 — the devil cut the tongue out o' me if ever I give any one 
 good news again. I've a mind to turn back and tell Tim 
 Dooling his horse is in the pound. " 
 
 Mrs. Eooney continued her dignified pace as long as she 
 was in sight of Lavery, but the moment an angle of the 
 road screened her from his observation, oif she set, running 
 as hard as she could, to embrace her darlmg Andy, and 
 realize with her own eyes and ears all the good news she 
 had heard. She puffed out by the way many set phrases 
 about the goodness of Providence, and arranged at the 
 same time sundry fine speeches to make to the bride; so 
 that the old lady's piety and flattery ran a strange couple 
 together along with herself; while mixed up with her pra}- 
 ers and her blarney, were certain speculations about Jack 
 Dwyer — as to how long he could live — and how much he 
 might leave. 
 
 It was in this frame of mind she reached the hill which 
 commanded a view of the three-cornered field and the snug 
 cottage, and down she rushed to embrace her darling Andy 
 and his gentle bride. Puffing and blowing like a porpoise, 
 bang she went into the cottage, and Matty being the first 
 person she met, she flung herself upon her, and covered 
 her with embraces and blessings. 
 
 Matty, being taken by surprise, was some time before 
 she could shake off the old beldame's hateful caresses; but 
 at last getting free and tucking up her hair, which her im- 
 
 * A "happy release " is the Irish phrase for departing this life.
 
 326 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 aginary motlier-iii-law had clawed about her ears, she ex- 
 claimed in no very gentle tones — 
 
 " Arrah, good woai.an, who axed for your company — 
 who are you at all?" 
 
 " Your mother-in-law, jewel!" cried the Widow Rooney, 
 making another open-armed rush at her beloved daughter- 
 in-law; but Matty received the widow^s protruding mouth 
 on her clinched fist instead of her lips, and the old woman's 
 nose coming in for a share of Matty's knuckles, a ruby 
 stream spurted forth, while all the colors of the rainbow 
 dancpd before Mrs. liooney's eyes as she reeled backward 
 on the floor, 
 
 " Take that, you owld fagot!" cried Matty, as she shook 
 Mrs. liooney's tributary claret irom. the knuckles which 
 had so scientifically tapped it, and Avijjed her hand in her 
 apron. 
 
 The old woman roared " millia' murthur" on the floor, 
 and snuffled out a dejjrecatory question "if that was the 
 proper way to be received in her son's house," 
 
 '' Your son's house, indeed!" cried Matty, " Get out o' 
 the place, you stack o' rags," 
 
 " Oh, Andy! Andy!" cried the mother, gathering herself 
 up, 
 
 "Oh — that's it, is it!" cried Matty; " so it's Andy you 
 want?" 
 
 " To be sure: why wouldn't I want him, you hussy? My 
 boy! my darlin'! my beauty!" 
 
 "Well, go look for him!" cried Matty, giving her a 
 shove toward the door. 
 
 " Well, now, do you think I'll be turned out of my son's 
 house so quietly as that, you unnatural baggage !" cried Mrs. 
 Rooney, facing round, fiercely. Upon which a bitter alter- 
 cation ensued between the women, in the course of which 
 the widow soon learned that Andy was not the possessor 
 of Matty's charms: whereupon the eld w^oman, no longer 
 having the fear of damaging her daughter-in-law's beauty 
 before her eyes, tackled to for a fight in right earnest, in 
 the course of which some reprisals were made by the widow 
 in revenge for her broken nose; but Matty's youth and 
 activity, joined to her Amazonian spirit, turned the tide in 
 her favor, though, had not the old lady been blown by her 
 long run, the victory would not have been so easy, for she 
 was a tough customer, and left Matty certain, marks of her
 
 HANDY AXDY. 337 
 
 favor that did not rub out in a hurry — while she took away 
 (as a keepsake) a handful of Matty's hair, by which she had 
 long held on till a successful kick from the gentle bride 
 finally ejected Mrs. Eooney from the house. 
 
 Oft' she reeled, bleeding and roaring, and while on her 
 approach she had been blessing Heaven and inventing 
 sweet speeches for Matty, on her retreat she was cursing 
 fate and heaping all sorts of hard luimes on the Amazon 
 she came to flatter. Alas, for the brevity of human ex- 
 ultation! 
 
 How fared it in the meantime v>'ith Andy? He, poor 
 devil! had passed a cold night, tied up to the old tree, and 
 as the morning dawned every object apjjeared to him 
 through the dim light in a distorted form; the gaping hol- 
 low of the old trunk to which he was bound seemed like a 
 huge mouth, opening to swallow him, while the old knots 
 looked like eyes, and the gnarled branches like claws, 
 staring at an-d ready to tear him in pieces. 
 
 A raven, perched above him on a lonely branch, croaked 
 dismally, till Andy fancied he could hear words of reproach 
 in the sounds, while a little tomtit chattered and twittered 
 on a neighboring bough, as if he enjoyed and approved of all 
 the severe things the raven uttered. The little tomtit was 
 the worst of the two, just as the solemn reproof of the wise 
 can be better borne than the impertinent remark of some 
 chattering fool. To these imaginary evils was added the 
 reality of some enormous water-rats that issued from an 
 adjacent pool and began to eat Andy^s hat and shoes, which 
 had fallen off in his struggle with his captors; and all Andy's 
 warning ejaculations could not make the vermin abstain! rom 
 his shoes and his hat, which, to judge from their eager eating, 
 could not stay their stomachs long, so that Andy, as he 
 looked on at the rapid demolition, began to dread that they 
 might transfer their favors from his attire to himself, imtil 
 the tramp of approaching horses relieved his anxiety, and 
 in a few minutes two horsemen stood before him — they 
 were Father Phil and Squire Egan. 
 
 Great was the surj^rise of the Father to see the fellow he 
 had married the night before, and whom he sujjposed to be 
 in the enjoyment of his honeymoon, tied up to a tree and 
 looking more dead than alive; and his indignation knew no 
 bounds when he heard that a "' counle-beggar " had dared 
 to celebrate tlie marriage ceremony, vnich fact came oui
 
 338 HANDY AKDY. 
 
 in the course of the explanation Andy made of the des- 
 perate misadventure which had befallen him; but all other 
 grievances gave way in the eyes of Father Phil to tlie 
 ** couple-beggar. " 
 
 *'A 'couple-beggar'! — the audacious vagabones!" he 
 cried, while he and the Squire were engaged in loosing 
 Andy's bonds. " A * couple-beggar ' in my parish! Ho^\ 
 fast they have tied him up, Squire!" he added, as he en- 
 deavored to undo a knot. '■ A ' couple-beggar,' indeed! 
 I'll undo the marriage! — have you a knife about you. 
 Squire?— the blessed and holy tie of matrimony! — it's a 
 black knot, bad luck to it, and must be cut — take your 
 leg out o' that, now — and wait till I lay my hands on them 
 — a ' couple-beggar,' indeed!" 
 
 " A desperate outrage tliis whole affair has been!'* said 
 the Squire. 
 
 ''But a 'couple-beggar,' Squire." 
 
 " His house broken into — " 
 
 *' But a ' couple-beggar ' — '* 
 
 " His Avife taken from him — '* 
 
 " But a ' couple-beggar' — " 
 
 "The laws violated—" 
 
 "But my dues, Squire — think o* that! — what would be- 
 come o' them, if ' couple-beggars' is allowed to show their 
 audacious faces in the parish? Oh, wait till next Sunday, 
 that's all — I'll have them up before the althar, and I'll 
 make them beg God's pardon, and my pardon, and the 
 congregation's pardon, the audacious pair!"* 
 
 "It's an assault on Andy," said the Squire. 
 
 " It's a robbery on me," said Father Phil. 
 
 *' Could you identify the men?" said the Squire. 
 
 * A man and woman who had been united bj' a " couple-beggar " 
 were called up one Sunday by the priest in the face of the con- 
 gregation, and summoned, as Fatlier Phil threatens above, to beg 
 God's pardon, and the priest's pardon, and the congregation's par- 
 don; but the woman stoutly refused the last condition. " I'll beg 
 God's pardon and your Reverence's pardon," she said, " but I won't 
 beg the congregation's pardon." "You won't?" says the priest. 
 " I won't," says she. "Oh, you conthrary baggage," cried his 
 Reverence: " take her home out o' that," said he to her liusband 
 who HAD humbled himself—" take her home, and leather her well 
 — for she wants it, and if you don't leather her, you'll be sorry — 
 for if you don't make her afraid of you, she'll master you, too^ 
 lake her home and leather her." — Fact.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 329 
 
 " Do you know the ' couple-beggar 'V said the priest. 
 
 " Did James Casey lay his hauds on you?" said the 
 Squire; " for he's a good man to have a waiTant against." 
 
 ''Oh^ Squire, Squire!" ejaculated Father Phil; "talking 
 of lajang hands on him is it you are? — didn^t that black- 
 guard ' couple-beggar^ lay his dirty hands on a woman that 
 my bran new benediction was U2:»on ! Sure, they'd do any- 
 thing after that!" 
 
 By this time Andy was free, and having received the 
 Squire's directions to follow him to Merryvale, Father Phil 
 and the worthy Squire were once more in their saddles and 
 proceeded quietly to the same place, the Squire silently 
 considering the audacity of the conp-de-main which robbed 
 Andy of his Avife, and his reverence puffing out his rosy 
 cheeks and muttering sundry angry sentences, the only in- 
 telligible words of w^hich w^ere " couple-beggar." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Doubtless the reader has anticipated that the presence 
 of Father Phil in the company of the Squire at this im- 
 mediate time was on account of the communication made 
 by Andy about the post-office atl'air. Father Phil had 
 determined to give the Squire freedom from the strategic 
 coil in which Larry Hogan had insnared him, and lost no 
 time in setting about it; and it was on his intended visit to 
 Merryvale that he met its hospitable owner, and telling him 
 there was a matter of some jDrivate importance he wished 
 to communicate, suggested a quiet ride together; and this 
 it was which led to their traversing the lonely little lane 
 where they discovered Andy, whose name was so principal 
 in the revelations of that day. 
 
 To the Squire those revelations were of the dearest im- 
 
 Eortance; for they relieved his mind from a weight which 
 ad been oppressing it for some time, and set his heart at 
 rest. Egan, it must be remarked, was an odd mixture of 
 courage and cowardice; undaunted by personal danger, but 
 strangely timorous where moral courage was required. A 
 remarkable sh}Tiess, too, made him hesitate constantly in 
 the utterance of a word which might explain away any 
 difficulty in which he chanced to find himself; and this
 
 3^30 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 helped to keep his tongue tied ii) iho matter where Larrx 
 Hogau had continued to make himself a bugbear. He had 
 B horror, too, of being thought capable of doing a dis- 
 honorable thing, and the shame he felt at having peeped 
 into a letter was so stinging, that the idea of asking any 
 one's advice in the dilemma in which he was placed made 
 him recoil from the thought of such aid. Now, Father 
 Phil had relieved him from the difiiculties his own weak- 
 ness imposed; the subject had been forced upon him; and 
 once forced to speak he made a full acknowledgment of all 
 that had taken place; and when lie found Andy had not 
 borne witness against him, and that Larry Hogan only 
 inferred his participation in the transaction, he saw on 
 Father Phil's showing that he was not really in Larry 
 Hogan's power; for though he admitted he had given Larry 
 a trifle of money from time to time when Larry asked for 
 it, under the influence of certain innuendoes, yet that was 
 no proof against him; and Father Phil's advice was to get 
 Andy out of the way as soon as possible, and then to set 
 Larry quietly at defiance — that is to say, in Father Phil's 
 own words, '' to keep never minding him." 
 
 Now Andy not being encumbered with a wife (as fate 
 had so ordained it) made the matter easier, and the Squire 
 and the Father, as they rode toward Merryvale together to 
 dinner, agreed to pack ofE Andy without delay, and thus 
 place him beyond Hogan 's power; and as Dick Dawson 
 was going to London with Murphy, to push the petition 
 against Scatterbraui's return, it was looked npon as a lucky 
 chance, and Andy was at once named to bear them com- 
 pany. 
 
 ''But you must not let Hogan know that Andy is sent 
 away under your patronage. Squire," said the Father, 
 "for that would be presum]Dtive evidence you had an in- 
 terest in his absence; and Hogan is the very blackguard 
 would see it fast enough, for he is a knowing rascal." 
 
 •' He's the deepest scoundrel I ever met," said the Squire. 
 
 " As knowing as a jailer," said Father Phil. '' A jailer, 
 did I say — by dad, he bates any jailer I ever heard of — for 
 that fellow is so 'cute, he could keep Newgate icith a liooh- 
 and-eye." 
 
 " By-the-bye, there's one thing I forgot to tell you, re- 
 Biiecting those letters I threw into the fire; for remember, 
 i ather, I only })eeped into one and destroyed the others^
 
 HANDY AKDT. 3Sl 
 
 but one of the letters, I must tell you, v^sls directed to 
 yourself. " 
 
 '' Faith, then, 1 forgive you that, sqmre,'' said Father 
 Phil, "for I hate letters; but if you have any scruple of 
 conscience on the subject, write me one yourself, and tliat 
 will do as well.'"'' 
 
 The Squire could not help thinking the Father's mode 
 of settling the difhculty worthy of Handy Andy himself; 
 but he did not tell the Father so. 
 
 They had now reached Merryvale. where the good-hu- 
 mored priest was heartily welcomed, and where Doctor 
 Growling, Dick Dawson, and Murphy were also guests at 
 dinner. Great was the delight of the party at the history 
 they heard, when the clotli was drawn, of Andy's wedding, 
 so much in keeping with his former life and adventures, 
 and Father Phil had another opportunity of venting his 
 rage against the •"'couple-beggar.'' 
 
 ''That was but a sHp-knot you tied. Father," said the 
 doctor. 
 
 ''Ay, ay! joke away, doctor.-*' 
 
 " Do you think. Father Phil," said Murphy, "that that 
 marriage was made in heaven, Avherc we are told marriages 
 are made?" 
 
 "I don''t supiDose it was, Mr. Murphy; for if it had it 
 would have held upon earth." 
 
 "Very well answered. Father," said the Squire, 
 
 " I don't know what other j^eople think about matches 
 being made in heaven," said Growling, •• but I have my 
 suspicions they are sometimes made in another place." 
 
 "Oh, fy, doctor I" said Mrs. Egan. 
 
 " The doctor, ma'am, is an old bachelor," said Father 
 Phil, " or he wouldn't say so." 
 
 "Thank you, Father Phil, for so polite a speech." 
 The doctor took his pencil from his pocket and began to 
 write on a small bit of paper, which the priest observing, 
 asked him what he was about, " or is it writing a prescrip- 
 tion you are," said he, "for comjjounding better marriages 
 than I can?" 
 
 " Something very naughty, I dare say, the doetor is do- 
 ing," said Fanny Dawson. 
 
 "Judge for yourself, lady fair," said the doctor, handing 
 Fanny the c'ip of paper.
 
 333 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 Fanny looked at it for a moment and smiled, but de- 
 clared it was very wicked indeed. 
 
 *' Then read it for the company, and condemn me out 
 of your own j)retty mouth. Miss Dawson,'^ said the doctor. 
 
 *'It is too wicked." 
 
 " If it is ever so wicked," said Father Phil, " the wicked- 
 ness will be neutralized by being read by an angel," 
 
 ''Well done, St. Omer's," cried Murphy. 
 
 ''Keally, Father," said Fanny, blushing, ''you are des- 
 perately gallant to-day; and. Just to shame you, and show 
 now little of an angel I am, I will read the doctor's 
 epigram : 
 
 " Though matclies are all made in heaven, they say. 
 Yet Hymen, who mischief oft hatches. 
 Sometimes deals with the house t'other side of the toay, 
 And tJiere they make Lue;fer matches!" 
 
 "Oh, doctor! I'm afraid you are a woman-hater," said 
 Mrs. Egan. " Come away, Fanny; I am sure they want 
 to get rid of us." 
 
 " Yes," said Fanny, rising and joining her sister, who was 
 leaving the room, " and now, after abusing poor Hymen, 
 gentlemen, we leave you to your favorite worship of Bac- 
 chus. " 
 
 The departure of the ladies changed the conversation, 
 and after the gentlemen had resumed their seats, the doctor 
 asked Dick Dawson how soon he intended going to London. 
 
 "I start immediately," said Dick. "Don't forget to 
 give me that letter of introduction to your friend in Dub- 
 lin, whom I long to know." 
 
 "Who is he?" asked the Squire. 
 
 " One Tom Loftus — or, as his friends call him, ' Piping 
 Tom,' from his vocal powers; or, as some nickname him, 
 ' Organ Loftus,' from his imitation of that instrument, 
 which is an excessively comical jiiece of caricature. " 
 
 "Oh! I know him well," said Father Phil. 
 
 " How did you manage to become acquainted with him?" 
 inquired the doctor, " for I did not think he lay much in 
 your way." 
 
 " It was he became acquainted with me," said Father 
 Ph'l, " and this was the way of it — he was down on a risit 
 betimes in the parish I was in before this, and his behavior 
 ^aa go wild that I was obliged to make an allusion iu the 
 
 'O"
 
 HANDY ANDY. 333 
 
 chajjel to his indiscretions^ and threaten to make his con- 
 duct a subject of severe public censure if he did not mind 
 his manners a little better. Well, my dear, who should 
 call on me the Monday morning after but Misther Tom, 
 all smiles and graces, and protesting he was sorry he fell 
 under my displeasure, and hoping I would never have cause 
 to find fault with him again. Sure, I thought he w^as re- 
 penting of his misdeeds, and I said I was glad to hear such 
 good words from him. ' A'then, Father,' says he, 'I hear 
 you have got a great curiosity from Dublin — a shower- 
 bath, I hear?' So I said I had: and indeed, to be candid, 
 I was as proud as a peacock of the same bath, which tickled 
 my fancy "when I was once in town, so I bought it. 
 ' Would you show it to me?' says he. ' To be sure,' says I, 
 and olf I went, like a fool, and put the wather on the top, and 
 showed him how, when a string Avas pulled, down it came 
 — and he pretended not to clearly understand the thing, 
 and at last he said, ' Sure it's not into that sentry-box you 
 get?' says he. ' Oh, j'es,' said I, getting into it quite inno- 
 cent; when, my dear, he slaps the door and fastens it on 
 me, and pulls the string and souses me with the water, and I 
 with my best suit of black on me. I roared and shouted 
 inside while Misther Tom Loftus was screechin' laughing 
 outside, and dancing round the room with delight. At 
 last, when he could sjDeak, he said, ' Xow, Father, we're 
 even,' says he, ' for the abuse you gave me yesterday,' ant' 
 ofE he ran." 
 
 "That's just like him," said old Growling, chuckling; 
 '•' he's a queer devil. I remember on one occasion a poor 
 dandy puppy, who was in the same oflQce with him — for 
 Tom is in the Ordnance department, you must know — 
 this puppy, sir, wanted to go to the Ashbourne races and 
 cut a figure in the e3'es of a rich grocer's daughter he was 
 sweet upon." 
 
 '•'Being sweet upon a grocer's daughter," said Mur- 
 phy, ''is like bringing coals to !Xewcastle." 
 
 " Faith! it was coals to Xewcastle with a vengeance, in 
 the present case, for the girl would have nothing to say to 
 him, and Tom had great delight whenever he could annoy 
 this poor fool in his love-making plots. So, when he came 
 to Tom to ask for the loan of his horse, Tom said he should 
 have him {f lie could make the smallest use of Mm — 'but 
 I don't think you can,' said Tom. ' Leave that to me, ' said
 
 334 HANDY AXDY. 
 
 the youth. ' I don't think you could make him go,' said 
 Tom. * ni buy a new pair of spurs,* said the puppy. 
 ' Let them be handsome ones/ said Tom. ' I was looking 
 at a very handsome pair at Lamprey's, yesterday/ said the 
 young gentleman. ' Then you can buy them on your way 
 to my stables/ said Tom; and sure enough, sir, the youth 
 Md out his money on a very costly pair of persuaders, and 
 then proceeded homeward with Tom. ' Now, with all your 
 spurs,' said Tom, ' I don't think you'll be able to make him 
 go.' ' Is he so very vicious, then?' inquired the youth, who 
 began to think of his neck. ' On the contrary,' said Tom, 
 * he's perfectly quiet, but won't go for ijou, I'll bet a pound. ' 
 ' Done!' said the youth. ' AVell, ti-y him,' said Tom, as he 
 threw open the stable door. ' He's lazy, I see,' said the 
 youth; "for he's lying down.' * Faith he is,' said Tom, 
 *and hasn't got up these two days!' ' Get up, you brute!' 
 said the innocent youth, giving a smart cut of his whip on 
 the horse's flank; but the horse did not budge. ' Why, he's 
 dead !' says he. ' Yes,' says Tom, ' since Monday last. 
 So I don't think you can make him go, and you've lost your 
 bet!'" 
 
 " That was hardly a fair joke," said the Squire. 
 
 " Tom never stops to think of that," returned the doctor; 
 "he's the oddest fellow I ever knew. The last time I was 
 in Dublin, I called on Tom and found him one bitter 
 cold and stormy morning standing at an open wmdow, 
 nearly quite undressed. On asking him what he was about, 
 he said he was getting iip a bass voice; that Mrs. Some- 
 body, who gave good dinners and bad concerts, was dis- 
 appointed of her bass singer, ' and I think/ said Tom, 
 ' I'll be hoarse enough in the evening to take double B flat. 
 Systems are the fashion now,' said he; ' there is the 
 Logierian system and other systems, and mine is the Cold- 
 air-ian system, and the best in the world for getting up a 
 bass voice. ' " 
 
 " That was very original certainly," said the Squire. 
 
 " But did you ever hear of his adventure with the Duke 
 of AYellington?" said the doctor. 
 The Duke !" they all exclaimed. 
 
 Yes — that is, when he was only Sir Arthtlr Wellesley. 
 Well, I'll tell you." 
 
 " Stop," said the Squire, " a fresh story requires a fresh 
 bottle. Let me ring for gome Qlareti'' 

 
 HANDY AisDY. 335 
 
 CHAPTER XXXn. 
 
 Tft: serrant who brought in the claret annotmcec! at the 
 same time the arrival of a fresh guest in tlie person of 
 " Captain Moriarty/' who was welcomed by most of the 
 party by the name of Randal. The Squire regretted lie 
 was too late for dinner, inquiring at the same time if he 
 would like to have somethiug to eat at the side-table; but 
 Handal declined the ofl'er, assuring the Squire he had got 
 some refreshment during the day while he had been out 
 shooting; but as the S2Jort led him near Merry vale, and 
 " he had a great thirst upon him," he did not know a bet- 
 ter house in the coimtr^^vherein to have " that same ^' 
 satisfied. 
 
 " Then you're just in time for some cool claret," said 
 the Squire; " so sit down beside the doctor, for he must 
 have the first glass and broach the bottle, before he broaches 
 the story he^s going to tell us — that's only fair." 
 
 The doctor filled his glass, and tasted. " "What a nice 
 ' chateau ' ' Afarganx ' must be,'' said he, as he laid down 
 his glass. " I should like to be a tenant-at-will there at a 
 small rent. " 
 
 *' And no taxes," said Dick. 
 
 " Except my duty to the claret," replied the doctor. 
 
 " ' My favorite chSteau 
 Is that of Margaux.' 
 
 " By the bye, talking of clidteau, there's the big brewer 
 over at the town, who is anxious to affect gentility, and he 
 heard some one use the word chapeati, and having found 
 out it was the French for hat, he determined to show off 
 on the earliest possible occasion, and selected a public 
 meeting of some sort to display his accomplishment. Tak- 
 ing some cause of objection to the proceedings, as an ex- 
 cuse for leaving the meeting, he said, ' Gentlemen, the 
 fact is I can't agree with you, so T may as well take my 
 chateau under my arm at once, and walk. ' " 
 
 " Is not that an invention of your own, doctor?" said 
 the Squire. 
 
 *' 1 heard it for fact," said Growling.
 
 336 HA>fDY AKDY. 
 
 << 
 
 And 'tis true/ 'added Murphy, ''for T was present 
 when he said it. And at an earlier part of the proceedings 
 he suggested that the parish clerk should read the resolu- 
 tions, because he had a good ' lauilahle voice. ' " 
 
 " A parish clerk ought to have,'' said the doctor — " eh, 
 Father Phil? ' Ladamus!' " 
 
 " Leave your Latin," said Dick, *' and tell us that story 
 you promised about the Duke and Tom Loftus." 
 
 " Right, Misther Dick," said Father Phil. 
 
 " The story, doctor," said the Squire. 
 
 " Oh, don't make such bones about it," said Growling; 
 " 'tis but a trifle after all; only it shows you what a queer 
 and reckless rascal Tom is. I told vou he was called 
 ' Organ ' Loftus by his friends, in consequence of the imi- 
 tation he makes of that instrument; and it certainly is 
 worth hearing and seeing, for your eyes have as much to 
 do with the atfair as your ears. Tom plants himself on a 
 high office-stool, before one of those lofty desks with long 
 rows of drawers down each side and a hole between to put 
 your legs imder. Well, sir, Tom pulls out the top draw- 
 ers, like the stops of an organ, and the lower ones by way 
 of pedals: and then he begins thrashing the desks like the 
 finger-board of an organ, with his hands, while his feet 
 kick away at the lower drawers as if he were the greatest 
 pedal performer out of Germany, and he emits a rapid suc- 
 cession of grunts and squeaks, producing a ludicrous 
 reminiscence of the instrument, which I defy any one to 
 hear without laughing. Several sows and an indefinite 
 number of sucking pigs could not make a greater noise, 
 and Tom himself declares he studied the instrument in a 
 pig-sty, which he maintains gave the first notion of an 
 organ. Well, sir, the youths in the office assist in ' doing 
 the service,' as they call it, that is, making an imitation of 
 the chanting and so forth in St. Patrick's Cathedral." 
 
 " Oh, the haythens!" said Father Phil. 
 
 *' One does Spray, and another Weyman, and another 
 Sir John Stevenson, and so on; and they go on responsing 
 and singing ' Amen ' till the Ordnance Offi.ce rings again." 
 
 " Have they nothing better to do?" asked the Squire. 
 Very little but reading the papers," said the doctor. 
 Well — Tom — you must know, sir — was transferred 
 BOme time ago, by the interest of many influential friends, 
 to the London department; and tlie fame of his musical 
 
 <( 
 
 («
 
 HANDY ANDY. 337 
 
 powers had gone before him from some of the English 
 clerks in Ireland who had been advanced to the higher 
 posts in Dublin, and kept up correspondence with their old 
 friends in London; and it was not long until Tom was re- 
 quested to go through an anthem on the great office-desk. 
 Tom was only too glad to be asked, and he kept the whole 
 office in a roar for an hour with all the varieties of the in- 
 strument—from the diapason to the flute-stop — and the 
 devil a more business was done in the office that day, and 
 Tom before long made the sober English fellows as great 
 idlers as the chaps in Dublin. Well— it was not long until 
 a sudden flush of business came upon the department, in 
 consequence of the urgent preparations making for supplies 
 to Spain, at the time the Duke was going there to take the 
 command of the army, and organ-jilaying was set aside for 
 some days; but the fellows, after a week's abstinence, began 
 to yearn for it, and Tom was requested to ' do the service. ■* 
 Tom, nothing loath, threw aside his official papers, set up 
 a big ledger before him, and commenced his legerdemain, 
 as he called it, pulled out his stops, and began to work 
 away like a weaver, while every now and then he swore at 
 the bellows-blower for not giving him wind enough, where- 
 upon the choristers would kick the bellows-blower to ac- 
 celerate his flatulency. Well, sir, they were in the middle 
 of the service, and all the blackguards making the re- 
 sponses in due season, when, just as Tom was quivering 
 under a portentous grunt, which might have shamed the 
 principal diapason of Harlaem, and the subs were drawing 
 out a resplendent ' A — a — a — men/ the door opened, and 
 in walked a smart-looking gentleman, with rather a large 
 nose and quick eye, which'latter glanced round the office, 
 where a sudden endeavor was made by everybody to get 
 back to his place. The smart gentleman seemed rather 
 surprised to see a little fat man blowing at a desk instead 
 of the fire, and long Tom kicking, grunting, and squealing 
 like mad. The bellows-blower was so taken by surprise he 
 couldn't stir, and Tom, having his back to them, did not 
 see what had taken place, and went on as if nothing had 
 happened, till the smart gentleman went up to him, and 
 tapping on Tom's desk with a little riding-whip, he said, 
 * I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but I wish to know what 
 you're about.' * We're doing the ser\ice, sir,' said Tom, 
 po ways abashed at the sight of the stranger^ for he did
 
 333 HANPT ANr>T. 
 
 not know it was S'ir Arthur Wellesley was talking to him. 
 ' Not the puhlir service, sir/ said Sir Arthur. ' Yes, sir,* 
 said Tom, ' the service as by law established in the second 
 year of the reign of King Edward the Sixth/ and he 
 favored the future hero of Waterloo with a touch of the 
 organ. ' Who is the head of this office?' inquired Sir 
 Arthur. Tom, with a very gracious bow, replied, 'I am 
 principal organist, sir, and allow me to introduce you to 
 the principal bellows-blower ' — and he pointed to the poor 
 little man, who let the bellows fall from his hand as Sir 
 Arthur fixed his eyes on him. Tom did not perceive till 
 now that all the clerks were taken with a sudden fit of 
 industry, and were writing away for the bare life; and he 
 cast a look of surprise round the office while Sir Arthur 
 was looking at the bellows-blower. One of the clerks made 
 a wry face at Tom, which showed him all was not right. 
 ' Is this the way his Majesty's service generally goes on 
 here?' said Sir Arthur, sharply. No one answered; but 
 Tom saw, by the long faces of the clerks and the short 
 question of the visitor, that he was somebody. 
 
 ' ' ' Some transports are waiting for ordnance stores, and 
 I am referred to this office,' said Sir Arthur; ' can any one 
 give me a satisfactory answer?' 
 
 " The senior clerk present (for the head of the office Avas 
 absent) came forward and said, ' I believe, sir — ' 
 
 " ' You believe, but you don't hi07v/ said Sir Arthur; 
 ' so I must wait for stores while you are playing tomfoolery 
 here. I'll report this. ' Then producing a little tablet 
 and a pencil, he turned to Tom and said, * Favor me with 
 your name, sir?' 
 
 *' * I give you my honor, sir,' said Tom. 
 
 " ' I'd rather you'd give me the stores, sir — ^I'll trouble 
 you for your name?' 
 
 " ' Upon my honor, sir,' said Tom, pgain. 
 
 " ' You seem to have a great deal of that article on your 
 hands, sir,' said Sir Arthur: 'you're an Irishman, I sup- 
 pose?' 
 
 '' ' Yes, sir,' said Tom. 
 
 " * I thought so. Your name?* 
 
 "'Loftus, sir.' 
 
 '' ' Ely family?* 
 
 " ' No, sir.' 
 
 •• ' Glad of it '
 
 HANDY ANPT. 332 
 
 " He put up his tablet after writing the name. 
 " ' May I beg the favor to know, sir/ said Tom, to 
 whom I have the honor of addressing myself?' 
 " • 8ir Arthur Wellesley, sir.' 
 *" Oh! J s!' cried Tom, ' I'm done!' 
 
 " Sir Arthur could not help laughing at the extraordi- 
 nary change in Tom's countenance; and Tom, taking ad- 
 vantage of this relaxation in his iron manner, said in a 
 most penitent tone, ' Oh, Sir Arthur Wellesley, only for- 
 give me this time, and 'pon my sow!/ says he — with the 
 richest brogue — ' 1*11 play a Te Dcinn for the first licking 
 you give the French.' Sir Arthur smiled and left the 
 office." 
 
 *' Did he report as he threatened?" asked the Squire. 
 
 ''Faith, he cUd." 
 
 *' And Tom?" inquired Dick. 
 
 " Was sent back to Ireland, sir." 
 
 " That was hard, after the Duke smiled at him," said 
 Murphy. 
 
 ■' Well, he did not let him suffer in pocket; he was trans- 
 ferred at as good a salary to a less important department; 
 but vou know the Duke has been celebrated all his life for 
 never overlooking a breach of duty. " 
 
 " And who can blame him?" said Moriarty. 
 
 " One great advantage of the practice has been," said 
 the Squire, ' " that no man has been better served. I re- 
 member hearing a striking instance of what, perhaps, 
 might be called severe justice, which he exercised on a 
 young and distinguished officer of artillery in Spain ; and 
 though one can not help pitying the case of the gallant 
 young fellow Avho was the sacrifice, yet the question of 
 strict duty, to the very ivord, was set at rest forever under 
 the Duke's command, and it saved much a/ifer-trouble by 
 making every officer satisfied, however fiery his courage or 
 tender his sense of being suspected of the white feather, 
 that implicit obedience was the course he must pursue. 
 The case was this : the army was going into action — " 
 
 "' What action was it?" inquired Father Phil, with that 
 remarkable alacrity which men of peace evince in hearing 
 the fullest particulars about war, perhaps because it is for- 
 bidden to their cloth; one of the many instances of things 
 acquiring a fictitious value by being interdicted — just as
 
 310 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 Father Phil liimself might have been a Protestant only foi 
 the penal laws. 
 
 "I don't know what action it was/ 'said the Squire, 
 ** nor the officer's name — for I don't set up for a military 
 chronicler; but it w^as, as I have been telling you, going 
 into action that the Duke posted an officer, with his six 
 guns, at a certain point, telling him to remain there until 
 he had orders from hivi. Away went the rest of the army, 
 and the officer was left doing nothing at all, which he 
 didn't like; for he was one of those high-blooded gentle- 
 men who are never so happy as when they are making 
 other people miserable, and he was longing for the head of 
 a French column to be hammering away at. In half an 
 hour or so he heard the distant sound of action, and it ap- 
 proached nearer and nearer, until he heard it close behind 
 him; and he wondered rather that he was not invited to 
 take a share in it, when, pat to his thought, up came an 
 aide-de-camp at full speed, telling him that General Some- 
 body ordered him to bring up his guns. The officer asked 
 did not the order come from Lord Wellington? The aide- 
 de-camp said no, but froiii the general, whoever he was. 
 The officer exjilained that he was placed there by Lord 
 Wellington, under command not to move, unless by an 
 order from InmscJf. The aide-de-camp stated that the 
 general's entire brigade was being driven in and must be 
 annihilated without the aid of the guns, and asked * would 
 he let a whole brigade be slaughtered?' in a tone which 
 wound^ the young soldier's pride, savoring, as he thought 
 it did, of an imputation on his courage. He immediately 
 ordered his guns to move and joined battle with the gen- 
 eral; but while he was away, an aide-de-camp from Lord 
 Wellington rode up to where the guns had been posted, 
 and, of course, no gun was to be had for the service which 
 Lord Wellington required. Well, the French were re- 
 pulsed, as it hap])ened; but the want of those six guns 
 seriously marred a preconcerted movement of the Duke's, 
 and the officer in command of them was immediately 
 brought to a court-martial, and would have lost his com- 
 mission but for the universal interest made in his favor by 
 the general officers in consideration of his former meritorious 
 conduct and distinguished gallantry, and under the pecul- 
 iar circumstances of the case. They did not break him, 
 but he was suspended, and Lord Wellington sent him hom^
 
 (( 
 
 HANDV axdy, pu\ 
 
 to EnglanJ. Almost every general officer in the army en- 
 deavored to get hirf seuteiiee revoked, lamenting the fate of 
 a gallant fellow being sent away for a. slight error in judg- 
 ment while the army v/as in hot action; but Lord Welling- 
 ton was inexorable, saying he must make an example to 
 secure himself in the perfect obedience of officers to their 
 oi-ders; and it had the ert'ect/' 
 
 Well, that's what I call hard!'' said Dick. 
 
 My dear Dick,*' said the Squire, " war is altogether a 
 hard thing, and a man has no business to be a general who 
 isn't as hard as his own round shot." 
 
 " And what became of the dear vouna: man?" said 
 Father Phil, who seemed much touched by the readiness 
 with which the dear young man set off to mow down the 
 French. 
 
 " I can tell you," said Moriarty, '"' for I served with him 
 afterward in the Peninsula. He was let back after a year 
 or so, and became so thorough a disciplinarian, that he 
 swore, when once he was at his post, ' they might kill // is 
 father before his face and he wouldn't budge until he had 
 orders.' " 
 
 " A most Christian resolution," said the doctor. 
 
 " Well, I can tell you," said Moriarty, " of a French- 
 man, who made a greater breach of discipline, and it was 
 treated more leniently. I heard the story from the man's 
 own lips, and if I could only give you his voice and gesture 
 and manner it would amuse you. What fellows those 
 Frenchmen are, to be sure, for telling a story I they make 
 a shrug or a wink have twenty different meanings, and 
 their claws are most eloquent — one might say they talk on 
 their ftnaers — and their broken English, I think, helps 
 them." " 
 
 " Then give the story, Eandal, m his manner," said 
 Dick. ''" I have heard you imitate a Frenchman capitally.''* 
 
 " Well, here goes," said Moriarty; "but let me wet my 
 whistle with a glass of claret before I begin — a French 
 story should have French wme." Eandal tossed off one 
 glass, and filled a second by way of reserve, and then began 
 the French officer's story. 
 
 ''You see, sare, it vos ven in Espagne de bivouac vos 
 vairy ard indeet 'pon us, vor ve coot naut get into de town 
 at idl, nevair, becos you dam Ingelish keep all de town tu
 
 34'3 HAXDY ANDY. 
 
 yoursefs — vor ve fall back at dat time becos we get not 
 support — no corps de reserve, you perceive — so ve raek 
 retrograde nioveraent — not retreat — no, no — but retro- 
 grade movement. Veil — von night I was wit my picket 
 guart, and it was raining like de devil, and de vind vos 
 vindiug up de valley, so cold as noting at all, and de dark 
 vos vot you could not see — no — not your no.se bevore your 
 face. Veil, I hear de tramp of horse, and 1 look into dt* 
 dark — for ve vere vairy moche on the qui vive, because ve 
 expec de Ingelish to attaque de next da}' — but I see noting; 
 but de tramp of horse come closer and closer, and at last 1 
 ask, ' Who is dere?' and de tramp of de horse stop. I run 
 forward, and den I see Ingelish oftisair of cavallerie. 1 
 address him, and tell him he is in our lines, but I do not 
 vant to mek him prisonair — for you must know dat he vos 
 prisonair, if I like, ven he vos vithin our line. He is very 
 polite — lie say, ' Bien obllgi' — Ion enfant ;' and we tek off 
 our hat to each ozer. ' 1 art' lost my roat, ' he sa}'; and I 
 say, ' Yais ' — bote I vill put him into his roat, and so I a»k 
 for a moment pardon, and go back to my caporal, and tell 
 him to be on de qui vive till I come back. De Ingelish 
 offisair and me talk very plaisant vile ve go togezer down 
 de leetle roat, and ven ve come to de turn, I say, ' Bon 
 soir, Monsieur le Capitaine — dat is your vay. ' He den 
 tank me, vera moche like gentilman, and vish he coot mek 
 me some return for my genei'osite, as he please to say — and 
 I say, ' Bali\ Ingelish gentilman vood do de same to French 
 offisair who lose his vay. ' ' Den come here, ' he say, ' hou 
 enfant, can you leave your post for 'aft' an hour.^' ' Leave 
 my post?' I say. ' Yais,' said he, ' I know your army has 
 not moche provision lately, and may be you are ongrie?' 
 ' Ma foi, yais,' said I; 'I aff naut slips to my eyes, nor 
 meat to my stomach, for more dan fife days. ' ' Veil, hon 
 enfant,' he say, 'come vis me, and I vill gif you good 
 supper, goot yine, and goot velcome. ' " Coot I leave my 
 post?' I say. He say, ' Bah! Caporal take care till you 
 come back. ' By gar, I coot nant resist — lie vos so vairy 
 moche gentilman and / was so ongrie — I go vis him — not 
 fife hunder yarts — ah! hon Dieu — how nice! In de corner 
 of a leetle ruin chapel dere is nice bit of fire, and hang on 
 a string before it de half of a kid — oh cieJ! de smell of de 
 ros-hif was so nice — I rub my hands to de rire — I snifF de 
 iiiisine — I c>ee in anozer corner a couple ootties of wine
 
 HAN-DT ANDY. 343 
 
 —mere ! it vos all watair in my moutsl Ve sit down to 
 ?uppair — I nevair did ate so moclie iu my life. Ve did 
 finish de bones, and vosh down all mid der good wine — ex^ 
 cellent! Ve drink de toast — a la gloire — and ve talk of de 
 campaign. Ve drink a la Patrie, and den / tink of la 
 belle France and ma douce amie — and he fissel, ' Got safe 
 de King. ' Ve den driiik a Vamitie, and sliek hands over 
 dat fire in good f rainship — dem two ha/ids that might cross 
 de swords in de morning. Yais, sair, dat was fine — 'twas 
 ijalliard — 'twas la vrai cMvo.lrie — two sojair ennemi to 
 share de same kid, drink de same wine, and talk like two 
 friends. Veil, I got den so sleepy, dat my eyes go blink, 
 blink, and my goot friend says to me, ' Sleep, old fellow; I 
 know you aff got hard fare of late, and you are tired; 
 sleep, all is quiet for to-night, and I will call yon before 
 dawn. ' Sair, I vos so tired, I forgot my duty, and fall 
 down fast asleep. Veil, sair, in de night de pickets of 
 de two armie get so close, and mix up, dat some shot 
 gets fired, and in one moment all in confusion. I am 
 shake by de shoulder — I wake like from dream — I heard 
 s^harp fusillade — my friend cry, ' Fly to your post, it is 
 attack!' We exchange one shek of de hand, and I run off 
 to my post. Oh, del ! — it is driven in — I see dem fly. Oh, 
 mon desespoir a ce moment-la ! I am ruin— ■deshonore — I 
 rush to de front — I rally mes braves — ve stand ! — ve ad- 
 vance!!! — ve regain de post!!! — I am safe!!! J)q fusillade 
 cease — ^it is only an affair of outposts. I tink I am safe — 
 I tink I am very fine fellow — but Monsieur VAide-31ajor 
 send for me and sjDcak, ' Vere vos you last night, sair?' 
 ' I mount guard by de mill.' 'Are you sure!'" ' Oui, 
 monsieur. ' ' Ye re vos you when your post vos attack!-" 
 I saw it vos no use to denv anv longair, so I confess to him 
 every ting. ' Sail,' said he, ' you rally your men very good, 
 or you should he shot! Young man, remember,' said he — 
 I will never forget his vorts — ' young man vine is goot — 
 slip is goot — goat is goot — but honners is betters!' " 
 
 " A capital story, Eandal," cried Dick; " but bow much 
 of it did you invent?" 
 
 '' 'Pon my life, it is as near the original as possible. " 
 
 " Besides, that is not a fair way of using a story," said 
 
 the doctor. '' You should take a story as you get it, and 
 
 not play the dissector upon it, mangling its poor body to 
 
 iiscover the bit ol embellishment ; arid as long as a raconteur
 
 .144 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 maintains vroisemhlance, I contend you are bound to re- 
 ceive the whole as true. " 
 
 "A most author-like creed, doctor/' said Dick; " 3'oii 
 are a story-teller yourself, and enter upon the defense of 
 your craft with great spirif 
 
 "And justice, too,'' said the Squire; "the doctor is 
 quite right." 
 
 '' Don't suppose I can't see the little touches of the art- 
 ist," said the doctor; " but so long as they are in keeping 
 with the picture, I enjoy them; for instance, my friend 
 Randal's touch of the Englishman ' fissling Got safe de 
 King ' is very hapjiy — quite in character. " 
 
 " Well, good or bad, the story in substance is true," 
 said Randal, " and puts the Englishman in a fine point of 
 view — a generous fellow, sharhig his supper with his enemy 
 whose sword may be through his body in the next morn- 
 ing's ' affair. ' " 
 
 "But the Frenchman was generous to him first," re- 
 marked the Squire. 
 
 " Certainty — I admit it," said Eandal. " In short, they 
 were both fine fellows. " 
 
 " Oh, sir," said Father Phil, " the French are not de- 
 ficient in a chivalrous spirit. I heard once a very pretty 
 little bit of anecdote about the way they behaved to one of 
 our regiments on a retreat in Spain. " 
 
 " Your regiments!" said Moriart}^, who was rather fond 
 of hitting hard at a priest w^hen he could; " a regiment of 
 fiiars is it?" 
 
 " No, captain, but of soldiers; and it's going through a 
 river they were, and the French, taking advantage of their 
 helpless condition, were peppering away at them hard and 
 fast. " 
 
 " Very generous indeed!" said Moriarty, laughing. 
 
 " Let me finish my story, captain, before you quiz it. I 
 say they were peppering them sorely while they w^ere cross- 
 ing the river, until some women — the followers of the camp 
 — ran down (poor creatures) to the shore, and the stream 
 was so deep in the middle they could scarcely ford it; so 
 some dragoons who were galloping as hard as they could 
 out of the fire pulled up on seeing the condition of the 
 womenkind, and each horseman took up a woman behind 
 him. though it diminished his own power of speeding from 
 the danger. The moment the French saw this act of man-
 
 HAXDY AXDT. 34 
 
 ly courtesy, they ceased firing, gave the dragoons a cheer, 
 and as loug as the women were within gunshot, not a trig- 
 ger was pulled in the French line, but volleys of cheers 
 instead of ball-cartridge were sent after the brigade till all 
 the women were over. Now wasn't that generous?"' 
 
 " 'Twas a handsome thing!" was the universal remark. 
 
 " And faith 1 can tell you. Captain Moriarty, the army 
 took advantage of it; for there was a great struggle to have 
 the pleasure of the ladies' company over the river.'" 
 
 " 1 dare say. Father Phil," said the Squire, laughing. 
 
 " Throth, Squire," said the padre, " fond of the girls as 
 the soldiers have the reputation of being, they never Hked 
 them better than that same day. " 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Moriarty, a little piqued, for he rather 
 affected the " dare-devil," " I see you mean to insinuate 
 that we soldiers fear fire. " 
 
 " I did not say ' fear,' captain — ^lout they'd hke to get 
 out of it, for all that, and small blame to them — aren't 
 they flesh and blood like ourselves?'" 
 
 " Not a bit like you," said Moriarty. " You sleek and 
 smooth gentlemen who live in luxurious peace know Httle 
 of a soldier's danger or feelings. '" 
 
 " Captain, we all have our dangers to go through; and 
 may be a priest has as many as a soldier; and we only 
 t-how a difl:erence of taste, after all, in the selection. " 
 
 " Well, Father Blake, all I know is, that a true soldiei 
 fears nothing I" said Moriarty with energy. 
 
 '* May be so," answered Father Pliil, quietly. 
 
 " It is quite clear, however," said Murphy, " that war, 
 with all its horrors, can call out occasionally the finer feel- 
 ings of our natures; but it is only such redeeming traits as 
 those we have heard which can reconcile us to it. I remem- 
 ber having heard an incident of war, myself, which affected 
 me much," said Murphy, who caught the infection of mil- 
 itary anecdote which circled the table; and indeed there is 
 no more catching theme can be started among men, for it 
 may be remarked that whenever it is broached it flows on 
 until it is rather more than time to go to the ladies. 
 
 " It was in the earlier portion of the memorable day of 
 Waterloo," said Murphy, ''that a young officer of the 
 (xixards received a wound which brought him to thegrouu'l. 
 His companions rushed on to seize some point whi(;h their
 
 346 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 desperate valor was called on to carry, and lie was left, ut- 
 terly unable to rise, for the M'ound was in his foot. He lav 
 lor some hours with the thunder of that terrible day ring- 
 ing around him, and many a rush of horse and foot had 
 passed close beside him. Toward the close of the day he 
 saw one of the Black Brunswick dragoons approaching, 
 who drew rein as his eye caught the young Guardsman, 
 pale and almost fainting, on the ground. He alighted, 
 and finding he was not mortally wounded, assisted him to 
 rise, lifted him into lijs saddle, and helped to support him 
 there while he walked beside him to the English rear. The 
 Brunswicker was an old man; his brow and mustache were 
 grey; despair was in his sunken eye, and from time to 
 time he looked up with an expression of the deepest yearn- 
 hig into the face of the young soldier, who saw big tears 
 rolling down the veteran's cheek while he gazed upon him. 
 * You seem in bitter sorrow, my kind friend,' said the strip- 
 ling. ' No wonder, ' answered the old man, with a hollow 
 groan. ' I and my three boys were in the same regiment 
 — they were alive the morning of Ligny — I am childless 
 to-day. But 1 have revenged them!' he said fiercely, and 
 as he spoke he held out his sword, which was literally red 
 with blood. * But, oh! that will not bring me back my 
 boys!' he exclaimed, relapsing into his sorrow. ' My three 
 gallant boys!' — and again he wept bitterly, till clearing his 
 eyes from the tears, and looking up in the young soldier's 
 handsome face, he said tenderly, ' You are like my 
 youngest one, and I could not let you lie on the field. ' " 
 
 Even the rolhcking Murphy's eyes were moist as he re- 
 cited this anecdote; and as for Father Phil, he was quite 
 melted, ejaculating in an undertone, " Oh, my poor fel- 
 low! my poor fellow!" 
 
 " So there," said Murphy, "is an example of a man, 
 "with revenge in his heart, and his right arm tired with 
 slaughter, suddenly melted into gentleness by a resem- 
 blance to his child. " 
 
 *' ^Tis very touching, but very sad," said the Squire. 
 
 "My dear sir," said the doctor, with his peculiar dry- 
 ness, "• sadness is the principal fruit which warfare must 
 ever produce. Y'^ou may talk of glory as long as you like, 
 but you can not have your laurel without your cypress, and 
 though you may select certain bits of sentiment out of a 
 mass of horrors, if you allow me, I will gi\ e you one littls
 
 HANDY ANDY. 347 
 
 story M^hich ftha'ir't keep you long, and will serve as a 
 commentary upon war and glory in general. 
 
 •• At the peace of 1803, I happened to be traTeling 
 through a town in France where a certain coimt I knew 
 resided. I waited upon him, and he received me most 
 cordially, and invited me to dinner. I made the excuse that 
 I was only en route, and supplied with but traveling cos- 
 tume, and therefore not fit to present myself amongst the 
 guests of such a house as his. He assured me I should only 
 meet his own family, and pledged himself for Madame la 
 Comtesse being wOling to waive the ceremony of a grande 
 toilette. I went to the house at the appointed hour, and as 
 I passed through the hall I cast a glance at the dining- 
 room and saw a very long table laid. On arriving at the 
 reception-room, I taxed the count with having broken faith 
 with me, and was about making my excuses to the countess 
 when she assured me the count had dealt honestly by me, 
 for that I was the only guest to join the family party. 
 Well, we sat down to dinner, three-and-twenty persons; 
 myself, the count and countess, and their twenty cliildrenl 
 and a more lovely family I never saw; he a man in a vigor 
 of life, she a still attractive Avoman, and these their off- 
 spring lining the table, where the happy eyes of father and 
 mother glanced with pride and affection from one side to 
 the other on these future staffs of their old age. Well, the 
 peace of Amiens was of short duration, and I saw no more 
 of the count till Napoleon's abdication. Then I visited 
 France again, and saw my old friend. But it was a sad 
 sight, sir, in that same house, where, little more than ten 
 years before, I had seen the bloom and beauty of twenty- 
 children, to sit down Avith tliree — all he had left him. His 
 sons had fallen in battle — his daughters had died widowed, 
 leaving but orphans. And thus it was all over France. 
 While the public voice shouted ' Glory!' wailing was in her 
 homes. Her temple of victory was filled with trophies, but 
 her hearths were made desolate. " 
 
 " Still, sir, a true soldier fears nothing,'' repeated Mor- 
 iarty 
 
 *' Baithershin," said Father Phil. *' Faith I have been 
 in places of danger you'd be glad to get out of, I can tell 
 you, as bould as you are, captain. " 
 
 " You'll pardon me for -ioubting you, Father Blake,*' 
 said Moriarty, rather huffed-
 
 348 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " Faith tJjeii you wouldn't like to be where I was before 
 I came here; that is, in a mud cabin, where I was giving 
 the last rites to six people dying in the typhus fever. " 
 
 '' Typhus!" exclaimed Moriarty, growing pale, and in- 
 stinctively withdrawing his chair as far as he could from 
 the padre beside whom he sat. 
 
 '' Ay, typhus, sir; most inveterate typhus." 
 "Gracious Heaven!" said Moriarty, rising, "how can 
 you do such a dreadful thing as run the risk of bearing in- 
 fection into society?" 
 
 " I thought soldiers were not afraid of anything," said 
 Father Phil, laughing at him; and the rest of the party 
 joined in the merriment. 
 
 " Fairly hit, Moriarty," said Dick. 
 
 " Nonsense," said Moriarty; " when I spoke of danger, I 
 meant such open danger as — in short, not such insidious 
 lurking abomination as infection; for I contend that — " 
 
 " Say no more, Eandal," said Growling, "you're done! 
 — Father Phil has floored you." 
 
 " I deny it,'' said Moriarty, warmly; but the more he 
 denied it, the more every one laughed at him. 
 
 " You're more frightened than hurt, Moriarty," said the 
 Squire; " for the best of the joke is, Father Phil wasn't in 
 contact with typhus at all, but was riding with me — and 
 'tis but a joke. ' ' 
 
 Here they all roared at Moriarty, who was excessively 
 angry, but felt himself in such a ridiculous position that 
 he could not quarrel with anybody. 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear captain,' ' said the Father; " I only 
 wanted to show you that a poor priest has to run the risk 
 of his life just as much as the boldest soldier of them all. 
 But don't you think. Squire, 'tis time to join the ladies? 
 I'm sure the tay will be tired waiting for us." 
 
 OHAPTEE XXXin. 
 
 Mrs. Egan" was engaged in some needle-work, and 
 Fanny turning over the leaves of a music-book, and occa- 
 sionally humming some bars of her favorite songs, as the 
 gentlemen came into the drawing-room. Fanny rose from 
 the pianoforte as they entered. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Dawson," exclaimed Moriarty, '* why tanta-
 
 HANDY ANDY. 349 
 
 lize us so much as to let us see you seated in that place 
 where you can render so much delight, only to leave it as 
 we enter?" 
 
 Panny turned off the captain's flourishing speech with a 
 few lively words and a smile, and took her seat at the tea- 
 table to do the honors. 
 
 " The captain," said Father Phil to the doctor, " ia 
 equally great in love or war/ ' 
 
 '' And knows about as little of one as the other,"' said 
 the doctor. " His attacks are too open." 
 
 " And therefore easily foiled," said Father Phil. " How 
 that pretty creature, with the turn of a word and a curl of 
 her lip, upset him that time! Oh! what a powerful thing 
 a woman's smile is, doctor! I often congratulate myself 
 that my calling puts all such mundane follies and attrac- 
 tions out of my way, when I see and know what fools wise 
 men are sometimes made by silly girls. Oh, it is fearful, 
 doctor; though, of course, part of the mysterious dispen- 
 sation of an all-wise Providence." 
 
 '' That fools should have the mastery, is it.^" inquired 
 the doctor, dryly, with a mischievous query ii) his eye as 
 well. 
 
 " Tut, tut, tut, doctor," replied Father Phil, impatient- 
 ly; " you know well enough what I mean, and I won't 
 allow you to engage me in one of your ingenious battles of 
 words. I speak of that wonderful influence of the weaker 
 sex over the stronger, and how the word of a rosy lip out- 
 weighs sometimes the resolves of a furrowed brow; and 
 how the — pooh! pooh! I'm making a fool of myself talk- 
 ing to you — but to make a long story short, I would 
 rather wradle out a logical dispute any day, or a tough 
 argument of one of the Fathers, than refute some absurdity 
 which fell from a pretty mouth with a smile on it. " 
 
 " Oh, I quite agree with you," said the doctor, grin- 
 ning, " that the fathers are not half such dangerous cus- 
 tomers as the daughters. " 
 
 " Ah, go along with you, doctor!" said Father Phil, 
 with a good-humored laugh. "I see you are in one of 
 your mischievous moods, and so I'll have nothing more to 
 say to yoH." 
 
 The Father turned away to join the Squire, while the 
 doctor took a seat near Fanny Dawson and enjoyed a 
 quiet little bit of conversation with her, while Moriarty
 
 350 HAXDY ANDY. 
 
 was turning over the leaves of her album; but the brow of 
 the captain, who affected a taste in poetry, became knit, 
 and his lip assumed a contemptuous curl, as he perused 
 some lines, and asked Fanny whose was the composition. 
 " I forget,"' was Fanny's answer. 
 
 " I don't wonder," said Moriarty; ** the author is not 
 worth remembering, for they are very rough. ' ' 
 
 Fanny did not seem pleased witli the criticism, and said 
 that, when sung to the measure of the air written down on 
 the opposite page, they were very tlowiug. 
 
 " But the principal phrase, the ' refrain,^ I may say, is 
 so vulgar," added Moriarty, returning to the charge. 
 *' The gentleman says, ' What would you do?' and the lady 
 answers, ' That's what I'd do,' Do you call that poetry?" 
 " I don't call tliat poetry," said Fanny, with some em- 
 phasis on the word; " but if you connect those two phrases 
 "Vk'itli what is intermediately written, and read all in the 
 spirit of the entire of the verses, I tliink there u poetry 
 in them — but if wot poetry, cert-dlnly feeliiu/." 
 
 " Can you tolerate ' That's what I'd do' 9 — the pert an- 
 swer of a house-maid." 
 
 '' A phrase in itself homely," answered Fanny, " may 
 become elevated by the use to wln'ch it is applied. " 
 
 " Quite true. Miss Dawson," said the doctor, joining in 
 the discussion. " But, what are these lines which excite 
 Randal's ire?" 
 
 "Here they are," said Moriarty. " I will read them, 
 if you allow me, and then judge between Miss Dawson and 
 me. 
 
 " ' What will you do, love, when I am going, 
 
 With white sail flowing, 
 
 The seas beyond? 
 "What will you do, love, when — ' " 
 
 "Stop thief!— stop thief!" cried the doctor. "Why, 
 you are robbing the poet of his reputation as fast as you 
 can. You don't attend to the rhythm of those lines — ^you 
 don't give the ringing of the verse." 
 
 " That's just what I have said in other words," said 
 Fanny. " When sung to the melody, they are smooth." 
 
 " But a good reader, Miss Dawson," said the doctor, 
 " will read verse with the proper accent, just as a mu- 
 sician would divide it into bars; but my friend Randal 
 there, although he can tell a good story and hit off prose
 
 HANDY ANDT. 35 1 
 
 very well, has no more notion of rhythm or poetry than 
 pew beer has of a holiday/' 
 
 " And why, pray, has not new beer a notion of a hoH- 
 day?'^ 
 
 " Because, sir, it works of a Sunday/' 
 
 *' Your beer may be new, doctor, but your Joke is not — 
 I have seen it before in some old form." 
 
 " Well, sir, if I found it in its old form, like a hnre, and 
 
 started it fresh, it may do for folks to run after as well as 
 
 anything else. But you sha'n't escape your misdemeanor 
 
 in mauling those verses as you have done, by finding fault 
 
 ■ with my joke redevivus. You read those line3, sir, like a 
 
 * bellman, without any attention to meter.'' 
 
 " To be sure," said Father Phil, who had been listening 
 for some time; " they have a ring in them — " 
 
 " Like a pig's nose," said the doctor. 
 
 " Ah, be aisy," said Father Phil. "I say they have a 
 ring in them like an owld Latin canticle — 
 
 " ' What wile you do, love, when I am go-ing, 
 With white sail/o?c-ing, 
 
 The sa3's he-yond f 
 
 That's it!" 
 
 "To be sure," said the doctor. " I vote for the Fa- 
 ther's reading them out on the spot." 
 
 " Pray, do. Mister Blake," said Fanny. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Dawson, what have I to do with reading love 
 verses?' ' 
 
 "Take the book, sir," said Growling, " and show me 
 you have some faith in your own sajdngs, by obeying a lady 
 directly." 
 
 " Pooh! pooh!" said the priest. 
 
 " You won't refuse me?" said Fanny, in a coaxing tone. 
 
 " My dear Miss Dawson!" said the padre. 
 
 *' Father Phil!" said Fanny, with one of her rosy 
 smiles. 
 
 "Oh, wow! wow! wow!" ejaculated the priest, in an 
 amusing embarrassment, " I see you will make me do 
 whatever you like." So Father Phil gave the rare exam- 
 ple of a man acting up to his own theory, and could not 
 resist the demand that came from a pretiy mouth. He 
 took the book and read the lines with much feeling, but
 
 352 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 with an observance of rhythm so grotesque, that it must b8 
 given in his own manner. 
 
 "WHAT WILL YOU DO, LOVE? 
 I. 
 
 " What will you do, love, when I am go-iag. 
 
 With white sail flow-mg, 
 
 The seas be yandf 
 What will you do, love, when waves Ax-vide us, 
 And friends may chide us. 
 
 For being fond?" 
 
 " Though waves di-vide us, and friends be chiUmg, 
 
 In faith a M-ding, 
 
 I'll still be true; 
 And I'll pray for thee on the stormy ocean. 
 In deep de-w-tion, — 
 
 That's wlmt I'll del" 
 
 u. 
 
 ** What would you do, love, if distant fo'-dings 
 
 Thy fond con-^-dings 
 
 Should under- wzTie.' 
 And I a-5t-ding 'neath sultry skies, 
 
 Should think other eyes 
 
 Were as bright as thine f* 
 
 ** Oh, name it not; though guilt and shame 
 
 Were on thy name, 
 
 I'd still be true; 
 But that heart of thine, should another share it, 
 I could not bear it; — 
 
 What would I do?" 
 
 III. 
 
 ** What would you do, when, home re-turnmg. 
 
 With hopes high burning. 
 
 With wealth for you-^ 
 If my bark that bound-ed o'er ioxeignfoam. 
 
 Should be lost near homQ, — 
 
 Ah, what woulc you dot** 
 
 " So thou wert spar-6., I'd bless the m,or-rovf. 
 
 In want and sor-rovt. 
 
 That left me you; 
 ind I'd welcome thee from the wasting ^7-low, 
 My heart thy pil\o-^\ — 
 
 That's w/iaC I'd do!"» 
 
 * Note to the third edition. — The foregoing dialogue and 
 Moriarly',s caDtious remarks were meant, when ihej appeared in the
 
 HANDY AITDY. 353 
 
 ** Well done, padre!" said the doctor; " with good em- 
 phasis and discretion/' 
 
 "And now, my dear Miss Dawson," said Father Phil, 
 *' since Fve read the lines at your high bidding, will you 
 sing them for me at my humble asking?" 
 
 "Very antithetically put, indeed,' ' said Fanny; "but 
 you must excuse me." 
 
 " You said there was a tune to it?" 
 
 " Yes; but I promised Captain Moriarty to sing him 
 this," said Fanny, going over to the piano-forte, and laying 
 her hand on an open music-book. 
 
 " Thanks, Miss Dawson," said Moriarty, following fast. 
 
 Now, it was not that Fanny Dawson liked the captain 
 that she was going to sing the song; but she thought he 
 had been rather " mobbed " by the doctor and ih.e jJadre 
 about the reading of the verses, and it was her good breed- 
 ing which made her pay this little attention to the worsted 
 party. She poured forth her sweet voice in a simple mel- 
 ody to the following words: 
 
 SAY NOT MY HEART IS COLD. 
 
 I, 
 
 '* Say not my heart is cold. 
 
 Because of a silent tonguel 
 The lute of faultless mold 
 
 In silence oft hath hung. 
 The fountain soonest spent 
 
 Doth babble down the steep; 
 But the stream that ever went 
 
 Is silent, strong, and deep. 
 
 II. 
 " The charm of a secret life 
 
 Is given to choicest things : — 
 
 first edition, as a hit at a certain small critic— a would-be song- writer— 
 who does ill-natured articles for the Reviews, and expressed himself 
 very contemptuously of my songs because of their simplicity; or, 
 as he was pleased to phrase it, "I had a knack of putting common 
 things together." The song was written to illustrate mj' belief that 
 the most commonplace expression, appropriately applied, may suc- 
 cessfully serve the purposes of the lyric; and here experience has 
 proved me right, for this very song of " What will you do?" (con- 
 taining within it the other commonplace, "That's what I'd do") 
 has been received with special favor by the public, whose long-con- 
 tinued good-will toward my compositions generally I gralefully 
 acknowledge,
 
 ■i54 HANDY AKDY. 
 
 Of flowers, the fragrance rife 
 Is wafted on viewless winga; 
 
 We see uot the charmed air 
 Bearing some witching sound; 
 
 And ocean deep is where 
 The pearl of price is found. 
 
 III. 
 
 " Where are the stars by day? 
 
 They burn, though all unseenl 
 And love of purest ray 
 
 Is like the stars, I ween: 
 Unmark'd is the gentle light 
 
 When the sunshine of joy appears. 
 But ever, in sorrow's night, 
 
 'Twill glitter upon thy tears!" 
 
 « 
 
 Well, Eandal, does that poem satisfy your critical 
 taste? — of the singing there can be but one opinion." 
 
 " Yes, I think it pretty," said Moriarty; " but there is 
 one word in the last verse I object to.*^ 
 
 " Which is that?" inquired Growling. 
 
 *' Ween," said the other; " ' the stars, I ween,' I ob- 
 ject to. " 
 
 " Don't you see the meaning of that?" inquired the 
 doctor. *' I think it is a very happy allusion." 
 
 " I don't see any allusion whatever," said the critic. 
 
 *' Don't you see the poet alluded to the stars in the 
 milky way, and says, therefore, ' The stars I wean 9' " 
 
 " Bah! bah! doctor," exclaimed tlie critical captain; 
 ** you are in one of your quizzing moods to-night, and 'tis 
 in vain to expect a serious answer from you." He turned 
 on his heel as he spoke, and went away. 
 
 '' Moriarty, you know. Miss Dawson, is a man who 
 affects a horror of puns, and therefore I always punish him 
 with as many as I can," said tlie doctor, who was left by 
 Moriarty' s sudden pique to the enjoyment of a pleasant 
 jhat with Fanny, and he was sorry when the hour arrived 
 which disturbed it by the breaking up of the party and the 
 departure of the guests. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Wfen" the Widow Rooney was forcibly ejected from the 
 house of Mrs James Casey, and i'uund that Andy waa not
 
 HANDY ANDY. 355 
 
 the possessor of that lady's charms, she posted off to Neck- 
 or-nothi ng Hall, to hear the full and ti'ue account of the 
 transaction from Andy himself. On arriving at the old 
 iron gate, and pulling the loud bell, she was spoken to 
 through the bars by the savage old janitor and told to 
 "go out o' that/' Mrs. Rooney thought fate was using 
 her hard in decreeing she was to receive denial at every 
 door, and endeavored to obtain a parley with the gate- 
 keeper, to which he seemed no way inclined. 
 
 *' My name's Eooney, sir." 
 
 "There's plenty bad o' the name," was the civil re- 
 joinder. 
 
 " And my son's in Squire O'Grady's sarvice, sir." 
 
 " Oh — ^you're the mother of the beauty we call Handy, 
 
 " Yis, sir." 
 
 *' Well, he left the sarvice yistherday." 
 
 " Is it lost the place?" 
 
 "Yis." 
 
 " Oh, dear! Ah, sir, let me up to the house and spake 
 to his honor, and may be he'll take back the boy. " 
 
 "He doesn't want any more servants at all — for he's 
 dead. " 
 
 " is it Squire 0' Grady dead?" 
 
 " Ay — did you never hear of a dead Squire before?" 
 
 " What did he die of, sir?" 
 
 "Find out," said the sulky brute, walking back into 
 his den. It was true — the renowned 0' Grady was no 
 more. The fever which had set in from his " broiled 
 bones," which he tvould have in spite of anybody, was 
 found difficult of abatement; and the impossibility of keep- 
 ing him quiet, and his fits of passion, and consequent fresh 
 supplies of " broiled bones," rendered the malady unman- 
 ageable; and the very day after Andy had left the house 
 the fever took a bad turn, and in four-and-twenty hours 
 the stormy 0' Grady was at peace. 
 
 What a sudden change fell upon the house! All the 
 wedding paraphernalia which had been brought down lay 
 neglected in the rooms where it had been the object of the 
 preceding day's admiration. 
 
 The deep, absorbing, silent grief of the wife, the more 
 ttudible sorrow of the girls, the subdued wilduess of tlie
 
 856 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 reckless boys, as they trod silently past the chamber where 
 they no longer might dread reproof for their noise, all this 
 was less touching than the effect the event had upon the 
 old dowager mother. While the senses of others were 
 stunned by the blow, hers became awakened by the shock; 
 all her self-aberration passed away, and she sat in intel- 
 lectual self-possession by the side of her son's death-bed, 
 which she never left until he was laid in his coffin. He 
 was the first and last of her sons. She had now none but 
 grandchildren to look upon — the intermediate generation 
 had passed away,^ and the gap yawned fearfully before her. 
 It restored her, for the time, perfectly to her senses; and 
 she gave the necessary directions on the melancholy occa- 
 sion, and superintended all the sad ceremonials befitting 
 the time, with a calm and dignified resignation which im- 
 pressed all around her with wonder and respect. 
 
 Superadded to the dismay which the death of the head of 
 a family produces was the terrible fear which existed that 
 'Grady's body would be seized for debt — a barbarous 
 practice, which, shame to say, is still permitted. This 
 fear made great precaution necessary to prevent persons 
 approaching the house, and accounts for the extra gruff- 
 ness of the gate porter. The wild body-guard of the wild 
 chief was on doubly active duty; and after four-and-twenty 
 hours had passed over the reckless boys, the interest they 
 took in sharing and directing this watch and ward seemed 
 to outweigh all sorrowful consideration for the death of 
 their father. As for Gustavus, the consciousness of being 
 now the master of Neck-or-nothing Hall was apparent in 
 a boy not yet fifteen ; and not only in himself, but in the 
 gray- headed retainers about him, this might be seen : there 
 was a shade more of deference — the boy was merged in 
 *' the young master. " 
 
 But we must leave the house of mourning for the pres- 
 ent, and follow the Widow Rooney, who, as she tramped 
 her way homeward, was mcreasing in hideousness of visage 
 every hour. Her nose was twice its usual dimensions, and 
 one eye was perfectly useless in showing her the road. At 
 last, however, as evening was closing, she reached her 
 cabin, and there was Andy, arrived before her, and telling 
 Oonah, his cousin, all his misadventures of the preceding 
 day. 
 
 The history was stopped for a while by their mutual ex-
 
 HANDY ANDY. 357 
 
 planations and condolences with Mrs. Eooney, on the 
 " cruel way her poor face was used/' 
 
 " And who done it all?'' said Oonah. 
 
 " Who but that born devil, Matty Dwyer— and sure they 
 towld me you were married to her," said she to Andy. 
 
 " So I was," said Andy, beginning the account of hia 
 misfortunes afresh to his mother, who from time to time 
 would break in with indiscriminate maledictions on Andy, 
 as well as his forsworn damsel; and when the account was 
 ended., she poured out a torrent of abuse upon her un- 
 fortunate forsaken son, which riyeted him to the floor in 
 utter amazement. 
 
 *' I thought I'd get pity here, at all events," said poor 
 Andy; " but instead o' that it's the worst word and the 
 £ardest name in your jaw you have for me. " 
 
 " And sarve you right, you dirty cur," said his mother. 
 " I ran off like a fool when I heerd of your good fortune, 
 and see the condition that baggage left me in — my teeth 
 knocked in and my eye knocked out, and all for your 
 foolery, because you couldn't keep what you got." 
 
 " Sure, mother, I tell you — " 
 
 *' Howld your tongue, you omadliaun! And then I go 
 to Squire 0' Grady's to look for you, and there I hear you 
 lost that place too." 
 
 " Faix, it's little loss," said Andy. 
 
 " That's all you know about it, you goose; you lose the 
 place just when the man's dead andj'ou'd have had a shuit 
 o' mournin'. Oh, you are the most misfortunate divil, 
 Andy Eooney, this day in Ireland— why did I rear you at 
 all?" 
 
 " Squire 'Grady dead!" said Andy, in surprise and 
 also with regret for his late master. 
 
 " Yis — and you've lost the mournin' — augh!" 
 
 " Oh, the poor Squire I" said Andy. 
 
 "The illigant new clothes!" grumbled Mrs. Eooney. 
 " And then luck tumbles into your way such as man never 
 had; without a place, or a rap to bless yourself with, you 
 get a rich man's daughter for your wife, and you let her 
 slip through your fingers. " 
 
 " How could I help it?" said Andy. 
 
 " Augh! you bothered the job just the way you do every- 
 tlling," said his mother. 
 
 ''Sure I was civil-spoken to her."
 
 358 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 €( 
 
 Augh!** said his mother. 
 
 *' And took no liberty." 
 
 *' You goose!" 
 
 ** And called her miss." 
 
 *' Oh, indeed you missed it altogether." 
 
 " And said I wasnH desarvin' of her.'* 
 
 " That was thrue — but yoii should not Jiave iowld hef 
 so. Make a woman think you're betther than her, and 
 she'll like you." 
 
 " And sure, when I endayvored to make myself agreea- 
 ble to her — " 
 
 " Endayvored !'' repeated the old woman contemptu- 
 ously. ^^ Endayvored, indeed! Why didn't you make 
 yourself agreeable at once, you poor dirty goose — no, but 
 you went sneaking about it — I know as well as if I was 
 looking at you — you went sneakin' and snivelin' until the 
 girl took a disgust to you; for there's nothing a woman 
 despises so much as shilly-shallying." 
 
 Sure, you won't dear my defince," said Andy. 
 
 " Oh, indeed you're betther at defince than attack/* 
 said his mother. 
 
 " Sure, the first little civil 'ty I wanted to pay to her, she 
 took up the three-legged stool to me. " 
 
 " The divil mend you! And what civil' ty did you offer 
 her?" 
 
 " I made a grab at her cap, and I thought she'd have 
 brained me." 
 
 Oonah set up such a shout of laughter at Andy's notion 
 of civility to a girl, that the conversation was stopped for 
 some time, and her aunt remonstrated with her at her want 
 of common sense; or, as she said, hadn't she " more da-' 
 cency than to laugh at the poor fool's nonsense?" I 
 
 "What could I do agen the three-legged stool?" said 
 Andy. 
 
 '' Where was your oivn legs, and your own arms, and 
 your own eyes, and your own tongue, eh?" 
 
 " And sure I tell you it was all ready con thrived, and 
 James Casey was sent for, and came." 
 
 " Yis," said the mother, *' but not for a long time, you 
 towld me yourself; and what were you doing all that time? 
 Sure, supposing you wor only a new acquaintance, any man 
 worth a day's mate would have discoorsed her over in the 
 time ami made her sinsible he was the best of husbands."
 
 HANDY AXDY. 359 
 
 *'It€ll you she wouldn't let me have her ear at all," 
 said Andy. 
 
 " Nor her cap either/' said Oonah, laughing. 
 
 " And then Jim Casey kem/' 
 
 *' And why did you let him in?'* 
 
 '* It was she let him in, I tell you." 
 
 " And why did 5'ou let her? He was on the wrong side 
 of the door — that's the outside ; and you on the right — 
 that's the inside; and it was your house, and she was your 
 wife, and you were her masther, and you had the rights of 
 the Church, and the rights of the law, and all the rights 
 on your side; barrin' right ray son — that you never had; 
 and sure without that, what's the use of all the other rights 
 in the world?" 
 
 " Sure, hadn't he his friends, s throng, outside?'* 
 
 " No matther, if the door wasn't oj^ened to them, for 
 the/i YOU would have had a stronger friend than any o* 
 them present among them." 
 
 " Who?" inquired Andy. 
 
 " The hangman," answered liis mother; " for breaking 
 doors is hanging matther; and I say the presence of the 
 hangman's always before people when they have such a 
 job to do, and makes them think twice sometimes before 
 they smash once; and so you had only to keep one woman's 
 hands quiet." 
 
 " Faix, some of them would smash a door as soon as 
 not," said Andy. 
 
 '•' Well, then, you'd have the satisfaction of hanging 
 them," said the mother, " and that would be some con- 
 solation. But even as it is, I'll have law for it — I will— 
 for the property is yours, anj'how, though the girl is gone 
 — and indeed a brazen baggage she is, and is mighty heavy 
 in the hand. Oh, my poor eye! it's like a coal of fire — 
 but sure it was worth the risk living with her for the sake 
 of the purty property. And sure I was thinkin' what a 
 pleasure it would be living with you, and tachin' your wife 
 nousekeepin', and bringing up the young turkeys and the 
 childhre — but, och hone, you'll never do a bit o' good, you 
 that got sitch careful bringin' up, Andy Rooney! Didn't 
 I tache you manners, you dirty hanginbone blackguard? 
 Didn't i tache you your blessed religion? may the divil 
 sweep you! Did I ever prevent you from sharing the lav- 
 ings of the pratees with the pig? and didn't you often claue
 
 360 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 out the pot with him? and you're no good afther all. I'va 
 turned my honest penny by the pig, but I'll never maka 
 my money of you, Andy Eooney!" 
 
 There were some minutes' silence after this eloquent out« 
 break of Andy's mother, which was broken at last by Andj 
 uttering a long sigh and an ejaculation. 
 
 " Och! it's a fine thing to be a gintleman," said Andy. 
 
 " Cock you up!" said his mother. " Maybe it's a gin- 
 tleman you want to be; what puts that in your head, you 
 omadliawn 9" 
 
 " Why, because a gintleman has no hardships, compared 
 with one of uz. Sure, if a gintleman was married, hia 
 wife wouldn't be tuk off from him the way mine was.'' 
 
 " Not so soon, maybe," said the mother, dryly. 
 
 " And if a gintleman brakes a horse's heart, he's only a 
 * boivid rider, ' while a poor sarvant is a ' careless black- 
 guard ' for only taking a sweat out of him. If a gintle- 
 man dhrinks till he can't see a hole in a laddher, he's only 
 *' fres.li' but ' dlirunh ' is the word for a poor man. And 
 if a gintleman kicks up a row, he's a ' fine sperited fellow,' 
 while a poor man is a ' disordherly vagabone ' for the 
 same; and the justice axes the one to dinner and sends th' 
 other to jail. Oh, faix, the law is a dainty lady; she takes 
 people by the hand who can alford to wear gloves, but peo- 
 ple with brown fists must keep their distance." 
 
 " I often remark," said his mother, *' that fools spake 
 mighty smsible betimes; but their wisdom all goes with 
 their gab. Why didn't you take a betther grip of your 
 luck when you had it? You're wishing you wor a gintle- 
 man, and yet when you had the best part of a gintleman 
 (the property, I mane) put into your way, you let it slip 
 through your fingers; and afther lettin' a fellow take a 
 rich wife from you and turn you out of your own house, 
 you sit down on a stool there, and begin to wisli indeed! 
 you sneakin' fool — wish, indeed! Och! if you wish with 
 one hand, and wash with th' other, which will be clane 
 first— «h?" 
 
 " What could I do agen eight?" asked Andy. 
 
 " Why did you let them in, I say again?" said the 
 mother, quickly. 
 
 "Sure the blame wasn't with me," said Andy, "but 
 with — '■ ' 
 
 '' Whisht, whisht, you goose!" said his mother. " Av
 
 HANDY ANDY. 361 
 
 course >ouni blame every one and everything but yourself 
 — ' The losing horse blames the saddle.' " 
 
 " Well, maybe it's all for the best,^' said Andy, *' afther 
 alL'^ 
 
 " Augh, howld your tongue!" 
 
 ** And if it v)asn't to be;, how could it be?" 
 
 "Listen to him!" 
 
 " And Providence is over us all." 
 
 ** Oh! yis!'^ said the mother. " AVheu fools make mis- 
 takes they lay the blame on Providence. How have you 
 the impidence to talk o' Providence in that manner? I'll 
 tell you where the Providence was. Providence sent you 
 to Jack Dwyer^s, and kep Jim Casey away, and put the 
 anger into owld Jack^s heart — that's what the Providence 
 did! and made the opening for you to sj)ake up, and gave 
 you a wife — a wife \i\i\i property ! Ah, there's where the 
 Providence was! and you were the masther of a snug house 
 — that was Providence! And wouldn't myself have been 
 the one to be helping you in the farm — rearing the powlts, 
 milkin' the cow, makin' the iligant butther, with lavings 
 of butthermilk for the pigs — the sow thriving, and the 
 cocks and hens cheering your heart with their cacklin' — 
 the hank o' yarn on the wheel, and a hank of ingins up the 
 chimble}' — oh! there's where the Providence would have 
 been — that would have been Providence indeed ! but never 
 tell me that Providence turned you out of the house; thai 
 was your owti goostherumfoodle." 
 
 " Can't he take the law o' them, aunt?" inquired Oonah. 
 
 " To be sure he can — and shall, too," said the mother. 
 " I'll be off to 'Torney Murphy to-morrow; I'll pursue her 
 for my eye, and Andy for the property, and I'll put them 
 all in Chancery, the villains!" 
 
 " It's Newgate they ought to be put in,*' said Andy. 
 
 " Tut, you fool. Chancery is worse than Newgate; for 
 people sometimes get out of Newgate, but they never get 
 out of Chancery, I hear." 
 
 As Mrs. Eooney spoke, the latch of the door was raised , 
 and a miserably clad woman entered, closed the door im- 
 mediately after her, and placed the bar against it. Tho 
 action attracted the attention of all the inmates of the 
 house, for the doors of the peasantry are universally " left 
 on the latch," and never secured against intrusioii until the 
 family go to bed.
 
 362 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 " God save all here!'^ said the woman, as she approached 
 the fire. 
 
 '' Oh, is that yon, ragged Nance ?'^ said Mrs. Rooney, 
 for that was the unenviable but descriptive title the new- 
 comer was known by: and though she knew it for her 
 aoubriqnet, yet she also knew Mrs. Rooney would not call 
 her by it if she were not in an ill temper, so she began 
 humbly to explain the cause of her visit, when Mrs. Rooney 
 broke in gruffly — 
 
 " Oh, you always make out a good rayson for coming; 
 but we have nothing for you to-night.'* 
 
 '' Throth, you do me wrong,'' said the beggar, ** if you 
 think I came shoolmg.* It's only to keep harm from the 
 innocent girl here. " 
 
 " Arrah, what harm would happen her, woman?" re- 
 turned the widow, savagely, rendered more morose by the 
 humble bearing of her against whom she directed her 
 severity; as if she got more angry the less the poor creature 
 would give her cause to justify her harshness. " Isn't 
 she undher my roof here?" 
 
 " But how long may she be left there?*' asked the 
 woman, significantly. 
 
 " What do you mane, woman?'* 
 
 ** I mane there's a plan to carry her off from you to- 
 night." 
 
 Oonah grew pale with true terror, and the widow 
 screeched, after the more approved manner of elderly ladies 
 making believe they are very much shocked, tiU Nance 
 reminded her that crying would do no good, and that it 
 was requisite to make some preparation against the ap- 
 proaching danger. Various plans were hastily suggested, 
 and as hastily relinquished, till Nance advised a measure 
 which was deemed the best. It was to dress Andy in 
 female attire and let him be carried off in place of the girl. 
 Andy roared with laughter at the notion of being made a 
 girl of, and said the trick would instantly be seen through. 
 
 " Not if you act your part well; just keep down the 
 giggle, jewel, and put on a moderate phillelew, and do the 
 thing nice and steady, and you'll be the saving of your 
 cousm here. " 
 
 *' You may deceive them with the dhress; and I may do 
 
 * Going on chance Jiere and there, to pick up what one can.
 
 HAXDT A?rDY. 303 
 
 a bit of a small sMUoo, like a colleen in disthress, and that's 
 all very well," said Andy, " as far as seeing and hearing 
 goes; but when they come to grip me, sure they'll find out 
 in a minute." 
 
 " We'll stuff you out well with rags and sthraw, and 
 they'll never know the differ — besides, remember, tlie fel- 
 low that wants a girl never comes for her himself,* but 
 sends his friends for her, and they won't know the differ- 
 besides, they're all dhrunk. " 
 
 " How do you know?" 
 
 " Because they're always dhrunk — that same crew; and 
 if they're not dhrunk to-night, it's the first time in their 
 lives they ever were sober. So make haste, now, and put 
 off your coat, till we make a purty young colleen out o' 
 you. ' ' 
 
 It occurred now to the widow that it was a service of 
 great danger Andy was called on to perform; and with all 
 her abuse of " omadhaun," she did not like the notion of 
 putting him in the way of losing his life, perhaps. 
 
 " They'll murdher the boy, may be, when they find out 
 the chate," said the widow. 
 
 " Not a bit,'^ said Nance. 
 
 *' And suppose they did," said Andy, '* I'd rather die, 
 sure, than the disgrace should fall upon Oonah, there. ' ' 
 
 " God bless you, Andy dear!" said Oonah. " Sure, you 
 have the kind heart, anyhow; but I wouldn't for the world 
 hurt or harm should come to you on my account." 
 
 " Oh, don't be afeard!" said Andy, cheerily; " divil a 
 hair I value all they can do; so dhress me up at once." 
 
 After some more objections on the part of his mother, 
 which Andy overruled, the women all joined in making up 
 Andy into as tempting an imitation of feminality as they 
 could contrive; but to bestow the roundness of outline on 
 the angular form of Andy was no easy matter, and required 
 more rags than the house afforded, so some straw was in- 
 dispensable, which the pig's bed only could supply. In 
 the midst of their fears, the women wouid not help laugh- 
 ing as they effected some likeness to their own forms, with 
 their stuffing and padding; but to carry off the width of 
 Andy's shoulders required a very ample and voluptuous 
 outline indeed, and Andy could not help wishing the stra* 
 
 * This is mostly the case.
 
 364 HANDY AKDT. 
 
 was a little sweeter whicli they were packing under his 
 nose. At last^ however, after soaping down his straggling 
 hair on his forehead, and tying a bonnet upon his head to 
 shade his face as much as possible, the disguise was com- 
 pleted, and the next move was to put Oonah in a place of 
 safety. 
 
 " Get upon the hurdle iu the corner, under the thatch/' 
 said Nance. 
 
 *' Oh, I'd be afeard o' my life to stay in the house at 
 all.'' 
 
 " You'd be safe enough, I tell you/' said Nance; *' for 
 once they see that fine young woman there," pointing to 
 Andy, and laughing, " they'll be satisfied with the lob 
 we've made for them. " 
 
 Oonah still expressed her fear of remaining in the cabin. 
 
 " Then hide in the pratee-trench, behind the house." 
 
 " That's better," said Oonah. 
 
 "And now I must be going," said Nance; " for they 
 must not see me when they come. " 
 
 " Oh, don't leave me, Nance dear," cried Oonah, " for 
 I'm sure I'll faint with the fright when I hear them com- 
 ing, if some one is not with me. " 
 
 Nance yielded to Oonah 's fears and entreaties, and with 
 many a blessing and boundless thanks for the beggar- 
 woman's kindness, Oonah led the way to the little potato 
 garden at the back of the house, and there the women 
 squatted themselves in one of the trenches and awaited the 
 impending event. 
 
 It was not long in arriving. The tramp of approaching 
 horses at a sharp pace rang through the stillness of the 
 night, and the women, crouching fiat beneath the over- 
 spreading branches of the potato tops, lay breathless in the 
 bottom of the trench, as the riders came up to the widow's 
 cottage and entered. There they found the widow and her 
 pseudo niece sitting at the fire ; and three drunken vaga- 
 bonds, for the fourth was holding the horses outside, cut 
 some fantastic capers round the cabin, and making a mock 
 obeisance to the widow, the spokesman addressed her with: 
 
 "Your sarvant, ma'am!" 
 
 " Who are yiz at all, gintlemin, that comes to my plactf 
 at this time o' night, and what's your business?" 
 
 " We want tlie loan o' that young woman there, 
 ma'ara," said the rufiian.
 
 HAl^DY AJS-DT. 365 
 
 Andy and his mother both uttered small squalls. 
 
 " And as for who we are, ma'am, we're the blessed soci- 
 ety of Saint Joseph, ma'am — our coat-of-arms is two jeads 
 upon one pillow, and our motty, ' Who's afraid?-— Hur- 
 roo!^ " shouted the savage, and he twirled his stick and 
 cut another caper. Then coming up to Andy, he addressed 
 him as " young woman," and said there was a fine strap- 
 ping fellow whose heart was breaking till he " rowled her 
 in his arms. " 
 
 Andy and the mother both acted their parts very well. 
 He rushed to the arms of the old woman for protection, 
 and screeched small, while the widow shouted '' millia 
 murtJier!" at the top of her voice, and did not give up her 
 hold of the make-believe young woman until her cap was 
 torn iialf off, and her hair streamed about her face. She 
 called on all tlie saints in the calendar, as she knelt in the 
 middle of the floor and rocked to and fro, with her clasped 
 hands raised to heaven, calUng down curses on the " vil- 
 lains and robbers " that were tearing her child from her, 
 while they threatened to stop her breath altogether if she 
 did not make less noise, and in the midst of the uproar 
 dragged off Andy, whose struggles and despair might have 
 excited the suspicion of soberer men. They lifted him up 
 on a stout horse, in front of the most powerful man of the 
 party, who gripped Andy hard round the middle and 
 pushed his horse to a hand gallop, followed by the rest of 
 the pai;iy. The proximity of Andy to his cavaliero made 
 the latter sensible to ttie bad odor of the pig^s bed, which 
 formed Andy's luxurious bust and bustle; but he attributed 
 the unsavory scent to a bad breath on the lady's part, and 
 would sometimes address his charge thus: 
 
 " Young woman, if j^ou plaze, would you turn your lace 
 th' other way;" then in a side sohloquy, " By Jaker, I 
 wondher at Jack's taste — she's a fine lump of a girl, but 
 her breath is murdher intirely — phew— young woman, tuna 
 away your face, or by this and that I'll fall off the horse. 
 I've heerd of a bad breath that might knock a man down, 
 but I never met it till now. Oh, murdher! it's worse it's 
 growm' — I suppose 'tis the bumpin' she's gettin^ that 
 shakes the breath out of her sthrong— oh, there it is again 
 —phew!" 
 
 It was as well, perhaps, for the prosecution of the deceit, 
 that the distaste the fellow conceived for his charge pre-
 
 366 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 vented any closer approaches to Andy's visage, which might 
 have dispelled the ilhision iinder which he still pushed for- 
 ward to the hills and bumped poor Andy toward the termi- 
 nation of his ride. Keeping a sharp lookout as he went 
 along, Andy soon was able to perceive they were making 
 for that wild part of tlie hills where he had discovered the 
 private still on the night of his temporary fright and im- 
 aginary rencounter with the giants, and the conversation he 
 partly overheard all recurred to him, and he saw at once 
 that Oonah was the person alluded to, whose name he could 
 not catch, a circumstance that cost him many a conjecture 
 in the interim. This gave him a clew to the persons into 
 whose power he was about to fall, after having so far de- 
 feated their scheme, and he saw he should have to deal 
 with very desperate and lawless parties. Kemembering, 
 moreover, the herculean frame of the inamorato, he calcu- 
 lated on an awful thrashing as the smallest penalty he 
 should have to pay for deceiving him, but was, neverthe- 
 less, determined to go through the adventure with a good 
 heart, to make deceit serve his turn as long as he might, 
 and at last, if necessary, to make the best fight he could. 
 
 As it happened, luck favored Andy in his adventure, for 
 the hero ot the blunderbuss (and he, it will be remembered, 
 was the love-sick gentleman) drank profusely on the night 
 in question, quaffing deep potations to the health of his 
 Oonah, wishing luck to his friends and speed to their 
 horses, and eveiy now and then ascending the ladder from 
 the cave, and looking out for the approach of the party. 
 On one of these occasions, from the unsteadiness of the 
 ladder, or himself, or perhaps both, his foot slipped, and 
 he came to the ground with a heavy fall, in which his head 
 received so severe a blow that he became insensible, and it 
 was some time before his sister, who was an inhabitant of 
 this den, could restore liim to consciousness. This she did, 
 however, and the savage recovered all the senses the whisky 
 had left him; but still the stunning elf ect of the fall cooled 
 his courage considerably, and, as it were, " bothered " him 
 so, that he felt much less of the " gallant gay Lothario " 
 than he had done before the accident. 
 
 The tramp of horses was heard overhead ere long, and 
 Shan More, or Big John, as the Hercules was called, told 
 Bridget to go up to " the darlin'," and help her down. 
 
 " For that's a blackguard laddher," said he; " it turned
 
 HANDY ANDY. 3G? 
 
 undher mr like an eel, bad luck to it! tell her I'd go tip 
 myaelf , only the ground is slipping from undher me— and 
 the laddher— " 
 
 Bridget went off, leaving Jack growling forth anathemas 
 against the ground and the ladder, and returned speedily 
 with the mock-lady and her attendant squires. 
 
 *' Oh, my jewel!" roared Jack, as he caught sight of his 
 prize. Ue scrambled up on his legs, and made a rush at 
 Andy, who imitated a woman's scream and fright at the 
 expected embrace; but it was with much greater difficulty 
 he suppressed his laughter at the headlong fall with which 
 Big Jack plunged his head into a heap of turf,* and hugged 
 a sack of malt which lay beside it. 
 
 Andy endeavored to overcome the provocation to merri' 
 rnent by screeching; and as Bridget caught the sound of 
 tliis tendency toward laughter between the screams, she 
 thought it was the commencement of a fit of hysterics, and 
 it accounted all the better for Andy's extravagant antics. 
 
 " Oh, the craythur is frightened out ol her life!'' said 
 Bridget. " Leave her to me," said slie to the men. 
 " There, jewel machree!" she continued to Andy, sooth- 
 ingly, "don't take on you that way — don't be afeerd. 
 you're among friends — Jack is oulydhrunk dhrinking your 
 health, darlin', but he sulores you." Andy screeched. 
 
 " But don't be afeerd, you'll be thrated tender, and 
 he'll marry you, darlhi', like an honest woman I" 
 
 Andy squalled. 
 
 *' But not to-night, jewel — don't he frightened.''* 
 
 Andy gave a heavy sob at the respite. 
 
 *' Boys, will you lift Jack out o' the turf, and carry him 
 up into the air? 'twill be good for him, and thisdacent girl 
 will sleep with me to-night. " 
 
 Andy couldn't resist a laugh at this, and Bridget feared 
 the girl was going off into hysterics again. 
 
 " Aisy, dear — aisy — sure you'll be safe with me." 
 
 *'0w! ow! ow!" shouted Andy. 
 
 ** Oh, murther!'' cried Bridget, " the sterricks will be 
 the death of her J You blackguards, you frightened her 
 coming up here, J'm sure." 
 
 The men swore they behaved in the genteelest manner. 
 
 ' Peat.
 
 
 368 HAKDY ANDY. 
 
 " Well, talre away Juck, aud the girl shall have share ol 
 my bed for this night. " 
 
 Audy shook internally with laughter. 
 
 ' Dear, dear, how she thrimbles!" cried Bridget. 
 
 Don't be so frightful, lai/na machree — there, now — 
 they^re taking Jack away, and you're alone with myself 
 am! will have a nice sleep. '* 
 
 The men all the time were removing Shan More to upper 
 air; and the last sounds they heard as they left the cave 
 were the coaxing tones of Bridget's voice, inviting Audy, 
 in the softest words, to go to bed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 The workshops of Neck-or-nothing Hall rang with the 
 sounds of occupation for two days after the demise of its 
 former master. The hoarse grating souml of the saw, the 
 whistling of the plane, and the stroke of the mallet denoi - 
 ed the presence of the carpenter; and the sliarper clink of 
 a hammer told of old Fogy, the family " milliner," beiii*; 
 at work; but it was not on millinery Fogy was now em- 
 ployed, though neither was it legitimate tinker's work. 
 He was scrolling out with his shears, and beating into 
 form, a plate of tin, to serve for the shield on O'Grady's 
 coffin, which was to record his name, age, and day of de- 
 parture; and this was the second plate on which the old 
 man worked, for one was already finished in the corner. 
 Why are there two coffin-plates? Enter the carpenter's 
 shop, and you will see the answer in two coffins the car- 
 penter has nearly completed. But why two coffins for one 
 death? Listen, reader, to a hit of Irish strategy. 
 
 It has been stated that an apprehension was entertained 
 of a seizure of the inanimate body of 'Grady for the debts 
 it had contracted in life, and the harpy nature of the 
 money-lender from whom this movement was dreaded war- 
 ranted the fear. Had 0' Grady been popular, such a meas- 
 ure on the part of a cruel creditor might have been defied, 
 as the surrounding peasantry would have risen en 7)msse to 
 prevent it; but the hostile position in which he had placed 
 himself toward the people alienated the natural affection 
 they are born with for their chiefs, and any partial defense 
 :lie few fierce retainers whom individual interest had at-
 
 HANDY ANDY. 369 
 
 iached to him could have made might have been insuffi- 
 cient; therefore, to save his father's remains from the ])oI- 
 hition (as the son considered) of a bailiff's touch, Gustavus 
 determined to achieve by stratagem what he could not ac- 
 complish by force, and had two coffins constructed, the one 
 to be mied with stones and straw, and sent out by the front 
 entrance with all the demonstration of a real funeral, and 
 be given to the attack it was feared would be made upon 
 it; while the other, put to its legitimate use, should be 
 placed on a raft, and floated down the river to an ancient 
 fjurial-ground which lay some miles below on the opposite 
 bank. A facility for this was afl'orded by a branch of 
 the river running up into the domain, as it will be remem- 
 bered; and the scene of the bearish freaks played upon Fnr- 
 long was to witness a trick of a more serious nature. 
 
 While all these preparations were going forward, the 
 *' waking " w^as kept up in all the barbarous style of old 
 times; eating and drinking in profusion went on in the 
 house, and the kitchen of the hall rang with joviality. 
 The feats of sports and arms of the man who had passed 
 away v/ere lauded, and liis comjjarative achievements with 
 those of his progenitors gave rise to many a stirring anec- 
 dote; and bursts of barbarous exultation, or more barbar- 
 ous merriment, rang in the house of death. There was no 
 lack of whisky to fire the brains of these revelers, for the 
 standard of the measurement of family grandeur was, too 
 often, a liquid one in Ireland, even so recently as the time 
 we speak of; and the dozens of wine wasted during the life 
 it helped to shorten, and the posthumous gallons consumed 
 in toasting to the memory of the departed, Ave re among the 
 cherished remembrances of hereditary honor. " There 
 were two hogsheads of whisky drank at my father's wake!" 
 "was but a moderate boast of a true Irish squire, fifty years 
 ago. 
 
 And now the last night of the wake approached, and the 
 retainers tlironged to honor the obsequies of their departed 
 chief with an increased enthusiasm, which rose in propor- 
 tion as the whisky got low; and songs in praise of their 
 present occupation — that is — getting drunk — rang merrily 
 round, and the sports of the field and the sorrows and joys 
 of love resounded; in short, the ruling passions of life fig- 
 ured in rhyme and music in honor of this occasion of death 
 —and as death is the maker of widows, a very animated
 
 370 HANDY ANPT. 
 
 discussion on the subject of widowhood arose, which afford- 
 ed great scope for the rustic wits, and was crowned by the 
 song of ** Widow Machree " being universally called for by 
 the company; and a fine-looking fellow with a merry eye 
 and large white teeth, wliich he amply displayed by a wide 
 mouth, poured forth in cheery tones a pretty lively air 
 which suited well the humorous spirit of the words: — 
 
 "WIDOW MACHREE. 
 
 • Widow machree, it's no wonder you frown, 
 
 Ochhone! widow machree: 
 Faith, it ruins your looks, that same dirty black gowii« 
 
 Och hone ! widow machree. 
 How altered your hair, 
 With that close cap you wear — 
 'Tis destroying your hair 
 
 Which sliould be flowing free: 
 Be no longer a churl 
 Of its black silken curl, 
 
 Och hone! widow machree. 
 
 II. 
 
 " Widow machree, now the summer is come, 
 
 Och hone I widow machree : 
 When everything smiles, should a beauty look glumf 
 
 Och hone I widow machree. 
 See the birds go in pairs. 
 And the rabbits and hares — 
 Why even the bears 
 
 Now in couples agree. 
 And the mute little fish. 
 Though they can't spake, they wish, 
 
 Och hone ! widow machree. 
 
 in. 
 
 • Widow machree, and when winter comes in, 
 
 Och hone! widow machree. 
 To be poking the tire all alone is a. sin, 
 
 Ochhone! widow machree. 
 Sure the shovel and tongs 
 To each other belongs. 
 And the kettle sings songs 
 
 Full of family glee. 
 While alone with your cup, 
 lake a hermit you sup — 
 
 Och hone! widow machree.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 37 J 
 
 IV, 
 
 ' And how do you know, with the comforts I've towld, 
 
 Ocli hone! widow machree. 
 Bat you're keepinj; some poor fellow out in the cowld.. 
 
 Och hone! widow machree. 
 With such sins on your head, 
 Sure your peace would be fled, 
 Could you sleep in your bed, 
 
 Withoutthinking to see 
 Some ghost or some sprite. 
 That would wake you each night. 
 
 Crying,' Och hone! widow machree.* 
 
 " Then take my advice, darling widow machree, 
 
 Och hone! widow machree. 
 And with my advice, faith I wish you'd take me, 
 
 Och hone! widow machree. 
 You'd have me to desire 
 Then to sit by the fire; 
 And sure hope is no liar 
 
 In whispering to me 
 That the ghosts would depart, 
 "When you'd me near your heart, 
 
 Och hone! widow machree." 
 
 The singer was honored with a round of applause, and 
 his challenge for another lay was readily answered, and 
 mirth and music filled the night and ushered in the dawn 
 of the day which was to witness the melancholy sight of 
 the master of an ample mansion being made the tenant of 
 the " narrow house. ^^ 
 
 In the evening of that day, however, the wail rose loud 
 and long; the mirth which " the waking " permits had 
 passed away, and the nil can, or funeral cry, told that the 
 lifeless chief was being borne from his hall. That wild cry 
 was heard even by the party who were waiting to make 
 their horrid seizure, and for that party the stone-laden 
 coffin was sent with a retinue of mourners through the old 
 iron gate of the principal entrance, while the mortal re- 
 mains were borne b}' a smaller j^arty to the river inlet and 
 placed on the raft. Half an hour had witnessed a sham 
 fight on the part of 0' Grady's people with the bailiffs and 
 their followers, who made the seizure they intended, and 
 locked up their prize in an old barn to which it had beep 
 conveyed, until some engagement on the part of the heir 
 iboTild liberate it; while the aforesaid heirj as soon as the
 
 372 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 shadows of evening had shrouded the river in ohscurity. 
 conveyed the remains, which the myrmidons of the law 
 fancied they possessed, to its quiet and lonely resting-place. 
 The raft was taken in tow by a boat carrying two of the 
 boys, and pulled by four lusty retainers of the departed 
 chief, while Gustavus himself stood on the raft, astride 
 over the coffin, and with an eel-spear, which had afforded 
 him many a day^s sport, j^erformed the melancholy task of 
 guiding it. It was a strangely painful yet beautiful sight 
 to behold the graceful figure of the fine boy engaged in this 
 last sad duty; with dexterous energy he plied his spear, 
 now on this side and now on that, directing the course of 
 the raft, or clearing it from the flaggers which interrupted 
 its passage through the narrow inlet. This duty he had to 
 attend to for some time, even after leaving the little inlet; 
 for the river was much overgrown with flaggers at this 
 point, and the increasing darkness made the task more 
 difficult. 
 
 In the midst of all this action not one word was spoken ; 
 even the sturdy boatmen were mute, and the fall of the oar 
 in the rowlock, the plash of the water, and the crushing 
 sound of the yielding rushes as the " watery bier ^^ made 
 its way through them were the only sounds which broke 
 the silence. Still Gustavus betrayed no emotion; but by 
 the time they reached the open stream, and that his per- 
 sonal exertion was no longer required, a change came over 
 him. It was night — the measured beat of the oars sound- 
 ed like a knell to him — there was darkness above him and 
 death below, and he sunk down upon the coffin, and plung- 
 ing his face passionately between his hands, he wept bit- 
 terly. Sad were the thoughts that oppressed the brain and 
 wrung the heart of the high-spirited boy. He felt that his 
 dead father was escapmr/, as it were, to the grave — that 
 even death did not terminate the consequences of an ill- 
 spent life. He felt like a thief in the night, even in the 
 execution of his own stratagem, and the bitter thoughts of 
 that sad and solemn time wrought a potent spell over after- 
 years; that one hour of misery and disgrace influenced the 
 entire of a future life. 
 
 On a small hill overhanging the river was the ruin of an 
 ancient early temple of Christianity, and to its surround- 
 ing burial-ground a few of the retainers had been dis- 
 patched to prepare a ^ra\e. Tbpy were engaged in this
 
 HANDY ANDY. 373 
 
 task by the light of a torch made of bog-pine, when the 
 flicker' of the flame attracted the eye of a horseman v/lio 
 was riding slowly along the neighboring road. Wondering 
 what could be the cause of light in sucli a place, he leaped 
 the adjoining fence and rode up to the grave-yard. 
 
 " What are you doing here?" he said to the laborers. 
 They paused and looked up, and the flash of the torch fell 
 upon the features of Edward O'Connor. 
 
 " We're finishing your work," said one of the men with 
 malicious earnestness. 
 
 " My work?" repeated Edward. 
 
 " Yes," returned the man, more sternly than before — 
 **^this is the grave of 0' Grady." 
 
 The words went like an ice-bolt through Edward's heart, 
 and even by the torchlight the tormentor could see his vic- 
 tim grew livid. 
 
 The fellow who woimded so deeply one so generally be- 
 loved as Edward O'Connor was a thorough ruffian. His 
 answer to Edward's query sprung not from love of 
 C Grady, nor abhorrence of taking human life, but from 
 the opportunity of retort which the occasion oft'ered ujjon 
 one Avho had once checked him in an act of brutality. 
 
 Yet Edward O'Connor could not reply — it was a home 
 thrust. The death of 'Grady had weighed heavily 
 upon him; for though 0' Grady's wound had been given in 
 honorable combat, 2)rovoked by his own fury, and not pro- 
 ducing immediate death; though that death had super- 
 vened upon the subsequent intractability of the patient; 
 yet the fact that 0' Grady had never been '' up and doing " 
 since the duel tended to give the impression that his wound 
 was the remote if not the immediate cause of his death, and 
 this circumstance weighed heavily on Edward's spirits. 
 His friends told him he felt over-keenly upon the subject, 
 and that no one but himself could entertain a question of 
 his total innocence of 'Grady's death; but when from the 
 lips of a common peasant he got the answer he did, and 
 that beside the grave of his adversary, it w^ill not be won- 
 dered at that he reeled in his saddle. A cold shivering 
 «ckness came over him, and to avoid falling he alighted 
 and leaned for support against his horse, which stooped, 
 when freed from the restraint of the rein, to browse on the 
 rank verdure; and for a moment Edward envied the uncon-
 
 374 HAND^ AN'dY: 
 
 Bciousness of the animal against which he leaned. He 
 pressed his forehead against the saddle, and from the depth 
 of a bleeding heart came up an agonized exclamation. 
 
 A gentle hand was laid on his shoulder as he spoke, and, 
 turning round, he beheld Mr. Bermingham. 
 
 " What brings you here?" said the clergyman. 
 
 "Accident," answered Edward. "But why should 1 
 8ay accident? it is by a higher authority and a better — it is 
 the will of Heaven. It is meant as a bitter lesson to 
 human pride: we make for ourselves laws of honor, and 
 forget the laws of Cod!'^ 
 
 " Be calm, mj young friend,^' said the worthy pastor; 
 ** I can not wonder you feel deeply — but command your- 
 self. '^ He pressed Edward's hand as he spoke and left 
 him, for he knew that an agony so keen is not benefited by 
 companionship. 
 
 Mr. Bermingham was there by appointment to perform 
 the biu'ial-service, and he hiid not left Edward's side many 
 minutes when a long wild whistle from the waters announced 
 the arrival of the boat and raft, and the retainers ran down 
 to the river, leaving the pine-torch stuck in the upturned 
 earth, waving its warm blaze over the cold grave. During 
 the interval which ensued between the departure of the men 
 and their reappearance, bearing the body to its last resting- 
 place, Mr. Bermingham spoke with Edward O'Connor, 
 and soothed him into a more tranquil bearing. When the 
 coffin came within view he advanced to meet it, and began 
 the sublime burial-service, which he repeated most impres- 
 sively. When it was over, the men commenced filling up 
 the grave. As the clods fell upon the coffin, they smote 
 the hearts of the dead man's children; yet the boys stood 
 upon the verge of the grave as long as a vestige of the 
 tenement of their lost father could be seen; but as soon as 
 the coffin was hidden, they withdrew from the brink, and 
 the yoimger boys, each taking hold of the hand of the 
 eldest, seemed to imply the need of mutual dependence: — 
 as if death had drawn closer the bond of brotherhood. 
 
 There was no sincerer mourner at that place than Ed- 
 ward O'Connor, who stood aloof, in respect for the feelings 
 of the children of the departed man, till the grave was 
 quite filled up, and all were about to leave the spot; but 
 then his feelings overmastered him, and, impelled by a 
 torrent of contending emotions, he rushed forward, and
 
 HAKDT ANDY. 375 
 
 throwing himself on his knees before Gustavus, he held xtp 
 his hands imploringly, and sobbed forth, " Forgive me!'' 
 
 The astonished boy drew back. 
 
 "Oh, forgive me!'' repeated Edward — ** I could not 
 help it— it was forced on me — it was — " 
 
 As he struggled for utterance, even the rough retainers 
 were touched, and one of them exclaimed, " Oh, Mr. 
 O'Connor, it was a fair fight!" 
 
 " There!" exclaimed Edtvard — '* you hear it! Oh, give 
 me your hand in forgiveness!" 
 
 *' I forgive you," said the boy, " but do not ask me to 
 give you my hand to-night." 
 
 " You are right," said Edward, springing to his feet — 
 " you are right — ^you are a noble fellow; and now, remem- 
 ber my parting words, Gustavus: Here, by the side of your 
 fathe/'s grave, I pledge you my soul that through life and 
 till death, in all extremity, Edward O'Connor is your sworn 
 and trusty friend." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 "While the foregoing scene of sadness took place in the 
 lone churchyard, unholy watch was kept over the second 
 coffin by the myrmidons of the law. The usurer who made 
 the seizure had brought down from Dublin three of the 
 most determined bailiffs from amongst the tribe, and to 
 their care was committed the keeping of the supposed body 
 in the old barn. Associated with these worthies were a 
 couple of ill-conditioned country blackguards, who, for the 
 sake of a bottle of whisky, would keep company with Old 
 Nick himself, and who expected, moreover, to hear " a 
 power o' news" from the "gentlemen" from Dublin, 
 who in their turn did not object to have their guard 
 strengthened, as their notions of a rescue in the coimtry 
 parts of Ireland were an\i;hing but agreeable. The night 
 was cold, so, clearing away from one end of the barn the 
 sheaves of corn with Avhich it was stored, they made a turf 
 fire, stretched themselves on a good shake-down of straw 
 before the cheering blaze, and circulated among them the 
 whisky, of which they had a goal store. A tap at the aoor 
 announced a new-comer; but the Dublin bailiffs, fearing a 
 surprise, hesitated to open to the knock until their country 
 allies assured them it was a friend whose voice they reoog
 
 376 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 nized. The door was opened, and in walked Larry Ho^an, 
 to pick up his share of what was going, whatever it might 
 be, saying — 
 
 " I thought you wor for keeping me out altogether/* 
 
 *' The gintlemin from Dublin was af eared of what they 
 call a riskya " (rescue) said the peasant, " till I told them 
 'twas a friend/' 
 
 *' Divil a riskya will come near you to-night,'' said 
 Larry, " you may make your minds aisy about that, for 
 the people doesn't care enough about Ms bones to get their 
 own broke in savin' him, and no wondher. It's a Ian- 
 therumswash bully he always was, quiet as he is now. 
 And there you are, my bold Squire, " said he, apostrophiz- 
 ing the coffin which had been thrown on a heap of sheaves. 
 " Faix, it's a good kitchen you kep', anyhow, whenever 
 you had it to spind; and indeed when you hadn't you spint 
 it all the same, for the devil a much you cared how you got 
 it; but death has made you pay the reckoning at last — that 
 thing that filly-officers call the debt o' nature must be 
 paid, whatever else you may owe. " 
 
 " Why, it's as good as a sarmon to hear you," said one 
 of the bailiiis. 
 
 " Oh Larry, sir, discourses illigant," said a peasant. 
 
 "Tut, tut, tut," said Larry, with affected modesty: 
 *' it's not what / say, but I can tell you a thing that Doc- 
 thor Growlin' put out on him more nor a year ago, which 
 was mighty 'cute. Scholars calls it an ' epithet of dissipa- 
 tion,' which means getting a man's tombstone ready for 
 him before he dies; and devil a more cutting thing was 
 ever cut on a tombstone than the doctor's rhyme; mis is 
 it — 
 
 * Here lies O'Grady, that cantankerous creature. 
 Who paid, as all must pay, the debt of nature; 
 But, keeping to his general maxim still, 
 Paid it — like other debts — against his will.'" * 
 
 " What do you think o' that, Goggins?" inquired one 
 bailiff of the other; " you're a judge o' po'thry." 
 
 "It's sevare," answered Goggins, authoritatively, " but 
 coorse. I wish you'd brile the rashers; I begin to feel the 
 calls o' nature, as the poet says." 
 
 * These bitter lines on a "bad pay " were written by a Dublin 
 medical wit of high repute, of whom Dr. Growling is a prototype,
 
 HAKDT ATSTDY. 377 
 
 This Mister Goggins was a character m his way. He 
 had the greatest longing to be thought a poet, put execra- 
 ble couplets together sometimes, and always talked as fino 
 as he could; and his mixture of sentimentality, with a 
 large stock of blackguardism, produced a strange jumble. 
 
 " The people here thought it 7iaie, sir,'' said Lurry. 
 
 *' Oh, very well for the country!" said Goggins; " but 
 'twould ti't do for town." 
 
 " Misther Goggings knows best," said the bailiff who 
 first spoke, " for he's a pote himself, and writes in the 
 newspapers. " 
 
 " Oh, indeed!" said Larry. 
 
 "Yea," said Goggins, "sometimes I throw off little 
 things for the newspapers. There's a friend of mine you 
 see, a gentleman connected with the press, who is often in 
 defficulties, and I give him a hint to keep out o' the way 
 when he's in trouble, and he swears I've a genus for the 
 muses, and encourages me — " 
 
 " Humph!" says Larry. 
 
 " And puts my things in the paper, when he gets the 
 editor's back turned, for the editor is a consaited chap that 
 likes no one's po'thry but his own; but never mind — if I 
 ever get a writ against that cha^o, won't I sarve it!" 
 
 " And I dar say some day you will have it agen him, 
 sir," said Larry. 
 
 " Sure of it, a'most," said Goggins; " them litherary 
 men is always in defficulties." 
 
 " I wondher you'd be like them, then, and write at all," 
 said Larry. 
 
 " Oh, as for me, it's only by way of amusement; at- 
 tached as I am to the legal profession, my time wouldn't 
 permit; but I have been infected by the company I kept. 
 The living images that creeps over a man sometimes is 
 irresistible, and you have no pace till you get them out o' 
 your head. " 
 
 " Oh, indeed, they are very throublesome," says Larry, 
 " and are the litherary gintlemen, sir, as you call them, 
 mostly that way?" 
 
 "To be sure; it is that which makes a litherary man; 
 his head is full — teems with creation, sir. " 
 
 " Bear, dear!" said Larry. 
 
 " And when once the itch of litherature comes over a 
 man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen."
 
 378 HANDY ANDY 
 
 ** But if you have not a pen, 1 suppose you must scratch 
 any other way you can." 
 
 " To be sure/' said Goggins, " I have seen a litherary 
 gentleman in a sponging-house do crack things on the wall 
 with a bit of burned stick, rather than be idle — they must 
 execute." 
 
 *' Ha!" says Larry. 
 
 ** Sometimes, in all their poverty and diflEiculty, I envy 
 the ' fatal fatality, ' as the poet says, of such men in catch- 
 ing ideas, " 
 
 " That's the genteel name for it,'* says Larry. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Goggins, enthusiastically, ** I know 
 the satisfaction of catching a man, but it's nothing at all 
 compared to catching an idea. For the man, you see, can 
 give bail and get off, but the idea is your own forever. 
 And then a rhyme — when it has puzzled you all day, the 
 pleasure you have in nabbing it at last!" 
 
 " Oh, it's poth'ry you're spakin' about," said Larry. 
 
 *' To be siu*e," said Goggins; " do you think I'd throw 
 away my time on prose? You're burning that bacon, 
 Tim," said he to his sub. 
 
 " Poethry agen the world!" continued he to Larry, 
 
 the Castilian sthraime for me ! Hand us that whisky '* 
 — he put the bottle to his mouth and took a swig — " that's 
 good — you do a bit of private here, I suspect," said he, 
 with a wink, pointing to the bottle. 
 
 Larry returned a significant grin, but said nothing. 
 
 " Oh, don't be afraid o' me — I wouldn't 'peach — " 
 
 " Sure it's agen the law, and you're a gintleman o' the 
 law," said Larry. 
 
 " That's no rule," said Goggins: " the Lord Chief Jus- 
 tice always goes to bed, they say, witli six tumblers o' pot- 
 teen under his belt; and I dhrink it myself." 
 
 " Arrah, how do you get it?" said Larry. 
 
 ** From a gentleman, a friend o' mine, in the custom- 
 house. " 
 
 " A-dad, that's quare," said Larry, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, we see queer things, I tell you," said Goggins, 
 " we gentlemen of the law." 
 
 t( 
 
 to" 
 
 " To be sure you must," returned Larry; " and mighty 
 improvin' it must be. iJid you ever catch a thief, sir?" 
 ' My good man, you mistake my profession.' ' said Gog-
 
 HANDY AHDT. 379 
 
 gins, proudly; " we never have anything to do in the 
 criminal line, that's much beneath us." 
 
 " I ax your pardon, sir/' 
 
 ** No offense — no offense. " 
 
 " But it must be mighty improvin', I think, ketching of 
 thieves, and finding out their thricks and liidm' -places, 
 and the hke?" 
 
 " Yes, yes,'* said Goggins, " good fun; though I don't 
 io it, 1 know all about it, and could tell queer things too.*' 
 '' Arrah, may be you would, sir?" said Larry. 
 
 " May be I will, alter we nibble some rashers — will you 
 take share?" 
 
 *' Musha, long life to you,'* said Larry, always willing 
 to get whatever he could. X repast was now made, more 
 resembhng a feast of savages roimd their war-fire than any 
 civilized meal; slices of bacon broiled in the fire, and eggs 
 roasted in the turf-ashes. The viands were not objection- 
 able; but the cooking! Oh! there was neither gridiron nor 
 frying-pan, fork nor spoon; a couple of clasp-knives served 
 the whole party. Nevertheless, they satisfied their hunger 
 and then sent the bottle on its exhilarating round. Soon 
 after that, many a story of burglary, robbery, swindling, 
 petty larceny, and every conceivable crime, was related for 
 the amusement of the circle; and the plots and counterplots 
 of thieves and thief-takers raised the wonder of the peas- 
 ants. Larry Hogan Avas especially delighted ; more par- 
 ticularly when some trick of either villainy or cunning 
 tame out. 
 
 " Now women are troublesome cattle to deal with most- 
 ly," said Goggins. ^^ They are remarkably 'cute first, and 
 then they are spiteful after; and for circumventin' either 
 way are sharp hands. You see they do it quieter than 
 men ; a man will make a noise about it, but a woman does 
 it all on the sly. There was Bill Morgan — and a sharp fel- 
 low he was, too — and he had set his heart on some silver 
 spoons he used to see down in a kitchen windy, but the 
 servant-maid, somehow or other, suspected there was de- 
 signs about the place, and was on the watch. Well, one 
 night, when she was all alone, she heard a noise outside 
 the windy, so she kept as quiet as a mouse. By and by 
 the sash was attempted to be riz from the outside, so she 
 laid bold of a kittle of boiling wather and stood hid behind
 
 880 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 the shatter. The windy was now riz a little, and a hand 
 and arm thrust in to throw up tiie sash altogether, when 
 the girl poured the boiling wather down the sleeve of Bill's 
 coat. Bill roared with the pain, when the girl said to him, 
 laughing, through the windy, ' I tliought you came for 
 something/ " 
 
 " That was a *cute girl/' said Larry, chuckling. 
 
 *' Well, now, that's an instance of a woman's cleverness 
 in preventing. I'll teach you one of her determination to 
 discover and prosecute to conviction; and in this case, what 
 makes it curious is, that Jack Tate had done the bowldest 
 thing, and run the greatest risks, ' the eminent deadly, ' as 
 the poet says, when he was done up at last by a feather- 
 bed." 
 
 ** A feather-bed I'* repeated Larry, wondering how a 
 feather-bed could influence the fate of a bold burglar, while 
 Goggins mistook his exclamation of surprise to signify the 
 paltriness of the prize, and therefore chimed in with him. 
 
 " Quite true — no wonder you wonder — quite below a man 
 of his pluck ; but the fact was, a sweetheart of his was long- 
 ing for a feather-bed, and Jack determined to get it. 
 Well, he marched into a house, the door of which he found 
 open, and went upstairs, and took the best feather-bed in 
 the house, tied it up in the best quilt, crammed some caps 
 and ribbons he saw lying about into the bundle, and 
 marched down-stairs again; but you see, in carrying oif 
 even the small thing of a feather-bed. Jack showed the 
 skill of a high practitioner, for he descendhered the stairs 
 backward!" 
 
 " Backward!" said Larry, " what was that for?" 
 
 ** You'll see by and by," said Goggins; " he descendh- 
 ered backward, when suddenly he heard a door opening, 
 and a faymale voice exclaim, ' Where are you going with 
 that bed?' " 
 
 " I am going upstairs with it, ma'am," says Jack, whose 
 backward position favored his lie, and he began to walk up 
 again. 
 
 " ' Come down here,' said the lady, ' we want no beds 
 here, man.' 
 
 " ' Mr. Sullivan, ma'am, sent me home with it himself,' 
 said Jack, still mounting the stairs. 
 
 *' * Come down, I tell you/ said the lady, in a great
 
 HANDY ANDY. 381 
 
 rage. * There's no Mr. Sullivan lives here — ^go out of this 
 \nth your bed, you stupid fellow.' 
 
 '' ' I beg your pardon, ma'am/ says Jack, turnmg 
 round, and marching oft' with the bed fair and aisy. Well, 
 there was a regular shilloo in the house when the thino was 
 found out,, and cart-ropes wouldn't howld the lady for the 
 rage she was in at being diddled; so she oftered rewards, 
 nnd the dickens knows all ; and what do you think at last 
 discovered our poor Jack!'" 
 
 " The sweetheart, may be," said Larry, grinning in 
 ecstasy at the thought of human perfidy. 
 
 " Xo," said Goggins, '' honor even among sweethearts, 
 though they do the trick sometimes, I confess; but no 
 woman of any honor would betray a great man like Jack, 
 No — 'twas one of the paltr}^ ribbons that brought convic- 
 tion home to him; the woman never lost sight of hunting 
 up evidence about her feather-bed, and, in the end, a rib- 
 bon out of one of her caps settled the hash of Jack Tate. " 
 
 From robbings they went on to tell of murders, and at 
 last that uncomfortable sensation which people experience 
 after a feast of horrors b^gan to pervade the party; and 
 whenever they looked round, there was the coffin in the 
 background. 
 
 " Throw some turf on the fire," said Goggins, " 'tis 
 burning low; and change the subject; the tragic muse has 
 reigned sufficiently long — enough of the dagger and the 
 bowl — sink the socks and put on the buckskins. Leather 
 away, Jim — sing us a song." 
 
 " What is it to be?" asked Jim. 
 
 " Oh — that last song of the Solicitor-General *8," said 
 Goggins, with an air as if the Solicitor-General were his 
 particular friend. 
 
 " About the robbery?" inquired Jim. 
 
 " To be sure," returned Goggins. 
 
 " Dear me," said Larry, " and would so grate a man as 
 the Solicithor-General demane himself by writin' about 
 robbers?" 
 
 " Oh!" said Goggins, " those in the heavy profession of 
 the law must have their little private moments of rollick- 
 zation ; and then high men, you see, like to do a bit of low 
 by way of variety. ' The JSTight before Larry was 
 stretched ' was done by a bishop, they say; and ' Lord Al- 
 tamont's Bull ' by the Lord Chief Justice; and the Solicit-
 
 383 HAXDY AXDY. 
 
 or-General is as up to fun as any bishop of them all 
 Come, Jim, tip us the stave!" 
 Jim cleared nis throat and obeyed his chief. 
 
 ^'TflE QUAKER'S MEETINQ. 
 
 " A traveler wended the wilds among, 
 With a purse of gold and a silver tongue; 
 His hat it was broad, and all drab were his cloth«i 
 For he haled high colors — except on bis nose. 
 And he met with a lady, the story got'S. 
 
 Heigho! yea thee and nay ihee. 
 
 n. 
 
 *' The damsel she cast him a merry blink. 
 And the traveler nothing was loath, I think; 
 Her merry black eye beamed her bonnet beneath. 
 And the quaker he grinned, for he'd very good teeth. 
 And he asked, ' Art thee * going to ride on the heath?' 
 Heigho! yea ihee and nay thee. 
 
 III. 
 
 " ' I hope you'll protect me, kind sir,' said the maid, 
 ' As to rule this heath over I'm sadly afraid; 
 For robbers, they say, here in numbers abound. 
 And I wouldn't "' for anything " I should be found, 
 For, between you and me, 1 have five hundred pound.' 
 Heigho ! yea thee and nay thee. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " • If that is thee own, dear,' the quaker he said, 
 ' I ne'er saw a maiden I sooner would wed; 
 And I have another five hundred just now. 
 In the padding that's under my saddle-bow. 
 And I'll settle it all upon thee, I vow!' 
 
 Heigho I yea thee and nay thee. 
 
 V. 
 
 *' The maiden she smiled, and her rein she drew, 
 ' Your offer I'll take, though I'll not take you;' 
 
 A pistol she held at the quakcr's head — 
 ' Now give me your gold, or I'll give you my lead, 
 'Tis under the saddle I think you said.' 
 
 Heigho 1 yea thee and nay thee. 
 
 * The Inferior class of qr.akers make thee serve not only its owir 
 grammatical use. but also do ihe duty of thy and thenk.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 383 
 
 VI. 
 
 " The damsel she ripp'd up the saddle-bow. 
 And the quaker was never aquaker till uovc; 
 And he saw by the fair one he'd wish'd for a bride 
 His purse borne away with a swagsrerine; stride, 
 And the eye that looked tender now only defied. 
 Heighol yea thee and nay lli.ee. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " * The spirit doth move me, friend Broadbrim, quoth she, 
 • To take all this filthy temptation from thee; 
 For Mammon deeeiveth, and beauty is fleeting: 
 Accept from thy -.naaid'n a right loving greeting. 
 For much dolh .she profit by this quaker's meeting. 
 Heighol yeaihee. and nay thee. 
 
 vm. 
 
 *' • And hark ! jolly quaker, so rosy and sly. 
 
 Have righteousness more than a wench in thine eye. 
 Don't go again peepiug girls' bonnets beneath, 
 Remember the one that you met on the heath. 
 Her name's Jimmy Barlow— I tell to your teeth I' 
 Heigho I yea thee and nay thee. 
 
 IX. 
 
 • • Friend James,' quoth the quaker, ' pray listen to me. 
 For thou canst confer a great favor, d'ye see ; 
 The gold thou hast taken is not mine, my friead. 
 But my master's— and on thee 1 depend 
 To make it appear 1 my trust did defend. 
 
 Heigho ! yea thee and nay thee. 
 
 X. 
 
 •• ' So fire a few shots through my clothes, here and there. 
 To make it appear 'twas a desp'rate affair.' 
 So Jim he popped first through the skirt of his coat. 
 And then through his collar quite close to his throat. 
 ' Now once through my broad-brim,' quoth Ephraim, 'I vote. 
 Heigho 1 yea thee and nay thee. 
 
 XI. 
 
 *' ' I have but a brace,' said bold Jim, ' and they're spent, 
 And I won't load again for a make-believe rent.' 
 ' Then,' said Ephraim— producing his pistols— 'just give 
 My five hundred pounds back— or, as sure as you live, 
 I'll make of your body a riddle or sieve.' 
 
 Heigho yea thee and nay thee. 
 
 xn. 
 
 " Jim Barlow was diddled, and though he was game, 
 He saw Ephraira's pistol so deadly in aim.
 
 384 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 That he gave up the gold, and he took to his scrapers; 
 And when the whole story got into the papers, 
 They said that, ' the thieves were no match for the quaker$.* 
 Heigho! yea i\\ee and nay ihee." 
 
 *' Well, it's a quare thing you should be singin' a song 
 here,*' said Larry Hogan, " about Jim Barlow, and it's 
 not over half a mile out of this very place he was hanged. " 
 
 " Indeed!" exclaimed all the men at once, looking with 
 great interest at Larry. 
 
 "It's truth Fm telling you. He made a very bowld 
 robbery up by the long hill there, on two gintlemen, for he 
 was mighty stout." 
 
 " Pluck to the back-bone," said Goggins. 
 
 " Well, he tuk the purses aff both o' them; and just as 
 he was goin' on afther dojn' the same, what should appear 
 on the road before him but two other travelers coming up 
 forninst him. With that the men that was robbed cried 
 out, ' Stop thief!' and so Jim, seein' himself hemmed in 
 betune the four o' them, faced his horse to the ditch and 
 took across the counthry; but the thravelers was well 
 mounted as well as himself, and powdhered afther him like 
 mad. Well, it was equal to a steeple-chase a'most; and 
 Jim, seein' he could not shake them off, thought the best 
 thing he could do was to cut out some troublesome work for 
 them; so he led off where he knew there was thedivil's own 
 leap to take, and he intended to 'pound* them there, and 
 be off in the manetime; but as ill luck would have it, his 
 own horse, that was as bowld as himself, and would jump 
 at the moon if he was faced to it, missed his foot in takin' 
 off, and fell short o' the leap and slipped his shouldher, 
 and Jim himself had a bad fall of it too, and, av coorse, 
 it was all over wid him — and up came the four gintlemen. 
 Well, Jim had his pistols yet, and he pulled them out, and 
 swore he'd shoot the first man that attempted to take him; 
 but the gintlemen had pistols as well as he, and were so 
 hot on the chase they determined to have him, and closed 
 on him. Jim fired and killed one o' them; but he got a 
 ball in the shouldher himself from another, and he was 
 taken. Jim sthruv to shoot himseK with his second pistol, 
 but it missed fire. * The curse o' the road is on me,' said 
 Jim; ' my pistol missed fire, and my horse slipped hia 
 
 * Impound.
 
 HAJiTDT AKDY. 385 
 
 shouldlie-, and now I'll be scragged/ says lie, * but it's 
 not for nothing — I've killed one o' ye/ says he." 
 
 " He was all pluck/' said Goggins. 
 
 '' Despe'-!ite bowld/' said Larry. " Well, he was thried 
 and condimned av coorse, and was hanged, as I tell you, 
 iuilf a mile out o' this very place, where we are sittin', and 
 his appearance walks, they say, ever since." 
 
 "' You don't say so!" said Goggins. 
 
 " Faith, it's thrue!" answered Larry. 
 
 " You never saw it," said Goggins. 
 
 "The Lord forbid!" returned Larry; "but if s thrue, 
 for all that. For you see the big house near this bam, 
 that is all in ruin, was desarted because Jim's ghost used 
 to walk." 
 
 " That was foolish," said Goggins; " stir up the fire, 
 Jim, and hand me the whisky." 
 
 '* Oh, if it was only walkin', they might have got over 
 that; but at last one night, as the story goes, when there 
 was a threraendious storm o' wind and rain — " 
 
 " Whisht!" said one of the peasants, " what's that?" 
 
 As they listened, they heard the beating of heavy rain 
 against the door, and the wind howled through its chinks. 
 
 " Well," said Goggins, " what are you stopping for?" 
 
 " Oh, I'm not stoppin'," said Larry; I was sayin' 
 that it was a bad wild night, and Jimmy Barlow's appear- 
 ance came into the house and asked them for a glass o' 
 sper'ts, and that he'd be obleeged to them if they'd help 
 him with his horse that slii^ped his shouldher; and, faith, 
 afther that, they'd stay in the place no longer; and signs 
 on it, the house is gone to rack and ruin, and it's only this 
 barn that is kept up at all, because it's convaynient for 
 owld Skinflint on the farm. " 
 
 " That's all nonsense," said Goggins, who wished, ner- 
 ertheless, that he had not heard the nonsense/' " Come, 
 sing another song, Jim." 
 
 Jim said he did not remember one. 
 
 " Then you sing, Ralph." 
 
 Kalph said every one knew he never did more than join 
 a chorus. 
 
 " Then join me in a chorus," said Goggins, " for I'll 
 sing, if .Jim's afraid." 
 
 " I'm not afraid," said Jim. 
 
 " Tiien why won''t you sing?"
 
 886 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 ** Because I don't like/' 
 
 ** Ah!" exclaimed Goggins. 
 
 "Well, maybe you're afraid yourself/' said Jim, "if 
 you towld thrutb." 
 
 " Just to sbow you bow little I'm afeard," said Gog- 
 gins, with a swaggering air, "I'll sing another song about 
 Jimmy Barlow." 
 
 "You'd better not," said Larry Hogan. "Let him 
 rest in pace !' ' 
 
 " Fudge!" said Goggins. " Will you join chorus, Jim?" 
 
 " I will," said Jim, fiercely. 
 
 " We'll all join," said the men (except Larry), who felt 
 it would be a sort of relief to bully away the supernatural 
 terror which hung round their hearts after the ghost story 
 by the sound of their own voices. 
 
 " Then here goes!" said Goggins, who started another 
 long ballad about Jimmy Barlow, in the opening of which 
 all joined. It ran as follows: 
 
 " My name it, is Jimmy Barlow, 
 I was born in the town of Carlow, 
 And here I lie in tlie Maryborough jail, 
 All for the robbing of the Wicklow mail. 
 Fol de rol de rol de riddle-ido!" 
 
 As it would be tiresome to follow this ballad through all 
 
 its length, breadth and thickness, we shall leave the singers 
 
 engaged in their chorus, while we call the reader's attention 
 
 to a more interestiug person than Mister Goggins or Jim- 
 
 i my Barlow. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVn. 
 
 When Edward O'Connor had hurried from the burial- 
 place, he threw himself into his saddle, and urged his horse 
 to speed, anxious to fly the spot where his feelings had been 
 so harrowed; and as he swept along through the cold night 
 wind which began to rise in gusty fits, and howled past 
 him, there was in the violence of his rapid motion some- 
 thing congenial to the fierce career of painful thoughts 
 whidi chased each other through his heated brain. He 
 continued to travel at this rapid pace, so absorbed m bittet 
 reflection as to be quite insensible to e-tternal impressions.
 
 HANDY AUDY. 38? 
 
 and he knew not how far nor how fast he was going, though 
 the heavy breathing of his horse at any other time would 
 nave been signal sufficient to draw therein; but still he 
 pressed onward, and still the storm increased, and each 
 acclivity was topped but to sweep dow^n the succeeding slope 
 at the same desperate pace. Hitherto the road over which 
 he pursued his tleet career lay through an open country, 
 and though the shades of a stormy nig-ht hung above it the 
 horse could make his way in safety through the gloom; 
 but now they approached an old road which skirted an 
 ancient domain, whose venerable trees threw their arms 
 across the old causeway, and added their shadows to the 
 darkness of the night. 
 
 Many and many a time had Edward ridden in the soft 
 summer under the green shade of these very trees, in com- 
 pany with Fanny Daw^son, his guiltless heart full of hope 
 and love; perhaps it was this very thought crossing his 
 mmd at the moment which made his present circum- 
 stances the more oppressive. He was guiltless no longer — 
 he rode not in happiness with the woman he adored under 
 the soft shade of summer trees, but heard the wintery wind 
 howl through their leafless boughs as he hurried in maddened 
 speed beneath them, and heard in the dismal sound but an 
 echo of the voice of remorse which was ringing through his 
 heart. The darkness w^as intense from the canopy of oic 
 oaks which overhung the road, but still the horse w^as 
 urged through the dark ravine at speed, though one might 
 not see an arm's leiigth before. Fearlessly it was per- 
 formed, though ever and anon, as the trees swung about 
 their heavy branches in the storm, smaller portions of the 
 boughs were snapped off and flung in the faces of the horse 
 and the rider, who still spurred and plashed his headlong 
 way through the heavy road beneath. Emerging at length 
 from the deep and overshadowed valley, a steep hill raised 
 its crest in advance, but still up the stony acclivity the feet 
 of the mettled steed rattled rapidly, and flashed fire from 
 the flinty path. As they approached the top of the hill, 
 the force of the storm became more apparent; and on 
 reaching its crest, the fierce pelting of the mingled rain ajid 
 hail made the horse impatient of the storm of which his 
 rider was heedless — almost unconscious. The spent animal 
 with short snortings betokened his labor, and shook his 
 heiid. passionately as the fierce hail-shower struck him in
 
 388 HANDY ANDt. 
 
 the eyes and nostrils. Still, however, was he urged down^ 
 ward, but he was no longer safe. Quite blown, and presseJ 
 over a rough descent, the generous creature, that would 
 die rather than refuse, made a false step, and came heavily 
 to the ground. Edward was stunned by the fall, though 
 not seriously hurt; and, after the lapse of a few seconds, 
 recovered his feet, but found the horse still prostrate. 
 Taking the animal by the head, he assisted hnn to rise, 
 which he was not enabled to do till after several efforts; 
 and when he regained his legs, it was manifest he was seri- 
 ously lamed; and as he limped along with difficulty beside 
 his master, who led him gently, it became evident that it 
 was beyond the animal's power to reach his own stable 
 that night. Edward for the first time was now aware of 
 how much he had punished his horse; he felt ashamed of 
 using the noble brute with such severity, and became con- 
 Bcious that he had been acting under something little short 
 of frenz}'. The consciousness at once tended to restore 
 him somewhat to himself, and he began to look around on 
 every side in search of some house where he could find rest 
 and shelter for his disabled horse. As he proceeded thus, 
 the care necessarily bestowed on his dumb companion par- 
 tially called off his thoughts from the jjainful theme with 
 which they had been exclusively occupied, and the effect 
 was most beneficial. The first violent burst of feeling w;is 
 past, and a calmer train of thought succeeded; he for the 
 first time remembered the boy had forg-ven him and that 
 was a great consolation to him; he recalled, too, his own 
 words, pledging to Gustavus his friendship, and in this 
 pleasing hope of the future he saw much to redeem what 
 he regretted of the past. Still, however, the wild flare of 
 the pine-torch over the lone grave of his adversary, and 
 the horrid answer of the grave-digger, that he was but 
 *' finishing his work,'' would recur to his memory and 
 awake an internal pang. 
 
 From this painful reminiscence he sought to escape, by 
 looking forward to all he would do for Gustavus, and had 
 become much calmer, when the glimmer of a light not far 
 ahead attracted him, and he soon was enabled to perceive 
 it proceeded from some buildings that lay on his right, not 
 far from the road. He turned up the rough path which 
 formed the approach, and the light escaped through the 
 chinks of a large door which indicated the place to be a 
 
 '>-i^
 
 HANDY AXDY. 389 
 
 coach-house, or some such office, belonging to the general 
 pile, which seemed in a ruinous condition. 
 
 As he approached, Edward heard rude sounds of merri- 
 ment, amongst wliich the joining of many voices in a " ree- 
 raw" chorus indicated tliat a carouse was going forward 
 within. 
 
 On reaching the door he could perceive through a wide 
 chink a group of men sitting round a turf fire piled at the 
 far end of the building, which had no fire-place, and tlid 
 smoke, curling upward to the roof, wreathed the rafters in 
 smoke; beneath this vapory canopy the party sat drinking 
 and singing, and Edward, ere he knocked for admittance, 
 listened to the following strange refrain : — 
 
 " For my name it is Jimmy Barlow, 
 I was born in the town of Carlow, 
 Ami here I lie in Maryborough jail, 
 All for the robbing of the Wicklow mail. 
 Fol de rol de riddleiddle-idol" 
 
 Then the principal singer took up the song, which 
 seemed to be one of robbery, blood, and murder, for it ran 
 
 thus: — 
 
 " Then he cocked his pistol gayly, 
 And stood before him bravely. 
 Smoke and fire is my desire, 
 So blaze away my game-cock squire. 
 For my name it is Jimmy Barlow, 
 I was born, etc." 
 
 Edward O'Connor knocked at the door loudly; the 
 •words he had iust heard about " pistols,'' " blazing away," 
 and, last of all, " squire," fell gratingly on liis ear at that 
 moment, and seemed strangely to connect themselves with 
 the previous adventures of the night and his own sad 
 thotights, and he beat against the door with violence. 
 
 The choiHis ceased; Mward repeated his knocking. 
 
 Still there was no answer; but he heard low and hurried 
 muttering inside. Determined, however, to gain admit- 
 tance, Edward laid hold of an iron hasp outside the door, 
 which enabled him to shake the gate with violence, that 
 there might be no excuse on the part of the inmates that 
 they did not hear; but in thus making the old door rattle 
 in its frame, it suddenly yielded to his touch and creaked 
 open on its rusty hinges; for when Larry Hogan had en- 
 tered, it had been forgotten to ).)e barred.
 
 390 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 As Edward stood in the open door- way, the first object 
 which met his eye was the coffin — and it is impossible to 
 say how much at that moment the sight shocked him; he 
 shuddered invohnitarily, yet could not withdraw his eyes 
 from the revolting object; and the pallor with which his 
 previous mental anxiety had invested his cheek increased 
 as he looked on this last tenement of mortality. " Am I 
 to see nothing but the evidences of death's doing this 
 night?" was the mental question which shot through Ed- 
 ward's over-wrought brain, and he grew livid at the 
 thought. He looked more like one raised from the grave 
 than a living being, and a wild glare in his eyes rendered 
 his appearance still more unearthly. He felt that shame 
 which men always experience in allowing their feelings to 
 overcome them; and by a great effort he mastered his enio- 
 tion and spoke, but the voice partook of the strong nervous 
 excitement under which he labored, and was hollow ano 
 broken, and seemed more like that which one might fancj 
 to proceed from the jaws of a sepulcher than one of flesh 
 and blood. Beaten by the storm, too, his hair hung in 
 wet flakes over his face and added to his wild appearance, 
 so that the men all started tip at the first glimpse they 
 caught of him, and huddled themselves together in the 
 furthest corner of the building, from whence they eyed 
 him with evident alarm. 
 
 Edward thought some whisky might check the feeling of 
 faintness which overcame him; and though he deemed it 
 probable he had broken in upon the nocturnal revel of des- 
 perate and lawless men, he nevertheless asked them to give 
 him some; but instead of displaying that alacrity so uni- 
 versal in Ireland, of sharing the " creature " with a new- 
 comer, the men only pointed to the bottle which stood be- 
 side the fire, and drew closer together. 
 
 Edward's desire for the stimulant was so great, that he 
 scarcely noticed the singular want of courtesy on the part 
 of the men; and seizing the bottle (for there was no glass), 
 he put it to his lips, and quaffed a hearty dram of the spirit 
 before he spoke. 
 
 '' I must ask for shelter and assistance here,'' said Ed- 
 ward. '' My horse, I fear, has slipped his shoulder — " 
 
 Before he could utter another word, a simultaneous roar 
 of terror burst from the group; they fancied the ghost of 
 Jimmy Barlow was before them, and made a simultaueoua
 
 HANDY AXDY. 391 
 
 rush from the barn; and Avhen they saw the horse at the 
 door, another yell escaped them, as they fled with increased 
 speed and terror. Edward stood in amazement as the men 
 rushed from his presence; he followed to the gate to recall 
 them; they were gone; he could only hear their yells in the 
 distance. The circumstance seemed cjuite unaccountable; 
 and as he stood lost in vain surmises as to the cause of the 
 strange occurrence, a low neigh of recognition from the 
 horse reminded him of the animal's wants, and he led him 
 into the barn, where, from the plenty of straw which lay 
 around, he shook down a litter where the maimed animal 
 might rest. 
 
 He then paced up and clown the barn, lost in wonder at 
 the conduct of those whom he found there, and whom his 
 presence had so suddenly exjjelled ; and even as he walked 
 toward the fire, the coffin caught his e3^e. As a fitful blaze 
 occasionally arose, it flashed upon the plate, which brightly 
 reflected the flame, and Edward was irresistibly drawn, de- 
 spite his original imj^ression of horror at the object, to ap- 
 proach and read the inscription. The shield bore the name 
 of " 'Grady," and Edward recoiled from the coffin with 
 a shudder, and inwardly asked, was he in his waking- 
 senses? He had but an hour ago seen liis adversary laid 
 in his grave, yet here was his coffin agahi before him, as if 
 to harrow up his soul anew. Was it real, or a mockery '1 
 Was he the sport of a dream, or was there some dreadful 
 curse fallen upon liim that he f^hould be forever haunted bv 
 the victim of his arm, and the cull of vengeance for blood 
 be ever upon his track? he breathed short and hard, anil 
 the smoky atmosphere in which he was enveloped rendered 
 respiration still more difficult. As through this oppressive 
 vapor, which seemed ojily fit for the nethei- world, he saw 
 the coffin-plate flash back the flame, his imagination ac- 
 cumulated horror on horror; and when the blaze sunk, and 
 but the bright red of the fire was reflected, it seemed to 
 him to burn, as it were, with a spot of blood, and he could 
 support the scene no longer, but rushed from the barn in a 
 state of mind bordering on frenzy. 
 
 It was about an hour afterward, near midiiight, that the 
 old barn was in flames; most likely some of the straw near 
 the fire, in the confusion of the breaking-up of the party, 
 had been scattered within range of ignition, and caused the 
 accident. The flames were seen for miles roimd the coim
 
 393 HAKDY AXDY. 
 
 try, and the shattered walls of the ruhied mansion-houso 
 were illuminated brightly by the glare of the consumin* 
 barn, which m the morning added its own blackened and 
 reeking ruin to the desolation, and crowds of persons con- 
 gregated to the spot for many days after. The charred 
 planks of the coffin were dragged from amongst the ruin ; 
 and as the roof in falling in had dragged a large portion of 
 the wall along with it, the stones which had filled the coffin 
 could not be distinguished from those of the fallen build- 
 ing; therefore much wonder arose that no vestige of the 
 bones of the corpse it was siapposed to contain should be 
 discovered. Wonder increased to horror as the strange fact 
 was promulgated, and in the ready credulity of a supersti- 
 tious people, the terrible belief became general, that his 
 sable majesty had made off with O'Grady and the party 
 watching him ; for as the Dublin bailiff's never stopped till 
 they got back to town, and were never seen again in the 
 country, it was most natural to suppose that the devil had 
 made a haul of tliem at the same time. In a few days 
 rumor added the spectral appearance of Jim Barlow to the 
 tale, wliich only deepened its mysterious horror; and 
 tliough, after sonie time, the true story was promulgated 
 by those who knew the real state of the case, yet the trutli 
 never gained ground, and was considered but a clever sham, 
 attempted by the family to prevent so dreatlful a story from 
 attaching to their house; and ti'adition perpetuates to this 
 hour the belief that tlie devil jieio away ivitli 0' Grady. 
 
 Lone and shunned as the hill Avas where the ruined house 
 stood, it became more lone and shunned than ever, and the 
 boldest heart in the whole country-side would quail to be 
 in its vicinity, even in the day-time. To such a pitch the 
 panic rose, that an extensive farm which encircled it, and 
 belonged to the old usurer who made the seizure, fell into 
 a profitiess state from the impossibility of men being found 
 to work upon it. It was useless even as pasture, for no one 
 could be found to herd cattle upon it; altogether it was a 
 serious loss to the money-grubber; and so far the incident 
 of the burned barn, and the tradition it gave rise to, acted 
 beneficially in making the inhuman act of warring with the 
 dead, recoil upon the meiGiless old usurer.
 
 HAJSTDY ANDY. 393 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVin. 
 
 "We left. Andy in what may be called a delicate situation, 
 and though Andy's perceptions of the refined were not very 
 acute, he himself began to wonder how he should get out 
 of the dilemma into which circumstances had thrown him; 
 and even to his dull comprehension various terminations to 
 his adventure suggested themselves, till he became quite 
 confused in the chaos which his own thoughts created. One 
 good idea, however, Andy contrived to lay hold of out of 
 the bundle which perplexed him: he felt that to gain time 
 would be an advantage, and if evil must come of his ad- 
 venture, the longer he could keej^ it olf the better; so he 
 kept up his affectation of timidity, and put in his sobs and 
 lamentations, like so many commas and colons, as it were, 
 to prevent Bridget from arriving at her climax of going to 
 bed. 
 
 Bridget insisted bed was the finest thing in the world for 
 a young woman in distress of mind. 
 
 Andy protested he never could get a wink of sleep when 
 his mind was uneasy. Bridget promised the most sisterly 
 tenderness. 
 
 Andy answered by a lament for his mother. 
 
 " Come to bed, I tell you,'' said Bridget. 
 
 " Are the sheets aired?" sobbed Andy. 
 
 " What?" exclaimed Bridget, in amazement. 
 
 *' If you are not sure of the sheets bein' aired," said 
 Andy, " I'd be afeard of catchin' cowld." 
 
 " Sheets, indeed!" said Bridget; " faith, it's a dainty 
 lady you are, if you can't sleep without sheets." 
 
 "What!" returned Andy, "no sheets?" 
 
 *' Devil a sheet." 
 
 " Oh, mother, mother!" exclaimed Andy, " what would 
 you say to your innocent child being tuk away to a place 
 where there was no sheets?" 
 
 " Well, I never heerd the like!" says Bridget. 
 
 " Oh, the villains! to bring me where I wouldn't have a 
 bit o' clane linen to lie in!" 
 
 " Sure, there's blankets, I tell you." 
 
 "Oh, don't talk to me!" roared Andy; " sure, you 
 }qjpw, sheets is only dacent,"
 
 394 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 '* Bother, girl! Isn't a snug woolly blanket a fine thing?" 
 
 '' Oh, don t brake my heart that-a-wayl'' sobbed Andy; 
 ** sure, there's wool on any dirty sheep's back, but linen is 
 dacency! Oh, mother, mother, if you thought your poor 
 girl was without a sheet this night!" 
 
 And so Andy went on, spinning liis bit of *' linen manu- 
 facture '"' as long as he could, and raising Bridget's wonder 
 that, instead of the lament which abducted ladies generally 
 raise about their " vartue," this young woman's principal 
 complaint arose on the scarcity of flax. Bridget ajjpealed 
 to common sense if blankets were not good enough in these 
 bad times; insisting, moreover, that, as " love was warmer 
 than friendship, so wool was warmer than flax," the beauty 
 of which parallel case nevertheless failed to reconcile the 
 disconsolate abducted. Now Andy had pushed his plea of 
 the want of linen as far as he thought it would go, and 
 when Bridget returned to the charge, and reiterated the 
 oft-repeated "Come to bed, I tell you I" Andy had re- 
 course to twiddling about his toes, and chattering his 
 teeth, and exclaimed in a tremulous voice, " Oh, Iv'e Sk 
 thrimblin' all over me I" 
 
 " Loosen the sthrings o' you, then," said Bridget, about 
 to suit the action to the word. 
 
 "Ow! ow!" cried Andy, "don't touch me — I'm tick- 
 lish." 
 
 " Then open the throat o' your gowii yourself, dear," 
 said Bridget. 
 
 "I've a cowld on my chest, and darn't," said Andy; 
 " but I think a dhrop of hot punch would do me good if I 
 had it." 
 
 " And plenty of it," said Bridget, " if that'll plaze 
 you." She rose as she spoke, and set about getting " the 
 materials " for making punch. 
 
 Andy hoped, by means of this last idea, to drink Bridget 
 into a state of unconsciousness, and then make his escape; 
 but he had no notion, until he tried, what a capacity the 
 entle Bridget had for carrying tumblers of punch steadily; 
 le proceeded as cunninglj'' as possible, and, on the score of 
 *' the thrimblin' over him," repeated the doses of punch, 
 which, nevertheless, he protested he couldn't touch, unless 
 Bridget kept him in countenance, glass for glass; and 
 Bridget — genial soul — was no Avay loath; for living in a still, 
 and among smugglers, as she did, it was not a trifle of 
 
 h
 
 HANDT ANDT. 395 
 
 fitingo could bring her- to a halt. Andy_, even with the ad. 
 vantage of the stronger organization of a man, found thia 
 mountain lass nearly a match for him, and before the jjota- 
 tions operated as he hoj^ed upon her, his own senses began 
 to feel the influence of the liquor, and his caution became 
 considerably undermined. 
 
 Still, however, he resisted the reijeated offers of the couch 
 proposed to him, declaring he would sleep hi his clothes, 
 and leave to Bridget the full possessiou of her lair. 
 
 The fire began to burn low, and Andy thought he might 
 facilitate his escai^e by counterfeiting sleep; so feigning 
 slumber as well as he could, he seemed to sink into insensi- 
 bility, and Bridget unrobed herself and retired behind a 
 rough screen. 
 
 It was by a great effort that Andy kept himself awake, 
 for his potations, added to his nocturnal excursion, tended 
 toward somnolency; but the desu'e of escaj)e, and fear of a 
 discovery and its consequences, prevailed over the ordinaiy 
 tendency of nature, and he remained awake, watchuig every 
 sound. The silence at last became jiaiuf ul — so still was 
 it, that he could hear the small crumbling sound of the 
 d}'ing embers as they decomi^osed and shifted their jjosition 
 on the hearth, and yet he could not be satisfied from the 
 breathing of the woman that she slept. After the lajjse of 
 half an hour, however, he ventured to make some move- 
 ment. He had well observed the quarter in which tlie 
 outlet from the cave lay, and there was still a faint glim- 
 mer from the fire to assist liim in crawHng toward the trap. 
 It was a relief when, after some minutes of cautious creep- 
 ing, he felt the fresh air breathing from above, and a mo- 
 ment or two more brought him in contact with the ladder. 
 With the stealth of a cat he began to climb the rimgs — he 
 could hear the men snoring on the outside of the cave : stejj 
 by stej) as he arose he felt his heart beat faster at the 
 thought of escape, and became more cautious. At length 
 his head emerged from the cave, and he saw the men lying 
 about its mouth; they lay close around it — he must step 
 over them to escape — the chance is fearful, but he deter- 
 mined to attempt it — ^he ascends still higher — his foot i« on 
 the last rung of the ladder — the next step puts him on the 
 heather — when he feels a hand lay hold of him from below. 
 
 His heart died within him at the touch, and he could not 
 resist an exclamation.
 
 396 HAKDY ANDT. 
 
 "Who's that?" exclaimed one of the men outside. 
 Andy crouelied. 
 
 " Come down/' said the voice softl}'- from below; *' ii 
 Jack sees you, it will be worse for you. " 
 
 It was the voice of Bridget, and Andy felt it was better to 
 be with her than exposed to the savagery of Shan More aad 
 the myrmidons; so he descended quietly, and gave himself 
 up to the tight hold of Bridget, who, with many assevera- 
 tions that " out of her arms siie would not let the prisoner 
 go till morning," led him back to the cave. 
 
 CUAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 "Great wit to madness nearly is allied, 
 And thin partitions do the bounds divide." 
 
 So sings the poet; but whether the wit be great or little, 
 the " thin partition " separating madness from sanity is 
 equally mysterious. It is true that the excitability attend- 
 ant upon genius approximates so closely to madness, that 
 it is sometimes difficult to distinguish between them; but, 
 without the attendant " genius " to hold up the train of 
 madness, and call for our special permission and respect 
 in any of its fantastic excursions, the most ordinary crack- 
 brain sometimes chooses to sport in the regions of sanity, 
 and, without the license which genius is supposed to dis- 
 pense to her children, poach over the preserves of common 
 sense. This is a well-known fact, and would not be reiter- 
 ated here, but that the circumstances about to be recorded 
 hereafter might seem unworthy of belief; and as the verac- 
 ity of our history we would not have for one moment ques- 
 tioned, we have ventured to jog the memory of our readers 
 as to the close neighborhood of madness and common 
 sense, before we record a curious instance of intermitting 
 madness in the old dowager 'Grady. 
 
 Her son's death had, by the violence of the shock, 
 dragged her from the region of fiction in which she habit- 
 ually existed; but after the fimeral she relapsed into all 
 her strange aberration, and her bird-clock and her chimney- 
 pot head-dress were once more in requisition. 
 
 The old lady had her usual attendance from her grand- 
 daughter, and the customary offerings of flowers was ren- 
 dered, but they were not so cared for as before, and Char-
 
 HAK^DY AXDT. 397 
 
 lotte was dismissed sooner than usual from her morning* a 
 attendance, and a new favorite received in her place. And 
 " of all the birds in the air/' who should this favorite be 
 but Master Eatty. Yes! — Eatty — the caricaturist of his 
 grandmamma, was, "for the nonce,"' her closeted com- 
 panion. Many a guess was given as to " what in the 
 world " grandmamma could want with Eatty; but the se- 
 cret was kept between them, for this reason, that the old 
 \'^i(\.J 'kei^t the reivard she jJrQtnised 'Rdiiij for preserving it 
 in her own hands, until the duty she required on his part 
 should be accomj)lished, and the shilling a day to which 
 Eatty looked forward kept him faithful. 
 
 Now the duty Master Eatty had to perform was instruct- 
 ing his grandmamma how to handle a pistol; the bringing 
 up quick to the mark, and leveling by " the sight,'' was 
 explained; but a difficulty arose in the old lady's shutting 
 her left eye, which Eatty declared to be indispensable, and 
 for some time Eatty Avas obliged to stand on a chair and 
 cover his grandmamma's eye with his hand while she took 
 aim; this was found inconvenient, however, and the old 
 lady substituted a black silk shade to obfuscate her sinister 
 luminary in her exercises, which now advanced to snap- 
 ping the lock, and knocking sparks from the flint, which 
 made the old lady wink with her right eye. "When this 
 second habit Avas overcome, the "dry" practice, that is, 
 without powder, was given up; and a " flash in the pan " 
 was ventured upon, but this made her shut both eyes to- 
 gether, and it was some time before she could prevail on 
 herseK to hold her eye flxed on her mark, and pull the 
 trigger. This, however, at last was accomplished, and 
 when she had conquered the fear of seeing the flash, she 
 adopted the plan of standing before a handsome old-fash- 
 joned looking-glass which reached from the ceiling to the 
 floor, and leveling the j^istol at her own reflection within 
 it, as if she were engaged in mortal combat; and every 
 time she snapped and burned priming she would exclaim, 
 " I hit him that time! — I know I can kill him — tremble, 
 villain!" 
 
 As long as this pistol practice had the charm of novelty 
 for Eatty, it was all very well; but when, day by day, the 
 strange mistakes and nervousness of his grandmamma 
 became less piquant from repetition, it was not such gond 
 |un^ and when the rantipole boy, after as much time as he
 
 398 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 wished to devote to the old woman's caprice, endeavore<'\' 
 to emancipate himself and was countermanded, an out- 
 burst of " Oh. bother!" would take place, till the grand- 
 mother called up the prospective shillings to his view, and 
 Ratty bowed before the altar of Mammon. But even 
 Mammon failed to keep Eatty loyal; for that heathen god, 
 Momus, claimed a superior allegiance; Eatty worshiped 
 the " cap and bells " as the true crown, and " the bauble " 
 as the sovereign scepter. Besides, the secret became trouble- 
 some to him, and he determined to let the whole house 
 know what " gran " and he were about, in a way of his 
 own. 
 
 The young imp, in the next day's practice, worked up 
 the grandmamma to a state of great excitement, urging 
 her to take a cool and determined aim at the looking-glass. 
 " Cover him well, gran," said Eatty. 
 
 " I will," said the dowager, resolutely. 
 
 " You ought to be able to liit him at six paces." 
 
 " I stand at twelve paces." 
 
 " No — you are only six from the looking-glass." 
 
 " But the reflection, child, in the mirror, doubles the 
 distance. " 
 
 " Bother!" said Eatty. " Here, take the pistol — mind 
 your eye and don't wink." 
 
 " Eatty, you are singularly obtuse to the charms of sci- 
 
 ence." 
 
 What's science?" said Eatty. 
 
 " Science, child, is knowledge of a lofty and abstruse 
 nature, developing itself in wonderful inventions — ^gun- 
 powder, for instance, is made by science.'" 
 
 " Indeed it is not," said Eatty; " I never saw his name 
 on a canister. Pigou, Andrew, and Wilks, or Mister Dart- 
 ford Mills, are the men for gunpowder. You know noth- 
 ing about it, gran. " 
 
 " Eatty, you are disrespectful, and will not listen to in- 
 struction. I knew Kirwan — the great Kirwan, the chem- 
 ist, who always wore his hat — ' ' 
 
 " Then he knew chemistry better than manners. " 
 
 " Eatty, you are very troublesome. I desire you to listen, 
 sir. Kirwan, sir, told me all about science, and the Dub- 
 lin Society have his picture, with a bottle in his hand — " 
 Then he was fond of drink," said Eatty. 
 Eatty, don't be pert. To come back to what I was 
 
 ((
 
 HAXDT ANDY. 399 
 
 ■originally saying — I repeat, sir, I am at twelve paces from 
 my object, six from tlie mirror, which, doubled by reflec- 
 tion, makes twelve; such is the law of optics. 1 sujjpose 
 you know what optics are?^' 
 
 " To be sure I do?" 
 
 "Tell me, then." 
 
 ** Our eyes,'^ said Ratty. 
 
 ** Eyes!" exclaimed the old lady, in amaze. 
 
 "To be sure,'' answered Eatty, boldly. " Didn't I 
 hear the old blind man at the fair asking charity ' for the 
 loss of his blessed optics 'V 
 
 *' Oh, what lamentable ignorance, my child!" exclaimed 
 the old lady. " Your tutor ought to be ashamed of him- 
 self." 
 
 •' So he is," said Eatty. " He hasn't had a pair of new 
 breeches for the last seven years, and he hides himself 
 'wnenever he sees mamma or tlae girls." 
 
 *' Oh, you ignorant child! Indeed, Eatty, my love, you 
 must study. I will give you the renowned Kirwan's book. 
 Charlotte tore some of it for curl papers; but there's 
 enough left to enlighten you with tlie sun's rays, and re- 
 flection and refraction — " 
 
 " I know what that is," said Eatty. 
 
 " What?" 
 
 "Eefraction." 
 
 *' And what is it, dear?" 
 
 *' Bad behavior," said Eatty. 
 Oh, Heavens!" exclaimed his grandmother. 
 Yes, it is," said Eatty, stoutly; " the tutor says I'm 
 refractory when I behave ill ; and he knows Latin better 
 than you." 
 
 " Eatty, Ratty! you are hopeless!" exclaimed his grand- 
 mamma. 
 
 " No, I am not," said Eatty. I'm always hoping. And 
 I hope Uncle Eobert Avill break his neck some day, and 
 leave us his money." 
 
 The old woman turned up her eyes, and exclaimed, 
 " You wicked boy!" 
 
 "Fudge!" said Eatty; ''he's an old shaver, and we 
 want it; and indeed, gran, you ought to give me ten shil- 
 lings for ten days' teaching, now; and there's a fair next 
 week, and I want to buy things." 
 
 " Eatty, I told you when you made me perfect in the 

 
 400 HANDY ANDY, 
 
 use of my weapon I would pay you. My promise is sa* 
 cred, and I will observe it with that scrupulous honor 
 which has ever been the characteristic of the family; as 
 soon as I hit something, and satisfy myself of my mastery 
 over the weapon, the money shall be yours, but not till 
 then. " 
 
 " Oh, very well,^^ said Ratty; " go on then. Ready — 
 don't bring up your arm that way, like the handle of a 
 pump, but raise it nice from the elbow — that^s it. Beady 
 —fire! Ah I there you bhnk your eye, and drop the point 
 of your pistol — try another. '^ Beady— fire ! That's better. 
 Now steady the next time.'' 
 
 The young villain then put a charge of powder and ball 
 into the pistol he handed his grandmother, who took steady 
 aim at her reflection in the mirror, and at the words, 
 " Beady— fire !" hang went the pistol — the magnificent 
 glass was smashed — the unexpected recoil of the weapon 
 made it drop from the hand of the dowager, who screamed 
 with astonishment at the report and the shock, and did 
 not see for a moment the mischief she had done; but when 
 the shattered mirror caught her eyes, she made a rush at 
 Ratty, who was screeching with laughter in the far corner, 
 of the room where he ran to when he had achieved his 
 trick, and he was so helpless from the excess of his cacliin- 
 nation, that the old lady cufl'ed him without his being able 
 to defend himself. At last he contrived to get out of her 
 clutches and jammed her against the wall with a table so 
 tightly, that she roared "Murder!" The report of the 
 pistol ringing through the house brought all its inmates to 
 the spot; and there the cries of mui'der from the old lady 
 led them to suppose some awful tragedy, instead of a 
 comedy, was enacting inside; the door was locked, too, 
 which increased the alarm, and was forced in the moment 
 of terror from the outside. When the crowd rushed in, 
 Master Ratty rushed out, and left the astonished family to 
 gather up the bits of the story, as well as they could, from 
 the broken looking-glass and the cracked dowager. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 Though: it is clear the serious events in the O'Grady 
 family had not altered Master Ratty's propensities in the 
 least, the case was far different with Gustavus. In that
 
 HANDY AXDY. 401 
 
 one night of suffering whicli he had passed, the gulf was 
 leaped* that divides the boy from the man; and the extra 
 frivolity and carelessness which clung from boyhood up to 
 the age of fifteen, was at once, by the sudden disrupture 
 produced by events, thrown off, and as singular a ripen- 
 ing into manliood commenced. 
 
 Gustavus was of a generous nature ; and even his faults 
 belonged less to his organization than to the devil-may-care 
 sort of education he received, if education it might be 
 called. Upon his generosity the conduct of Edward 
 O'Connor beside the grave of the boy's father had worked 
 strongly; and though Gustavus could not give his hand 
 beside the grave to the man with whom his father had 
 engaged in deadly quarrel, yet he quite exonerated Edward 
 from any blame] and when, after a night more sleepless 
 than Gustavus had ever known, he rose early on the ensu- 
 ing morning, he determined to ride over to Edward O'Con- 
 nor's house to breakfast, and commence that friendship 
 which Edward had so solemnly promised to him, and with 
 which the boy was pleased; for Gustavus was quite aware 
 in what estimation Edwaid was held; and though the rela- 
 tive circumstances in which he and the late Squire stood 
 Drevented the boy from " caring a fig " for him, as he often 
 said himself, yet he was not beyond the influence of that 
 thing called " reputation," which so powerfully attaches to 
 and elevates the man who wins it; and the price at which 
 Edward was held in the country influenced opinion even in 
 Xeck-or-nothing Hall, albeit though " agamst the grain. " 
 Gustavus had sometimes heard, from the lips of the idle 
 and ignorant, Edward sneered at for being "cruel wise," 
 and " too much of a school-master," and fit for nothing but 
 books or a boudoir, and called a " piano man," with all 
 the rest of the hackneyed " dirt " which jealous inferiority 
 loves to fling at the heights it can not occupy; for though 
 — as it has been said— E'dward, from his manly and sensible 
 bearing, had escaped such sneers better than most men, 
 still some few there were to whom his merit was offensive. 
 Gustavus, however, though he sometimes heard such 
 thmgs, saw with his own eyes that Edward could back a 
 horse with any man in the country — was always foremost 
 in the chase — -could bring down as many brace of birds as 
 most men in a day — had saved one or two persons from 
 drowning; and if he did all these things as well as other
 
 402 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 men, Gnstavus (though hitherto too idle to learn mnch 
 himself) did not see why a man should be sneered at foi 
 being an accomplished scholar as well. Therefore he had 
 good foundation for being pleased at the proffered friend- 
 ship of such a man, and remembering the poignancy of 
 Edward's anguish on the foregoii\g ev(!. Gustavus gener- 
 ously resolved to see him at once and offer him the hand 
 which a nice sense of tooling made him withhold the night 
 before. Mounting liis pony, an hour's smart riding 
 brouglit him to Mount Eskar, for such was the name of 
 Mr. O'Connor's residence. 
 
 It was breakfast-time when Gustavus arrived, but Ed- 
 ward had not yet left his room, and the servant went to 
 call him. It need scarcely be said that Edward had passed 
 a wretched night; reaching liome, as he did, weary in mind 
 and body, and with feelings and imagination both over- 
 wrought, it was long before he could sleep; and even then 
 his slumber was disturbed by harassing visions and fright- 
 ful images. Spectral shapes and things uiiimaginable to 
 the waking senses danced and crawled and hissed about 
 him. The torch flared above the grave, and that horrid 
 coffin, with the name of the dead 'Grady upon it, '• mur- 
 dered sleep. " It was dawn before any tiling like refreshing 
 slumber touched his feverish eyelids, and he had not en- 
 joyed more than a couple of hoursof what might be called 
 sleep, when the servant called him; and then after the 
 brief oblivion he had obtained, one may fancy how he 
 started when the first words he heard on waking were, 
 "Mister O'Grady is bolow, sir." 
 
 Edward started up from his bed and stared wildly on the 
 man, as he exclaimed, with a look of alarm, " O'Grady! 
 For God's sake, you don't say O'Grady? " 
 
 "'Tis Master Gustavus, sir," said the man, wondering 
 at the wildness of Edward's manner. 
 
 "Oh, the boy! — ay, ay, the boy!" repeated Edward, 
 drawing his hands across his eyes and recovering his self- 
 possession. "Say I will be down presently." 
 
 The man retired, and Edward lay down again for some 
 minutes to calm the heavy beating of his heart which the 
 sudden mention of the name had produced; that name so 
 linked with the mental agony of the past night, that name 
 which had conjured up a waking horror of such might as 
 to shake the sway of reason for a time, and which after-
 
 HAKDY ANDY. 403 
 
 ward pursued its reign of terror tlirougli his sleep. Alter 
 such a night, fanc}^ poor Edward doomed to hear the name 
 of O'Grady again the first thing in the morning, and we 
 can not wonder that he was startled. 
 
 A few minutes, however, served to restore his self-pos- 
 session, and he arose, made his toilet in haste, and descend- 
 ed to the breakfast-parlor, where he was met by Gustavus 
 Avith an open hand, which Edward clasped with fervor and 
 held for some time as he looked on the handsome face of 
 the boy, and saw in its frank exjDression all that his heart 
 could desire. They spoke not a word, but they understood 
 one another; and that moment commenced an attachment 
 which increased with increasing intimacy, and became one 
 of those steadfast friendships which are seldom met with. 
 
 After breakfast Edward brought Gustavus to his " den,^* 
 as he called a room which was appropriated to his own 
 particular use, occupied with books and a small collection 
 of national relics. Some long ranges of that pecuhar calf 
 binding, with its red label, declared at once the contents to 
 be law ; and by the dry formal cut of the exterior gave little 
 invitation to reading. The very outside of a law library is 
 repulsive; the continuity of that eternal buif leather gives 
 one a surfeit by anticipation, and makes one mentally ex- 
 claim in despair, " Heavens! how can any one hope to get 
 all that into his head?" The only plain, honest thing 
 about law is the outside of the books where it is laid down 
 — ^there all is simple; inside all is complex. The interlacing 
 lines of the binder's patterns find no place on the covers; 
 but intricacies abound inside, where any line is easier found 
 than a straight one. Xor gold leaf nor tool is employed 
 without, but within how many fallacies are enveloped in 
 glozing words; the gold leaf has its representative in " legal 
 fiction;" and as for " fooling," there's plenty of that! 
 
 Other books, also, bore external evidence of the nature 
 of their contents. Some old parchment covers indicated 
 the lore of past ages; amidst these the brightest names of 
 Greece and Eome were to be found, as well as those who 
 have adorned our own literature, and implied a cultivated 
 taste on the part of the owner. But one portion of the 
 library was particularly well stored. The works bearing on 
 Irish history were numerous, and this might well account 
 for the ardor of Edward's feelings in the cause of his 
 coimtry; for it is as impossible that a river should run
 
 404 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 backward to its source, as that any Irishman of a generous 
 nature can become acquainted with the real history of his 
 country, and not feel that she lias been an ill-used and 
 neglected land, and not struggle in the cause of her being 
 righted. Much has been done in the cause since the days 
 of which this story treats, and Edward was amongst those 
 who helped to achieve it; but much has still to be done, 
 and there is a glorious work in store for f)resent and future 
 Edward O'Connors. 
 
 Along with the books which spoke the cause of Ireland, 
 the mute evidences, also, of her former glory and civiliza- 
 tion were scattered through the room. Various ornaments 
 of elegant form, and wrought in the purest gold, were 
 tastefully arranged over the mantel-piece; some, from their 
 form, indicating their use, and others only affording matter 
 of ingenious speculation to the antiquary, but all bearing 
 evidence of early civilization. The frontlet of gold indi- 
 cated noble estate, and the long and tapering bodkin of 
 the same metal, with its richly enchased knob or pendant 
 crescent, implied the robe it once fastened could have been 
 of no mean texture, and the wearer of no mean rank. 
 Weapons were there, too, of elegant form and exquisite 
 workmanshi]:), Avrought in that ancient bronze, of such 
 wondrous temper that it carries effective edge and point. 
 The sword was of exact Phoenician mold; the double-eyed 
 spear-head formed at once for strength and lightness, 
 might have served as the model for a sculptor in arming 
 the head of Minerva. Could these be the work of an un- 
 cultivated people? Impossible! The harp, too, was there, 
 that unfailing mark of polish and social elegance. The 
 bard and barbarism could never be coeval. But a relic 
 was there, exciting still deejoer interest — an ancient crosier, 
 of curious workmanship, wrought in the precious metals 
 and partly studded with jewels; but few of the latter re- 
 mained, though the empty collets showed it had once been 
 costly in such ornaments. Could this be seen without re- 
 membering that the light of Christianity first dawned over 
 the western isles in Ireland? that there the Gospel was 
 first preached, there the work of salvation begun? 
 
 There be cold hearts to which these touching recollec- 
 tions do not pertain, and they heed them not; and some 
 there are, wdio, with a callousness which shocks sensibility, 
 have the ignorant effrontery to ask^ "Of what use are
 
 HAKDT A^fDT. 405 
 
 such recollections?" With such frigid utilitarians it would 
 be vain to argue; but this question, at least, may be put in 
 return: — Why should the ancient glories of Greece and 
 Eome form a large portion of the academic studies of our 
 youth? — why should the evidences of theii' arts and their 
 arms be held precious in museums, and similar evidences 
 of ancient cultivation be desjjised because tbey pertain to 
 another nation? Is it because they are Irish they are held 
 in contempt? Alas! in many cases it is so — ay, and even 
 (shame to say) within her own shores. But never may that 
 day arrive when Ireland shall be without enough of true 
 and fond hearts to cherish the memory of her ancient 
 glories, to give to her future sons the evidences of her 
 earliest western civilization, proving that their forefathers 
 were not (as those say who wronged and therefore would 
 malign them) a rabble of rude barbarians, but that brave 
 kings, and proud princes, and wise lawgivers, and just 
 judges, and gallant chiefs, and chaste and lovely women 
 were among them, and that inspired bards were there to 
 perpetuate such memories! 
 
 Gustavus had never before seen a crosier, and asked 
 what it was. On being informed of its name, he then said, 
 " But what is a crosier?" 
 
 " A bishop's pastoral staif," said EdAvard. 
 
 ''And why have you a bishop's staff, and swords, and 
 spears, hung up together?" 
 
 " That is not inapjiropriate," said Edward. " Unfort- 
 unately, the sword and the crosier have been frequently but 
 too intimate companions. Preaching the word of peace 
 has been too often the pretext for war. Tlie Spaniards, 
 for instance, in the name of the Gos^jel, committed the 
 most fearful atrocities." 
 
 " Oh, I know," said Gustavus, ''that was m the time of 
 bloody Mary and the Armada." 
 
 Edward wondered at the boy's ignorance, and saw in an 
 instant the source of his false application of the allusion to 
 the Spaniards. Gustavus had been taught to vaguely couple 
 the name of " bloody Mary " with everything bad, and that 
 of " good Queen Bess" with all that was glorious; and the 
 word " Spanish," in poor Gusty's head, had been hitherto 
 connected with two ideas, namelv, " liquorice " and the 
 "Armada." 
 
 Edward, without woimdmg the sensitive shame of ignor-
 
 406 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 aiit youth, gently set him right, and made him aware lie 
 had alluded to the conduct of the Spaniards in America 
 under Cortes and Pizarro. 
 
 For the tirst time in his life Gustavus was aware that 
 Pizarro was a real character. He had heard his grand- 
 mamma speak of a play of that name, and how great Mr. 
 Kemble was in Rollo, and how he saved a child; but as to 
 its belonging to history, it was a new light — the utmost 
 (jiusty knew about America being that it was discovered by 
 Columbus. 
 
 *'But the crosier," said Edward, " is amongst the most 
 interesting of Irish antiquities, and especially belongs to 
 an Irish collection, when you remember the earliest 
 preaching of Christianity in the western isles was iu Ire- 
 land." 
 
 " I did not know that," said the boy. 
 
 " Then you don't know why the shamrock is our na- 
 tional emblem?" 
 
 *' No," said Gustavus, "though I take care to mount 
 one in my hat every Patrick's day." 
 
 *' Well," said Edward, anxious to give Gustavus credit 
 for any knowledge he possessed, '^ you know at least it is 
 connected with the memory of St. Patrick, though you 
 don't know why. I will tell you. When St. Patrick first 
 preached the Christian faith in Ireland, bet'oi-e a powerful 
 chief and his people, when he spoke of one (Jod, and of the 
 Trinity, the chief asked how one could be in three. 
 St. Patrick, instead of attempting a theological delinition 
 of the faith, thought a simple image would best serve to 
 enlighten a simple people, and stoo])ing to the earth he 
 plucked from the green sod a shamrock, and holding up 
 the trefoil before them he bade them there behold one in 
 three. The chief, struck by the illustration, asked at 
 once to be baptized, and all liis sept followed his example. '^ 
 
 " I never lieard that before," said Gusty. " "Tis veiy 
 beautiful." 
 
 ** I will tell you something else connected with it," said 
 Edward. 
 
 *' After baptizing the chief, St. Patrick made an eloquent 
 exhortation to the assembled multitude, and in the course 
 of his address, while enforcing his urgent appeal with ap- 
 propriate gesture, as the hand which held his crosier, after 
 'oeing raised toward heaven, descended again toward the
 
 HANDY ANDY. 407 
 
 earth, the point of his staff, armed with metal, was driven 
 through the foot of the chief, who, fancying it was part of 
 tlie ceremony, and but a necessary testing of the firmness 
 of his faith, never winced. " 
 
 "He was a fine fellow," said Gusty. "And is that the 
 crosier?" he added, alluding to the one in Edward's col- 
 lection, and manifestly excited by Avhat he had heard. 
 
 " No," said Edward, " but one of early date, and belong- 
 ing to some of the first preachers of the Gospel amongst us. " 
 
 "" And have you other things here with such beautiful 
 stories belonging to them?" inquired Gusty, eager for more 
 of that romantic lore which youth loves so passionately. 
 
 " Not that I know of," answered Edward; " but if these 
 objects here had only tongues, if every sword, and belt, and 
 spear-head, and golden bodkin, and other trinket could 
 speak, no doubt we should hear stirring stories of gallant 
 warriors and their ladye-loves. " 
 
 "A}', that would be something to hear!" exclaimed 
 Gusty. 
 
 "Well," said Edward, "you may have maxiysuch stories 
 by reading the history of your country, which, if you have 
 not read, I can lend you books enough." 
 
 " Oh, thank you," said Gusty; " I should like it so 
 much." 
 
 Edward approached the book-shelf, and selected a vol- 
 ume he thought the most likely to interest so little prac- 
 ticed a reader; and when he turned round he saw Gusty 
 poising in his hand an antique Irish sword of bronze. 
 
 " Do you know what that is?" inquired Edward. 
 
 "I can't tell you the name of it," answered Gusty, 
 "but I suppose it was somethincj to stick a fellow." 
 
 Edward smiled at the characteristic reply, and told him 
 it was an antique Irish sword. 
 
 " A sword?" he exclaimed. " Isn't it short for a sword ?" 
 
 " All the swords of that day were short." 
 
 " When was that?" inquired the boy. 
 
 " Somewhere about two thousand years ago." 
 
 "Two thousand years!" exclaimed Gusty, in surprise. 
 " How is it possible vou can tell this is two thousand years 
 old?" 
 
 "Because it is made of the same metal and of the same 
 shape as the swords found at Cannae, where the Carthag- 
 inians fought the Romans."
 
 408 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 ''I know the Roman history/' said Gusty, eager to dis- 
 play his little bit of knowledge; ''I know the Roman 
 nistory. Romulus and Remus were educated by a wolf. " 
 
 Edward could not resist a smile^ which he soon sup- 
 pressed, and continued: "Such works as you now hold in 
 your hand are found in quantities in Ireland, and seldom 
 anywhere else in Europe, except in Italy, particularly at 
 Cannae, where some thousands of Carthaginians fell; and 
 when we find a sword of the same make and metal in places 
 so remote, it establishes a strong connecting link between 
 the people of Carthage and of Ireland, and at once shows 
 their date." 
 
 "How curious that is!" exclaimed Gusty; "and how 
 odd I never heard it before! Are there many such curious 
 things you know?" 
 
 " Many," said Edward. 
 
 " I wonder how people can find out such odd things," 
 said the boy. 
 
 "My dear boy," said Edward, "after getting a certain 
 amount of knowledge, other knowledge comes very fast; it 
 gathers like a snow-ball — or perhaps it would be better to 
 illustrate the fact by a milldam. You know, when the 
 water is low in the milldam, the miller can not drive his 
 wheel; but the moment the water comes up to a certain 
 level it has force to work the mill. And so it is with knowl- 
 edge; when once you get it up to a certain level, you can 
 * work your mill ' with this great advantage over the mill- 
 dam, that the stream of knowledge, once reaching the 
 working level, never runs dry. " 
 
 **0h, I wish I knew as much as you do," exclaimed 
 Gusty. 
 
 " And so you can if you wish it," said Edward. 
 
 Gusty sighed heavily, and admitted he had been very 
 idle. Edward told him he had plenty of time before him 
 to repair the damage. 
 
 A conversation then ensued, perfectly frank on the part 
 of the boy, and kind on Edward's side to all his deficien- 
 cies, which he found to be lamentable, as far as learning 
 went. He had some small smattering of Latin; but Gus- 
 tavus vowed steady attention to his tutor and his studies 
 for the future. Edward, knowing what a miserable 
 scholar the tutor himself was, offered to put Gustavus 
 tbrough Jus Latiu and Greek hijnsp|f. Gustavus accepteij.
 
 HAHTDT AKDT. 409 
 
 the offer with gratitude, and rode over every day to Mount 
 Eekar for his lesson; and;, under the iiitelHgent expla- 
 nation of Edward, the difficulties which had hitherto dis- 
 couraged him disajjpeared, and it was surprising what prog- 
 ress he made. At the same time he devoured Irish history, 
 and became rapidly tinctured with that enthusiastic love 
 of all that belonged to his country which he found in his 
 teacher; and Edward soon liailed, in the ardent neophyte, 
 a noble and intelligent spirit redeemed from ignorance 
 and rendered capable of higher enjoyments than those to 
 he derived merely from field sports. Edward, however, 
 did not confine his instructions to book-learning only; 
 there is much to be learned by living with the educated, 
 whose current conversation alone is instructive; and Ed- 
 ward had Gustavus with him as constantly as he could; 
 and after some time, when the frequency of Gusty's visits 
 to Mount Eskar ceased to excite any wonder at home, he 
 sometimes sjient several days together with Edward, to 
 whom he became continually more and more attached. 
 Edward showed great judgment in making his training 
 attractive to his pupil; he did not attend merely to his 
 head; he thought of other things as well; joined him in 
 the sports and exercises he knew, and taught him those in 
 which he was uninstructed. Fencing, for instance, was 
 one of these; Edward was a tolerable master of his foil, 
 and in a few months Gustavus, under his tuition, could 
 parry a thrust and make no sad attemjit at a hit himself. 
 His improvement in every wa}- was so remarkable, that it 
 was noticed by all, and its cause did not long remain 
 secret; and when it 2cas known, Edward O'Connor^s char- 
 acter stood higher than ever, and the whole country said 
 it was a lucky day for Gusty 0' Grady that he found such 
 a friend. 
 
 As the limits of our story would not permit the inter- 
 course between Edward and Gustavus to be treated in de- 
 tail, this general sketch of it has been given ; and in stating 
 its consequences so far, a peep into the future has been 
 granted by the author, Avith a benevolence seldom belong- 
 ing to his ill-natured and crafty tribe, who endeavor to 
 hoodwink their docile followers as much as possible, and 
 keep them in a state of ignorance as to coming events. 
 But now, having been so indulgent, we must beg to lav 
 hold of the skirts of our readers and pull them back again
 
 41 n HAKDT ANDY. 
 
 down the ladder into the private still, where Bridget piilleJ 
 back Andy very much after the same fashion, and the re. 
 Bults of which we must treat of in our next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 When Bridget dragged Andy back and insisted on his 
 going to bed — 
 
 jjc fic ^ "J* "I* "i^ "I* 
 
 No — I will not be too good-natured and tell my story in 
 that way; besides it would be a very difficult matter to tell 
 it; and why should an author, merely to oblige people, get 
 himself involved in a labyrinth of difficulties, and rack his 
 unfortunate brain to pick and choose Avords properly to tell 
 his story, yet at the same time to lead his readers through 
 the mazes of this very ticklish adventure, without a single 
 thorn scratching their delicate feelings, or as much as 
 making the smallest rent in the white muslin robe of pro- 
 priety? So, not to run unnecessary risks, the story must 
 go on another way. 
 
 * * * 4: * * * 
 
 When Shan More and the rest of the " big blackguards " 
 began to wake, the morning after the abduction, and gave a 
 turn or two under their heather coverlid, and rubbed their 
 eyes as the sun peeped through the '" curtains of the east'' 
 —for these were the only bed-curtains Shan More and the 
 rest of his companions ever had — they stretched themselves 
 and yawned, and felt very thirsty, for they had all been 
 blind drunk the night before, be it remembered; and Shan 
 More, to use his own expressive and poetic imagery, swore 
 that his tongue was *'as rough as a rat's back,'' while his 
 companions went no further than saying theirs were as 
 *' dry as a lime-burner's wig." 
 
 We should not be so particular in those minute details 
 but for that desire of truth which has guided us all through 
 ^his veracious history; and as in this scene, in particular, 
 we feel ourselves sure to be held seriously responsible for 
 every word, we are determined to be accurate to a nicety, 
 and set dovm every syllable with stenographic strictness. 
 
 " Where's the girl?" cried Shan, not yet sober. 
 
 " She's asleep with your sisther," was the answer. 
 
 ''Down -stairs?" inquired Shan.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 411 
 
 '' Yes/' said the other, who now knew that Big Jack 
 was more drimk than he at first thought him, by his using 
 the words sfoj'rs; for Jack when he was drunk was very 
 grand, and called down the ladder '' do'wn-siai?'s." 
 
 " Get me a drink o' wather," said Jack, " for I'm thun- 
 dherin' thirsty, and can't deludher that girl with soft words 
 till I wet my mouth. " 
 
 His attendant vagabond obeyed the order, and a large 
 pitcher full of water was handed to the master, who heaved 
 tt upward to his head and drank as audibly and nearly as 
 much as a horse. Then holding his hands to receive the 
 remaining contents of the pitcher, which his follow^ers 
 poured into his monstrous palms, he soused his face, which 
 he afterward wiped in a wisp of grass — the only towel of 
 Jack's which was not then at the wash. 
 
 Having thus made his toilet. Big Jack went down-stairs, 
 and as soon as his great bull-head had disappeared beneath 
 the trap, one of the men above said, " AVe'll have a shilloe 
 soon, boys." 
 
 And sure enough they did before long hear an extraordi- 
 nary row. Jack first roared for Bridget, and no answer 
 was returned; the call was rejieated with as little effect, and 
 at last a most tremendous roar was heard above, but not 
 from a female voice. Jack was heard below, swearing like 
 a trooper, and, in a minute or tAvo, back he rushed "up- 
 stairs," and began cursing his myrmidons most awfully, 
 and foaming at the mouth with rage. 
 
 " What's the matther?" cried the men. 
 
 ''Matther!" roared Jack; "oh, you 'tarnal villains! 
 You're a purty set to carry off a girl for a man — a purty 
 job you've made of it!" 
 
 " Arrah, didn't we bring her to you?" 
 
 " Her, indeed — bring her — much good what you brought 
 is to me!" 
 
 ''Tare an' ouns! what's the matther at all? We dunna 
 what you mane!" shouted the men, returning rage for 
 rage. 
 
 '^Come down, and you'll see what's the matther," said 
 Jack, descending the ladder; and the men hastened after 
 him. 
 
 lie led the w^ay to the further end of the cabin, where a 
 small glimmering of light was permitted to enter from the 
 top, and lifting a tattered piece of canvas, which served as
 
 412 HANDT ANDT. 
 
 a screen to the bed, he exclaimed, with a curse, *' Look 
 there, you blackguard!" 
 
 The men gave a shout of surprise, for — what do you 
 think they saw? — iVu empty bed! 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 It may be remembered that, on Father Phil^s recom- 
 mendation, Andy was to be removed out of the country to 
 place him beyond the reach of Larry Hogan's machinations^ 
 and that the proposed journey to London afforded a good 
 opportunity of taking him out of the way. Andy had 
 been desired by Squire Egan to repair to Merryvale ; but as 
 some days had elapsed and Andy had not made his appear- 
 ance, the alarm of the Squire that Andy might be tam- 
 pered with began to revive, and Dick Dawson was there- 
 fore requested to call at the Widow Rooney's cabin as he 
 was returning from the town, where some business with 
 Murphy, about the petition against Scatterbrain's return, 
 demanded his presence. 
 
 Dick, as it happened, had no need to call at the widow's, 
 for on his way to the town whom should he see approaching 
 but the renowned Andy himself. On coming up to him, 
 Dick pulled up his horse, and Andy pulled off his hat. 
 
 " God save your honor," said Andy. 
 
 " Why didn't you come to Merryvale, as you were bid?" 
 said Dick. 
 
 " I couldn't, sir, because — " 
 
 '' Hold your tongue, you thief; you know you never can 
 do what you're bid — ^you are always wrong one way or 
 other." 
 
 " You're hard on me, Misther Dick." 
 
 '' Did you ever do an}i;hing right? — I ask yourself?" 
 
 '* Indeed, sir, this time it was a rale bit o' business I had 
 to do." 
 
 "And well you did it, no doubt. Did you marry any 
 one lately?" said Dick, with a waggish grin and a wink. 
 
 " Faix, then, may be I did," said Andy, v^lh. a knowing 
 nod. 
 
 '^'^ And I hope Matfy is well?" said Dick. 
 
 " Ah, Misther Dick, you're always goin' or^ with your 
 jokin', so you are. So, you heerd o' that jol did you?
 
 HAXDT AXDT. 413 
 
 Faix, a purty lady she is— oh, it's not her at all I am mar 
 ried to, but another woman." 
 
 " Another woman!" exclaimed Dick, in surprise. 
 
 '•'Yes, sir, another woman — a kind cranhur." 
 
 "Another woman!" reiterated Dick, laughing; '^^ mar- 
 ried to two women in two days! Why you're worse than a 
 Turk!" 
 
 "Ah, Misther Dick!" 
 
 "YouTarquin!" 
 
 " Sure, sir, what harm's in it?" 
 
 "You Hehogabalus! !" 
 
 " Sure, it's no fault o' mine, sir. " 
 
 "Bigamy, by this and that, flat bigamy! You^ only 
 be hanged, as sure as your name's Andy." 
 
 " Sure, let me tell you how it was, sir, and youll see I 
 am quit of all harm, good or bad. 'Twas a pack o' black- 
 guards, you see, come to take olf Oonah, sir." 
 
 '' Oh, a case of abduction!" 
 
 "Yes, sir; so the women dhressed me up as a girl, and 
 the blackguards, instead of the seduction of Oonah, only 
 seduced me." 
 
 "Capital!" cried Dick; "well done, Andy! And who 
 seduced you?" 
 
 "Shan More, faith — no less," 
 
 "Ho, ho! a dangerous customer to play tricks on, 
 Andy." 
 
 "Sure enough, faith, and that's partly the rayson of 
 what happened; but, by good luck. Big Jack was blind 
 dhrunk when I got there, and I shammed screechin' so 
 well that his sisther took pity on me, and said she'd keep 
 me safe from harm in her own bed that night," 
 
 Dick gave a "view hallo" when he heard this, and 
 shouted with laughter, delighted at the thought of Shan 
 More, instead of carrying off a girl for himself, introducing 
 a gallant to his own sister. 
 
 "Oh, now I see how you jfi*e married," said Dick; "that 
 was the biter bit indeed." 
 
 " Oh, the devil a bit I'd ha' bit her only for the cross 
 luck with me, for I wanted to schame off out o' the place, 
 and escape; but she wouldn't let me, and cotch me and 
 brought me back." 
 
 " I should think she would, indeed," said Dick, laugh- 
 ing. " What next?"
 
 414 HANDY AXDY. 
 
 '' Wliy I drank a power o' jjunch, sir^ and was off my 
 guard you see, and couldn't keejj the saycret so well afther 
 that, and by dad she found it out/' 
 
 "Just what I would expect of her," said Dick. 
 " Well, do you know, sir, though the thrick was agen 
 her own brother, she laughed at it a power, and said I was 
 a great divil, but tliat she couldn't blame me. So then 
 I'd sthruv to coax her to let me make my escape, but she 
 told me to wait a bit till the men above was faster asleep; 
 but while I was waitin' for them to go to sleep, faix, I went 
 to asleep myself, I was so tired; and when Bridget, the 
 craythur, 'woke me in the morning, she was cryin' like a 
 spout afther a thunder-storm, and said her character would 
 be ruined when the story got abroad over the counthry, 
 and sure she darn't face the world if I wouldn't make her 
 an honest woman." 
 
 " The brazen baggage!" said Dick; " and what did you 
 say?" 
 
 " Why what could any man say, sir, afther that? Sure 
 her karacther would be gone if — " 
 
 " Gone," said Dick, " faith it might have gone further 
 before it fared worse." 
 
 *' Arrah! what do you mane, Misther Dick?" 
 
 " Pooh, pooh! Andy — you don't mean to say you married 
 that one?" 
 
 *'Faix, 1 did," said Andy. 
 
 "Well, Andy," said Dick, grinning, "by the powers, 
 you have done it this time! Good-morning to you!" and 
 Dickput spujs to his horse. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 Andy, " knocked all of a heap," stood in the middle of 
 the road, looking after Dick as he cantered down the slope. 
 It was seldom poor Andy was angry — but he felt a strong 
 sense of indignation choking him as Dick's parting words 
 still rung in his ears. " What does he mane?" said Andy, 
 talking aloud; "what does he mane?" he repeated, anx- 
 ious to doubt and therefore question the obvious con- 
 struction which Dick's words bore. " Misther Dick is 
 fond of a joke, and maybe this is one of his making; but 
 if it is, "'tis not a fair one, 'pon my soul: a DOor man has
 
 HANDY ANDT. 415 
 
 his feelings as well as a rich man. How would you like 
 your own wife to be spoke of that way, Misther Dick, as 
 proud as you ride your horse there — humph?" 
 
 And}', in great indignation, pursued his way toward his 
 mother's cabin to ask her blessing upon his marriage. On 
 his presenting himself there, both the old woman and 
 Oonah were in great delight at witnessing his safe return; 
 Oonah jjarticularly, for she, feeling that it was for her sake 
 Andy placed himself in danger, had been in a state of 
 great anxiety for the result of the adventure, and on seeing 
 him, absolutely threw herself into his arms, and embraced 
 him tenderly, impressing many a hearty kiss upon his lips, 
 between whiles that she vowed she would never forget his 
 generosity and courage, and ending with saying there was 
 notliing she would not do for him. 
 
 Now Andy was flesh and blood like other people, and as 
 the showers of kisses from Oonah 's ripe lips fell fast upon 
 him he was not insensible to the embrace of so very 
 pretty a girl — a girl, moreover, he had always had a 
 " sneakmg kindness " for, which Oonah's distance of man- 
 ner alone had hitherto made him keep to himself; but 
 now, when he saw her eyes beam gratitude, and her cheek 
 flush, after her strong demonstration of regard, and heard 
 her last words, so verif like a hint to a shy man, it must 
 be owned a sudden pang shot through poor Andy^s heart, 
 and he sickened at the thought of being married, which 
 placed the tempting prize before him hopelessly beyond his 
 reach. 
 
 He looked so blank, and seemed so unable to return 
 Oonah^s fond greeting, that she felt the pique which every 
 pretty woman experiences who fancies her favors disregard- 
 ed, and thought Andy the stupidest lout she ever came across. 
 Turning up her hair, which had fallen down in the excess 
 of her friendship, she walked out of the cottage, and, bit- 
 ing her disdainful lip, fairly cried for spite. 
 
 In the meantime, Andy popped down on his knees before 
 the widow, and said, "Give me your blessing, mother!" 
 
 *'For what, you omadhawn?" said his mother, fiercely; 
 for her woman's nature took part with Oonah's feelings, 
 which she quite comprehended, and she was vexed with 
 what she thought Andy's disgusting insensibility. *'For 
 what should I give you my blessing r"^ 
 
 *'Bekase I'm marri'd, ma'am."
 
 416 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 *'What!'^ exclaimed the mother. ''It's not marn'd 
 again you are? You're jokin' sure." 
 
 " Faix, it's no joke," said Andy, sadly, " I'm marri'd 
 sure enough; so give us your blessin', anyhow," cried he, 
 still kneeling. 
 
 " And who did you dar' for to marry, sir, if I make so 
 bowld to ax, without my lave or license?" 
 
 " There was no time for axin', mother — 'twas done in a 
 hurry, and I can't help it, so give us your blessing at once." 
 
 " Tell me who is she, before I give you my blessin'?" 
 
 " Shan Move's sister, ma'am." 
 
 ''What!" exclaimed the widow, staggering back some 
 paces. " Shan More's sisther, did you say — Bridget rliua,^ 
 is it?" 
 
 " Yis, ma'am." 
 
 " Oh, wirrasthru ! — plillelew ! — millia murther !" shouted 
 the mother, tearing her cap off her head. "Oh, blessed 
 Vargin, holy St. Domiuick, Pether an' Paul the 'possel, 
 what '11 I do? Oh, jiatther an' ave — you dirty bostlioon — 
 blessed angels and holy marthyrs! — kneelin' there in the 
 middle o' the flure as if nothing happened! — look down on 
 me this day, a poor vartuous dissolute woman! Oh, you 
 disgrace to me and all belonging to you; and is it the im- 
 pidence to ask my blessin' you have, Avhen it's a whippin* 
 at the cart's tail you ought to get, you shameless scape- 
 grace?" 
 
 She then went wringing her hands, and throwing them 
 upward in appeals to Heaven, while Andy still kept kneel- 
 ing in the middle of the cabin, lost in wonder. 
 
 The widow ran to the door and called Oonah in. 
 
 " "Who do you think that blackguard is marri'd to?" said 
 the widow. 
 
 " Married!" exclaimed Oonah, turning pale. 
 
 " Ay, marri'd, and who to, do you think? Why to 
 Bridget 7'hua." 
 
 Oonah screamed and clasped her hands. 
 
 Andy got up at last, and asked what they were making 
 such a rout about; he wasn't the first man who married 
 without asking his mother's leave; and wanted to know 
 what they had to " say agen it." 
 
 ''Oh, you barefaced scandal o' the world!" cried the 
 
 * Red-haired Bridget.
 
 HANDY ANDY. 417 
 
 widow, "to ax sitch a question — to many a thrampin* 
 athreel like that — a great red-headed jack — " 
 
 " She cun't help her hair/^ said Andy. 
 
 " I wish I could cut it off, and her head along with it, 
 the sthrap! Oh, blessed Vargin! to have my daughter-in* 
 
 1, 
 
 " What?" said Andy, getting rather alarmed. 
 
 " That all the country knows is — " 
 
 « What?" cried Andy. 
 
 " Not a fair nor a market-town doesn't know her as well 
 as — Oh, wirra! wirra!" 
 
 " Why, you don't mane to say anything agen her char- 
 ackther, do you?" said Andy. 
 
 " Charackther, indeed!" said his mother, with a sneer. 
 
 '"'By this an' that," said Andy, "if she was the child 
 unborn she couldn't make a greater hullabaloo about her 
 charackther than she did the mornin' afther." 
 
 " Afther what?" said his mother. 
 
 " Afther I was tuk away up to the hill beyant, and found 
 her there, and — but I b'lieve I didn't tell you how it hap- 
 pened. " 
 
 '' No," said Oonah, coming forward, deadly pale, and 
 listening anxiously, with a look of deep pity in her soft 
 eyes. 
 
 Andy then related his adventure as the reader already 
 knows it; and when it was ended, Oonah burst into tears 
 and in passionate exclamations blamed herself for all that 
 had happened, saying it was in the endeavor to save her 
 that Andy had lost himself. 
 
 " Oh, Oonah ! Oonah !" said Andy, with more meaning 
 in his voice than the girl had ever heard before, " it isn't the 
 loss of myself I mind, but I've lost you too. Oh, if you 
 had ever given me a tend her word or look before this day, 
 'twould never have happened, and that desaiver in the hills 
 never could have deludhered me. And tell me, lanna ma- 
 chree, is my suspicions right in what I hear — tell me the 
 worst at oncet — is she non compos 9" 
 
 " Oh, I never heard her called by that name before," 
 sobbed Oonah, " but she has a great many others just as 
 bad." 
 
 ''^Ow! ow! ow!" exclaimed Andy. " Now I know what 
 
 Misther Dick laughed at; well, death before dishonor — I'll 
 
 go list for a sojer, and never live with her!" 
 u
 
 41ii HANDT A2tDY« 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 It has been necessary in an earlier chapter to notice the 
 strange freaks madness will sometimes play. It was then 
 the object to show how strong aifections of the mind will 
 recall an erring judgment to its true balance; but, the 
 action of the counterpoise growing weaker by time, the 
 disease returns, and reason again kicks the beam. Such 
 was the old dowager's case: the death of her son recalled 
 her to herself; but a few days produced relapse, and she 
 was as foolish as ever. Nevertheless, as Polonius remarks 
 of Hamlet, 
 
 " There is method in his madness;" 
 
 80 in the dowager's case there was method — not of a sane 
 intention, as the old courtier implies of the Danish Prince, 
 but of insane birth — begot of a chivalrous feeling on an 
 enfeebled mind. 
 
 To make this clearly understood it is necessary to call 
 attention to one other peculiarity of madness — that, while 
 it makes those under its influence liable to say and enact 
 all sorts of nonsense on some subjects, it never impairs 
 fcheir powers of observation on those which chance to come 
 within the reach of the undiseased portion of the mind; 
 and moreover, they are quite as capable of arriving at just 
 conclusions upon what they so see aud hear, as the most 
 reasonable person, and, perhaps, in proportion as the rea- 
 soning power is limited within a smaller compass, so the 
 capability of observation becomes stronger by being con- 
 centrated. 
 
 Such was the case with the old dowager, who, while Fur- 
 long was " doing devotion " to Augusta and appeared the 
 pink of faithful swains, saw very clearly that Furlong did 
 not like it a bit, and would gladly be olf his bargain. Yea, 
 while the people in their sober senses on the same plane 
 with the parties were taken in, the old lunatic, even from 
 the toppling height of her own mad chimney-pot, could 
 look down and see that Furlong would not marry Augusta 
 if he could help it. 
 
 It was even so. Furlong had acted under the influenoe
 
 HANDY ANOr. 419 
 
 of terror when poor Augusta, shoved into his bedroom 
 through tlie devihnent of that rascally imp, Ratty, and 
 found there, through the evil destiny of Andy, was flung 
 into his arms by her enraged father, and accepted as his 
 wife. The immediate hurry of the election had delayed 
 the marriage — the duel and its consequences further inter- 
 rupted '* the happy event" — and O'Grady's death caused 
 a f urtlier postponement. It was delicately hinted to Fur- 
 long, that when matters had gone so far as to the wedding- 
 dresses being ready, that the sooner the contracting par- 
 ties under such circumstances were married, the better. 
 But Furlong, Math that aflFectation of propriety which be- 
 longs to his time-serving tribe, pleaded the *' regard to 
 appearances" — **so soon after the ever-to-be-deplored 
 event" — and other such specious excuses, which were but 
 covers to his own rascality, and used but to postpone the 
 *' wedding-day." The truth was, the moment Furlong had 
 no longer the terrors of O'Grady's pistol before his eyes, 
 h« had resolved never to take so bad a match as that with 
 Augusta appeared to be — indeed was, as far as regarded 
 money; though Furlong should only have been too glad to 
 be permitted to mix his plebeian blood with the daughter 
 of a num of high family, whose crippled circumstances and 
 consequent truckling conduct had reduced him to the 
 wretched necessity of making such a cur as Furlong the 
 inmate of his house. But so it was. 
 
 The family began at last to suspect the real state of the 
 case, and all were surprised except the old dowager; she 
 had suspected what was coming, and had prepared herself 
 for it. All her pistol practice was with a view to call Fur- 
 long to the *' last arbitrament" for this slight to her house. 
 Gusty was too young, she considered, for the duty; there- 
 fore she, in her fantastic way of looking at the matter, 
 looked upon herself n^ the head of the family, and, as such, 
 determined to resent the affront put upon it. 
 
 But of her real design the family at Neck-or-nothing Hall 
 had not the remotest notion. Of course, an old lady going 
 about with a pistol, powder-flask, and bullets, and prac- 
 ticing on the trunks of the trees in the park, would not 
 pass without observation, and surmises there were on the 
 subject; then her occasional exclamation of "Tremble, 
 villain!" would escape her; and sometimes in the family 
 circle, after sitting for a while in a state of abstraction, she
 
 4S0 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 would lift her attenuated hand armed with a knitting- 
 needle or a ball of worsted, and assuming the action of 
 poising a pistol, execute a smart clich with her tongue, and 
 say, '' I hit him that time." 
 
 Tliese exclamations, mdicative of vengeance, were sup- 
 posed at length by the family to apply to Edward O'Con- 
 nor, but excited pity rather than alarm. When, however, 
 one morning, tlie dowager was nowhere to be found, and 
 Ratty and the pistols had also disappeared, an inquiry was 
 instituted as to the old lady's whereabouts, and Mount 
 Eskar was one of the first places where she was sought, but 
 without success; and all other inquiries were equally un- 
 availing. 
 
 The old lady had contrived, with that cunning peculiar 
 to insane people, to get away from the house at an early 
 hour in the morning, unknown to all except Ratty, to whom 
 she confided her intention, and he managed to get her out 
 of the domain unobserved, and thence together they pro- 
 ceeded to Dublin in a post-chaise. 
 
 It was the day after this secret expedition was undertaken 
 that Mr. Furlong was sitting in his private apartment at 
 the Castle, doing "the state some service" by reading the 
 morning pajjers, which heavy official duty he relieved oc- 
 casionally by turning to some scented notes which lay near 
 a morocco writing-case, whence they had been drawn by 
 the lisping dandy to flatter his vanity. He had been carry- 
 ing on a correspondence with an anonymous fair one, in 
 whose heart, if her Avords might be believed. Furlong had 
 made desperate havoc. 
 
 It happened, however, that these notes were all fictitious, 
 being the work of Tom Loftus, who enjoyed playing on a 
 puppy as much as playing on the organ; and he had the 
 satisfaction of seeing Furlong going through his paces in 
 certain squares he had appointed, wearing a flower of 
 Tom's choice and going through other antics which Tom 
 had demanded under the signature of " Phillis," written in 
 a delicate hand on pink satin note-paper with a lace bor- 
 der; one of the last notes suggested the possibility of a visit 
 from the lady, and, after assurances of "secrecy and hon- 
 or "had been returned by Furlong, he was anxiously ex- 
 pecting "what would become of it;" and filled with pleas- 
 ing reflections of what " a devil of a fellow " he was among 
 the ladies, he occasionally paced the room bef(>re a hand-
 
 HANDY AXDY. 421 
 
 some dressing-glass (with 'whicli his apartment was always 
 furnished), and ran his fingers through his curls with a 
 complacent smile. While thus occupied, and in such a 
 frame of mmd, the hall-messenger entered the apartment, 
 and said a lady wished to see him, 
 
 "A lady I" exclaimed Furlong, in delighted surprise. 
 
 " She won't give her name, sir, but — " 
 
 '-'Show her up! show her up!" exclaimed the Lothario, 
 eagerly. 
 
 All anxiety, he awaited the appearance of his donna; and 
 quite a donna she seemed, as a commanding figure, dressed 
 in black, and enveloped in a rich veil of the same, glided 
 into the room. 
 
 ''How vewy Spanish!" exclaimed Furlong, as he ad- 
 vanced to meet his incognita, who, as soon as she entered, 
 locked the door, and withdrew the key. 
 
 " Quite pwacticed in such secwet affairs," said Furlong, 
 slyly. "Fai'lady, allow me to touch you' fai' hand, and 
 lead you to a seat." 
 
 The mysterious stranger made no answer; but lifting her 
 long veil, turned round on the lisping dandy, who stagger- 
 ed back, when the Dowager O'Grady appeared before him, 
 drawn up to her full height, and anything but an agreea- 
 ble expression in her eye. She stalked up toward him, 
 something in the style of a specter in a romance, which she 
 was not very unlike; and as she advanced, he retreated, 
 until he got the table between him and this most unwel- 
 come apparition. 
 
 " I am come," said the dowager, with an ominous tone of 
 voice. 
 
 " Vewy happy of the hono', I am sure, Mistwess O'Gwa- 
 dy," faltered Furlong. 
 
 "The avenger has come." Furlong opened his eyes. 
 "I have come to wash the stain!" said she, tapping her 
 fingers in a theatrical manner on the tajole, and, as it hap- 
 pened, she pointed to a large blotch of ink on the table- 
 cover. Furlong opened his eyes wider than ever, and 
 thought this the queerest bit of madness that he had ever 
 heard of; however, thinking it best to humor her, he an- 
 swered, " Yes, it was a little awkwa'dness of mine — I upset 
 the inkstand the othe' day. " 
 
 " Do you mock me, sir?" said she, with increasing bit- 
 terness.
 
 13^ HANDY ANDT. 
 
 "La, no! Mistwess O'Gwady.'* 
 
 "I have come, I say, to wash out in your blood the staia 
 you have dared to put on the name of O'Grady.-" 
 
 Furlong gasped with mingled amazement and fear. 
 ^^ Tremble, villain!" she said; and she pointed toward 
 him her long, attenuated finger with portentous so- 
 lemnity. 
 
 " I weally am quite at a loss, Mistwess O'Gwady, to com* 
 pwehend — " 
 
 Before he could finish his sentence, the dowager had 
 drawn from the depth of her side-pockets a brace of pistols, 
 and presenting them to Furlong, said, "Be at a loss no 
 longer, except the loss of life which may ensue; take your 
 choice of weapons, sir. " 
 
 " Gwacious Heaven!" exclaimed Furlong, trembling from 
 head to foot. 
 
 '' You won't choose, then?" said the dowager. " Well, 
 there's one for you;" and she laid a pistol before him with 
 as courteous a manner as if she were making him a birth- 
 day present. 
 
 Furlong stared dowTi upon it with a look of horror. 
 
 " Now we must toss for choice of ground," said the dow- 
 ager. ''I have no money about me, for I paid my last 
 half-crown to the postboy, but this will do as well 
 for a toss as an}i:hing else;" and she laid her hands on the 
 dressing-glass as she spoke. " Now the call shall be * safe,' 
 or 'smash;' whoever calls 'safe,' if the glass comes down 
 unbroken, has the choice, and vice versd. I call first — 
 ' Smash,' " said the dowager, as she flung up the dressing- 
 glass, which fell in shivers on the floor. *'I have won,'' 
 said she; ''oblige me, sir, by standing in that far comer. 
 I have the light in my back — and you will have something 
 else in yours before long; take your ground, sir." 
 
 Furlong, finding hmiself thus cooped up with a mad 
 woman, in an agony of terror suddenly bethought himself 
 of instances he had heard of escape, under similar circum- 
 stances, by coinciding to a certain extent with the views of 
 the insane people, and suggested to the dowager that he 
 hoped she would not insist on a duel without their having 
 a " friend " present. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sii*," said the old lady; " I quite 
 forgot that form, in the excitement of the moment, though
 
 HANDY AXDY. 423 
 
 I have not overlooked tlie necessity altogether, and have 
 come provided with one/' 
 
 " Allow me to wing for him,'" said Furlong, rushing to 
 the bell. 
 
 ''Stop!" exclaimed the dowager, leveling her pistol at 
 the bell-pull; "touch it, and 30U are a dead man!" 
 
 Furlong stood riveted to the spot where his rush had 
 been arrested. 
 
 "No interruption, sir, till this little affair is settled. 
 Here is my friend," she added, putting her hand into her 
 pocket and pulling out the wooden cuckoo of her clock. 
 "My little bird, sir, will see fair between us;" and she 
 perched the painted wooden thing, with a bit of feather 
 grotesquely sticking up out of its nether end, on the mo- 
 rocco letter-case. 
 
 " Oh, Lord!" said Furlong. 
 
 "He's a gentleman of the nicest honor, sir!" said the 
 dowager, pacing back to the window. 
 
 Furlong took advantage of the opportunity of her back 
 being turned, and rushed at the bell, which he pulled with 
 great fury. 
 
 I'he dowager wheeled round with haste. " So you have 
 rung," said she; "but it .shall not avail you — the door is 
 locked; take your weajjon, sir, quick! — what! — a coward!" 
 
 " Weally, Mistwess O'Gwady, I can not think of deadly 
 arbitrament \vith a lady." 
 
 " Less would you like it with a man, poltroon!" said she, 
 with an exaggerated expression of contempt in her manner. 
 "However," she added, "if you are a coward, you shall 
 have a coward's punishment. " She went to a corner where 
 stood a great variety of handsome canes, and laying hold 
 of one, began soundly to thrash Furlong, who feared to 
 make any resistance or attempt to disarm her of the cane^ 
 for the pistol was yet in her other hand. 
 
 The bell was answered by the servant, who, on finding 
 the dour locked, and hearing the row inside, began to 
 knock and inquire loudly what was the matter. The 
 question was more loudly answered by Furlong, who roared 
 out, " Bweak the door! b weak the door!" interlarding his 
 directions with cries of "mu'der!" 
 
 The door at length was forced. Furlong rescued, and the 
 old lady separated from him. She became perfectly calm 
 the moment other persons appeared, and was replacing the
 
 424 HANDT ANDY. 
 
 pistols in her pocket, when Furlong requested the " dwead- 
 f ul weapons " might be seized. The old lady gave up thd 
 pistols very quietly, but laid hold of her bird and put it 
 back into her pocket. 
 
 "This is a dweadful violation!" said Furlong, " and mY 
 life is not safe unless she is bound ove' to keep the peace. * 
 
 "Pooh! pooh!" said one of the gentlemen from the ad- 
 jacent office, who came to the scene on hearing the uproar, 
 "binding over an old lady to keep the peace — nonsense!" 
 
 "I insist upon it," said Furlong, with that stubbornness 
 for which fools are so remarkable. 
 
 " Oh — very well!" said the sensible gentleman, who left 
 the room. 
 
 A party, pursuant to Furlong's determination, proceeded 
 to the head police-office close by the Castle, and a large 
 mob gathered as they went down Cork-hill and followed 
 them to Exchange Court, where they crowded before them 
 in front of the office, so that it was with difficulty the prin- 
 cipals could make their way through the dense mass. 
 
 At length, however, they entered the office; and wlien 
 Major Sir heard any gentleman attached to the Govern- 
 ment wanted his assistance, of course he put any other 
 case aside, and liad the accuser and accused called up be- 
 fore him. 
 
 Furlong made his charge of assault and battery, with in- 
 tent to murder, etc. , etc. 
 
 " Some mad old rebel, I suppose," said Major Sir. " Do 
 you remember '98, ma'am?" said tlie majoi-. 
 
 "Indeed I do, sir — and I remember you too: Major Sir 
 I have the honor to address, if I don't mistake." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. What then?" 
 
 " I remember well in '98 when you were searching for 
 rebels, you thought a man was concealed in a dairy-yard in 
 the neighborhood of my mother's house, major, in Stephen's 
 Green; and you thought he was hid in a hay-rick, and ordered 
 your sergeant to ask for the loan of a spit from my mother's 
 kitchen to probe the haystack." 
 
 " Oh, then, madam, your mother was loyal, I suppose." 
 
 "Most loyal, sir." 
 
 " Give the lady a chair,' said the major. 
 
 " Thank you, I don't want it — but, major, when you 
 asked for the spit, my mother thought you were goino to 
 practice one of your delightfully ingenious bits of puuish-
 
 HANDY ANDY. 435 
 
 ment, and asked the sergeant who it tvas you were going 
 to roast r 
 
 The major grew livid on the bench where he sat, at this 
 awkward reminiscence of one of his friends, and a dead 
 silence reigned through the crowded otfice. He recovered 
 himself, however, and addressed Mrs. O'Grady in a mum- 
 bling manner, telling her she must give security to keej) 
 the peace, herself — and find friends as sureties. On asking 
 her had she any friends to appear for her, she declared she 
 had. 
 
 " A gentleman of the nicest honor, sir,*' said the dow- 
 ager, pulling her cuckoo from her pocket, and holding it 
 up in view of the whole office. 
 
 A shout of laughter, of course, followed. The affair be- 
 came at once understood in its true light; a mad old lady 
 —a paltry coward — etc., etc. Those Avho know the excit- 
 ability and fun of an Irish mob, will not wonder that, when 
 the story got circulated from the office to the crowd with- 
 out, which it did with lightning rapidity, the old lady, on 
 being placed in a hackney-coach which was sent for, was 
 hailed with a chorus of '"' Cuckoo!" by the multitude, one 
 half of which ran after the coach as long as they could 
 keep pace with it, shouting forth the spring-time call, and 
 the other half followed Furlong to the Castle, with hisses 
 and other more articulate demonstrations of their contempt. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 The fat and fair widow Flanagan had, at length, given 
 up shilly-shallying, and yielding to the fervent entreaties of 
 Tom Durfy, had consented to name the happy day. She 
 would have some little ways of her own about it, however, 
 and instead of being married in the country, insisted on the 
 nuptial knot being tied in Dublin. Thither the widow re- 
 paired with her swain to complete the stipulated time of 
 residence within some metropolitan parish before the wed- 
 ding could take place. In the meanwhile they enjoyed all 
 the gayety the capital presented, the time glided swiftly by, 
 and Tom was within a day of being made a happy man, 
 when, as he was hastening to the lodgings of the fair 
 widow, who was waiting with her bonnet and shawl on to 
 be escorted to the botanical gardens at Glasnevin^ he was
 
 426 HANDY AKDT. 
 
 accosted by an odd-looking jierson of somewhat sinistei 
 aspect. 
 
 "1 believe I have the honor of addressing Misther Durfy, 
 sir?" Tom answered in the aflfirmative. '* Thomas Dnriy, 
 Esquire^, I think, sir?" 
 
 ^^Yes." 
 
 ''This is for yon, sir,'' he said, handing Tom a piece of 
 flirty printed paper, and at the same time laying his 
 hand on Tom's shoulder and executing a smirking sort of 
 grm, which he meant to be the pattern of politeness, added, 
 " You'll excuse me, sir, but I arrest you under a warrant 
 from the High Sherifl; of the city of Dublin; always sorry, 
 sir, for a gintleman in defficulties, but it's my duty." 
 
 "You're a bailiff, then?" said Tom. 
 
 *' Sir," said the bum, 
 
 " ' Honor and shame from no condition rise; 
 Act well your part — there all the honor lies.'" 
 
 "I meant no offense," said Tom. ''I only meant — " 
 
 ''I understand, sir — I understand. These little defficul- 
 ties startles gintlemen at first — you've not been used to 
 arrest, I see, sir?" 
 
 " Never in my life did such a thing happen before," said 
 Tom. " I live generally, thank God, where a bailiff daren't 
 show his face." 
 
 ''Ah, sir," said the bailiff, with a grin, "them rustic 
 habits betrays the children o' nature often when they come 
 to town; but we are so fisticated here in the metropolis, 
 that we lay our hand on strangers aisy. But you'd better not 
 stand in the street, sir, or people will understand it's an 
 arrest, sir; and I sujjpose you wouldn't like the exposure. 
 I can simperise in a gintleman 's feelings, sir. If you walk 
 aisy on, sir, and don't attempt to escape or rescue. 111 keep 
 '-1 gentlemanlike distance." 
 
 Tom walked on in great perplexity for a few steps, not 
 knowing what to do. The hour of his rendezvous had 
 struck; he knew how impatient of neglect the widow al- 
 ways was; he at one moment thought of asking the bailiff 
 to allow him to proceed to her lodgings at once, there 
 boldly to avow what had taken place and ask her to dis- 
 charge the debt; but tliis his pride would not allow him to 
 do. As he came to the corner of a street, he got a tap on 
 the elbow from the bailiff, who, with a jerking motion of
 
 his tliumb and a wiuk, said in a confidential tone to Tom, 
 " Down this street, sir — that's the way to the pies' n 
 (prison)." 
 
 "Prison!" exclaimed Tom, halting involuntarily at the 
 word, 
 
 "Shove on, sir — shove on!" hastily repeated the sheriff's 
 oiiicer, urging his orders by a nudge or two on Tom's 
 elbow. 
 
 " Don't shove me, sir!" said Tom, rather angrUy, " oi 
 by G— " 
 
 "Aisy, sir — aisy!" said the bailiff; "though I feel foi 
 the defficulties of a gintleman, the caption must be made, 
 sir. If you don't like the pris'n, I have a nice little room 
 o' my own, sir, Avhere you can wait, for a small considera- 
 tion, until you got get bail." 
 
 "I'll go there, then," said Tom. "Go through as pri- 
 vate streets as you can." 
 
 "Give me half-a-guinea for my trouble, sir, and 111 
 ambulate vou through lanes every /w^ o' the way." 
 
 " Very well," said Tom. 
 
 They now struck into a shabby street, and thence wend- 
 ed through stable- lanes, filthy alleys, up greasy broken 
 steps, through one close, and down steps in another — 
 threaded dark passages whose debouchures were blocked up 
 with posts to prevent vehicular conveyance, the accumu- 
 lated dirt of years sensible to the tread from its lumpy un- 
 evenness, and the stagnant air rife with pestilence. Tom 
 felt increasing disgust at every step he proceeded, but any- 
 thing to him appeared better than being seen in the public 
 streets in such company; for, until they got into these 
 labyrinths of nastiness, Tom thought he saw in the looks 
 of every passer-by, as plainly told as if the words were 
 spoken, " There goes a fellow under the care of the bailiff." 
 In these by-ways, he had not any objection to speak to his 
 companion, and for the first time asked him what he was 
 arrested for. 
 
 " At the suit of Mr. M'Kail, sir." 
 
 "Oh! the tailor?" said Tom. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the bailiff. "And if you would not 
 consider it trifling Avith the feelings of a gintleman in def- 
 ficulties, I would make the playful observation, sir, that 
 it's quite in character to be arrested at the suii of a tailor 
 He! he! he!"
 
 4V8 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 " You're a wag, I see," said Tom. 
 
 " Oh, no, sir, only a poetic turn: a small affection I hav« 
 certainly for Judy Mot, but my rale passion is the muses. 
 We are not far now, sir, from my little bower of repose — 
 which is the name I give my humble abode — small, but 
 snug, sir. You^ll see another gintleman there, sir, before 
 you. He is waitin' for bail those three or four days, sir — 
 can't pay as he ought for the coramodation, but he's a friend 
 o' mine, I may almost say, sir — a litherary gintleman — 
 them litherary gintlemen is always in defficulties mostly. 
 I suppose you're a litherary gintleman, sir, although you're 
 rather ginteely dhressed for one?" 
 
 " No," said Tom, " I am not." 
 
 " I thought you wor, sir, by being acquainted with this 
 other gintleman." 
 
 "An acquaintance of mine!" said Tom, with surprise. 
 
 *'Yis, sir. In short it was through him I found out 
 where you wor, sir. I have had the wret agen you for 
 some time, but couldn't make you off, till my friend says I 
 must carry a note from him to you." 
 
 "Where is the note?" inquired Tom. 
 
 "Not ready yet, sir. It's po'thry he's writin' — some- 
 thing ' pithy ' he said, and ' lame ' too. I dunna how a 
 thing could be pithy and lame together, but them potes has 
 hard words at command." 
 
 " Then you came away without the note?" 
 
 " Yis, sir. As soon as I found out where you were 
 stopping I ran off directly on Mr. M'Kail's little business. 
 You'll excuse the liberty, sir; but we must all mind our 
 professions; though, indeed, sir, if you b'lieve me, I'd 
 rather nab a rhyme than a gintleman any day; and if I 
 could get on the press I'd quit the shoulder-tapping pro- 
 fession. " 
 
 Tom cast an eye of wonder on the bailiff, which the lat- 
 ter comprehended at once; for with habitual nimbleness 
 he could nab a man's thoughts as fast as his person. 
 
 " I know what you're thinkin', sir — could one of my pro- 
 fession pursue the muses? Don't think, sir, I mane I could 
 write the ' laders ' or the pollitik'l articles, but the criminal 
 cases, sir — the robberies and oflfinses — with the watch-house 
 cases — together with a httle po'thry now and then. I 
 think I could be useful, air. and do better than some of the
 
 HAISTDT ANDY. 429 
 
 rhaps that pick up their ha'pence that way. But here's 
 my place, sir — my little bower of repose." 
 
 He knocked at' the door of a small tumble-down house 
 in a filthy lane, the one window it presented in front be- 
 ing barred Avitli iron. Some bolts were drawn inside, and 
 though the man who opened the door was forbidding in his 
 aspect, he did not refuse to let Tom in. The portal was 
 hastily closed and bolted after they had entered. The 
 smell of the house was pestilential — the entry dead dark. 
 
 " Give me your hand, sir," said the bailiff, leading Tom 
 forward. They ascended some creaking stairs, and the 
 bailiff, fumbling for some time with a key at a door, un- 
 locked it and shoved it open, and then led in his captive. 
 Tom saw a shabby-genteel sort of person, whose back was 
 toward him, directing a letter. 
 
 "Ah, Goggins!" said the writer, "3'ou're come back in 
 the nick of time. I have finished now, and you may take 
 the letter to Mister Durfy." 
 
 " You may give it to him yourself, sir," replied Gog- 
 gins, "for here he is." 
 
 " Indeed!" said the writer, turning round. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Tom Durfv, in surprise; '* James 
 Reddy!" 
 
 " Even so," said James, with a sentimental air: 
 
 " ' The paths of glory lead but to the grave.' 
 
 Literature is a bad trade, my dear Tom! — 'tis ungrate- 
 ful world — men of the highest aspirations may lie in gail 
 for all the world cares; not that you come within the pale 
 of the worthless ones; this is good-natured of you to come 
 and see a friend in trouble. You deserve, my dear Tom, 
 that you should have been uppermost in my thoughts; for 
 here is a note I have just written to you, inclosing a copy 
 of verses to you on your marriage — in short, it is an epi- 
 thalamium." 
 
 " That's what I told you, sir," said Goggins to Tom. 
 
 "May the devil burn you and your epithalamium!" said 
 Tom Durfy, stamping round the little room. 
 
 James Eeddy stared in wonder, and Goggins roared, 
 laughing. 
 
 " A prettv compliment you've paid me. Mister Eeddy, 
 this fine morning," said Tom; "you tell a bailiff where 1
 
 430 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 live, that you may send your infernal verses to me, and you 
 get me arrested." 
 
 ''Oh, murder!" exclaimed James. "Tm. very sorry, 
 my dear Tom; but, at the same time, 'tis a capital inci- 
 dent! How it would work up in a farce!" 
 
 "How funny it is!" said Tom in a rage, eying James 
 as if he could have eaten him. " Bad luck to all poetry 
 and poetasters! By the 'tarnal war, I wish every poet, 
 from Homer down, was put into a mortar and pounded to 
 death!" 
 
 James poured forth expressions of sorrow for the mis- 
 chance; and extremely ludicrous it was to see one man 
 making apologies for trying to pay his friend a compli- 
 ment; his friend swearing at him for his civility, and the 
 bailiff grinning at them both. 
 
 In this triangular dilemma we will leave them for the 
 present. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 Edward O'Connor, on hearing from Gustavus of the 
 old dowager's disappearance from Neck-or-nothing Hall, 
 Joined in the eager inquiries which were made about her; 
 and his being directed with more method and judgment 
 than those of others, their result was more satisfactory. 
 He soon "took up the trail/' to use an Indian phrase, and 
 he and Gusty were not many hours in posting after the old 
 lady. They arrived in town early in the morning, and lost 
 no time in casting about for information. 
 
 One of the first places Edward inquired at was the inn 
 where the post-chaise generally drove to from the house 
 where the old dowager had obtained her carriage in 
 the country; but there no trace was to be had. Next, the 
 principal hotels were referred to, but as yet without success; 
 when, as they turned into one of the leadmg streets in con- 
 tinuance of their search, their attention was attracted by a 
 crowd swaying to and fro in that peculiar manner which 
 indicates there is a fight inside of it. Great excitement 
 prevailed on the verge of the crowd, where exclamations 
 escaped from those who could get a peep at the fight. 
 
 '* The little chap has great heart!" cried one. 
 
 '*■ But the sweep is the biggest, " said another.
 
 HANDY AXDY. 431 
 
 ^'Well done, HorisJi!"* cried a blackguard, who eaj^yed 
 the triumph of his fellow. 
 
 ** Bravo! little fellow," rejoined a genteel person, who 
 rejoiced in some successful hit of the other combatant. 
 There is an inherent love m men to see a fight, which 
 Edward O'Connor shared with inferior men; and if he had 
 not peeped into the ring, most assuredly Gusty would. 
 What was their astonishment when they got a glimpse of 
 the pugilists, to perceive Eatty was one of them — his an- 
 tagonist being a sweep, taller by a head, and no bad hand 
 at the " noble science. '' 
 
 Edward's first impulse was to separate them, but Gusty 
 requested he would not, saying that he saw by Ratty's eye he 
 was able to '' lick the fell3w." Eatty certainly showed great 
 fight; what the sweep had in suj^erior size was equalized by 
 the superior " game" of the gentleman-boy, to whom the 
 indomitable courage of a high-blooded race had descended, 
 and who would sooner have died than yield. Besides, Eatty 
 was not deficient in the use of his "bunch of fives," hit 
 hard for his size, and was very agile; the sweep sometimes 
 made a rush, grappled, and got a fall; but he never went 
 in without getting something from Eatty to ''remember 
 him," and was not always uppermost. At last, both wei-e 
 so far punished, and the combat not being likely to be 
 speedily ended (for the sweep was no craven), that the by- 
 standers interfered, declaring that '" they ought to be 
 separated, " and they were. 
 
 While the crowd was dispersing Edward called a coach; 
 and before Eatty could comprehend how the afl'air was 
 managed, he was shoved into it and driven from the scene 
 of action. Eatty had a confused sense of hearing loud 
 shouts — of being lifted somewhere — of directions given — 
 the rattle of iron steps chnking sharply — two or three 
 fierce bangs of a door that wouldn't shut, and then an aw- 
 ful shaking, which roused him up from the corner of the 
 vehicle, into which he had fallen in the first moment of 
 exhaustion. Eatty " shook his feathers," dragged his hair 
 from out of Ins eyes, which were getting very black in- 
 deed, and applied his handkerchief to his nose, which was 
 much in need of that delicate attention; uud when the sense 
 
 * The name of a celebrated sweep in Ireland, "whose name is ap- 
 plied to the whole.
 
 4o2 HANDY AXDT. 
 
 of perfect vision was restored to liira, which was not foi 
 some time (all the colors of the rainbow dancing before 
 Ratty^s eyes for many seconds after the tight), what was his 
 surprise to see Edward O'Connor and Gusty sitting on the 
 opposite seat! 
 
 It was some time before Ratty coidd quite comprehend 
 his pi'esent situation; but as soon as he was made sensible 
 of it, and could answer, the first question asked of liim was 
 about his grandmother. Ratty fortunately remembered the 
 name of the hotel where she put up, though he had left it 
 as soon as the old lady had proceeded to the Castle — had 
 lost his way — and got engaged in a quarrel with a sweep in 
 the meantime. 
 
 The coach was ordered to drive to the hotel named; and 
 how the fight occurred was the next question. 
 
 " The sweep was passing by, and I called him ' snow- 
 ball,'" said Ratty; " and the blackguard returned an impu- 
 dent answer, and I hit him." 
 
 " You had no riglit to call him ' snow-ball,'" said Ed- 
 ward. 
 
 " I always called the sweeps ' snow-ball ' down at the 
 Hall," said Ratty, '' and they never answered." 
 
 " When you are on your own territory you may say what 
 you please to your dependents. Ratty, and they dare not 
 answer; or to use a vidgar saying, ' A cock may crow on his 
 own dunghill." 
 
 ''I'm no dunghill cock!" said Ratty, fiercely. 
 
 *' Indeed you're not," said Edward, laying his hand kindly 
 on the boy's shoulder; " you have plentv of courage." 
 
 " I'd have licked him," said Ratty, "'if they'd have let 
 me have two or three rounds more. " 
 
 " My dear boy, other things are needful in this world 
 besides courage. Prudence, temper, and forbearance are 
 required; and this may be a lesson to you, to remember, 
 that, when you get abroad in the world, you are very little 
 cared about, however great your consequence may be at 
 home; and I am sure you can not be proud about having 
 got into a quarrel with a siceep." 
 
 Ratty made no answer — his blood began to cool — he be- 
 came every moment more sensible that he had received 
 heavy blows. His eyes became more swollen, he snuffled 
 more in his speech, and his blackened condition altogether.
 
 HANDY AXDT. 433 
 
 from gutter, soot., and tlira.^hing, convinced him a fight 
 with a sweep was not an enviable achievement. 
 
 The coach drew up at the hotel. Edward left Gusty to 
 see about the dowager, and made an appointment for 
 Gusty to meet him at his own lodgings in an hour; while 
 he in the mterim should call on Dick Dawson, who was in 
 town on his way to London. 
 
 Edward shook hands wuth Ratty, and bade him kindly 
 good-bye. "You're a stout fellow, Ratty," said he, "but 
 i-emember this old saying, ' Quarrelsome dogs get dirty 
 coats. ' " 
 
 Edward now proceeded to Dick's lodgings, and found 
 him engaged in reading a note from Tom Durfy, dated 
 from the ''Bower of Repose," and requesting Dick's aid in 
 his present difficulty. 
 
 " Here's a pretty kettle of fish," said Dick. " Tom 
 Durfy, who is engaged to dine with me to-day, to take 
 leave of his bachelor life, as he is going to be married to- 
 morrow, is arrested, and now in quod, and wants me to 
 bail him." 
 
 " The shortest way is to pay the money at once," said 
 Edward; " is it much?" 
 
 "That I don't know; but I have not a great deal about 
 me, and what I have I want for my journey to London 
 and my expenses there — not but what I'd help Tom if 1 
 could." 
 
 " He must not be allowed to remain there, however we 
 manage to get him out," said Edw'ard; " perhaps I can 
 help you in the affair." 
 
 " You're always a good fellow, Ned," said Dick, shaking 
 his hand warmly. 
 
 Edward escaped from hearing any praise of himself by 
 proposing that they shoidd rej^air at once to the sponging- 
 house, and see how matters stood. Dick lamented he 
 should be called away at such a moment, for he was just 
 going to get his wine ready for the party — particularly 
 some champagne, which he was desirous of seeing well iced; 
 but as he could not wait to do it himself, he called Andy, 
 to give him directions about it, and set ott' with Edward to 
 the relief of Tom Durfv. 
 
 Andy was once more in service in the Egan family; for 
 the Squire, on finding him still more closely linked by his 
 marriage with the desperate j^arty whose ijifiuence o\^x
 
 434 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 Andy was to be dreaded, took advantage of Andy's disgust 
 against the woman who had entrapped him, and offered to 
 take him off to London instead of enlisting; and as Andy 
 believed he would be there sufficiently out of the way of the 
 false Bridget, he came off at once to Dublin with Dick, 
 who was the pioneer of the party to Londou. 
 
 Dick gave Andy the necessary directions for icing the 
 champagne, which he set apart and pointed out most par- 
 ticularly to our hero, lest he should make a mistake and 
 perchance ice the port instead. 
 
 After Edward and Dick had gone, Andy commenced 
 operations according to orders. He brought a large tub 
 upstairs containing rough ice, which excited Andy's wonder, 
 for he never had known till now that ice was preserved for 
 and applied to such a use, for an ice-house did not happen 
 to be attached to any establishment in which he had 
 served. 
 
 " Well, this is the queerist thing I ever heerd of," said 
 Andy. ''Musha! what outlandish inventions the quality 
 has among them ! They're not contint with wine, but they 
 must have ice along with it— and in a tub, too! — just like 
 pigs! — throth it's a dirty tlirick, I think. Well, here 
 goes!" said he; and Andy opened a bottle of chamj^agne, 
 and poured it into the tub with the ice. "How it fizzes!" 
 said Andy. " Faix, it's almost as lively as the soda-wather 
 that bothered me long ago. Well, I know more about 
 things now; sure its wonderful how a man imjjroves witk 
 practice!" — and another bottle of champagne was emptied 
 into the tub as he spoke. Thus with several other com- 
 placent comments upon his own proficiency, Andy poured 
 half a dozen of champagne into the tub of ice, and re- 
 marked when he had finished his work, that he thought it 
 would be '• mighty cowld on their stomachs." 
 
 Dick and Edward all this time were on their way to the 
 relief of Tom Durfy, who, though he had cooled down 
 from the boiling-pitch to which the misadventure of the 
 morning had raised him, was still simmering , with his 
 elbows planted on the rickety table in Mr. Goggins' 
 " bower," and his chin resting on his clinched hands. It 
 was the very state of mind in which Tom was mos^ 
 dangerous,
 
 HAls^DT ANDY. 435 
 
 At tTiG other side of the tabic sat James Reddy, intently 
 employed in writing: his pursed mouth and knitted brows 
 bespoke a laboring'state of thought, and the rarious cross- 
 ings, interlinings, and blottings gave additional evidence 
 of the same, while now and then a rush at a line which 
 was knocked oif in a hurry, with slashing dashes of the 
 pen, and fierce after-crossings of f's, and determined dot- 
 tings of i's, declared some thought suddenly seized, and 
 executed with bitter triumph. 
 
 "You seem happj/ in yourself m what you are writing, '* 
 said Tom. " What is it? another epithalamium?'' 
 
 " It is a caustic article against the successful men of the 
 day,'^ said Reddy; " they have no merit, sir — none. -'TIS 
 nothing but luck has placed them where they are, and they 
 ought to be exposed. " He then threw down his pen as he 
 spoke, and, after a silence of some minutes, suddenly put 
 this question to Tom : 
 
 " What do you think of the world?'* 
 
 "Faith I think it so pleasant a place," said Tom, " that 
 I'm confoundedly vexed at being kept out of it by being 
 locked up here; and that cursed bailiff is so provokingly 
 free-and-easy — coming in here every ten minutes, and mak- 
 ing himself at home. " 
 
 '' Why, as for that matter, it is his home, you must re- 
 member. " 
 
 " But while a gentleman is here for a period, "said Tom, 
 " this room ought to be considered his. and that fellow has 
 no business here — and then his bows and scrapes, and talk- 
 ing about the feelings of a gentleman, and all that — 'tis 
 enough to make a dog beat his father. Curse liim! I'd like 
 to choke him." 
 
 " Oh! that's merely his manner," said James. 
 
 "Want of manners, you mean," said Tom. "Hang 
 me, if he comes up to me with his rascally familiarity 
 again, but I'll kick him dow^n-stairs." 
 " " My dear fellow, you are excited," said Eeddy; " don't 
 let these sublunary trifles ruffle your temper — you see how 
 I bear it; and to recall you to yourself, I will remind you 
 of the question we started from, ' What do you think of the 
 world?' There's a general question — a broad question, upon 
 which one may talk with temper and soar above the petty 
 grievances of life in the grand consideration of so ample a 
 subject. You see me here, a prisoner like yourself, but 1 can
 
 436 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 talk of the world. Come, be a calm philosopher, like mel 
 Answer, what do you think of the world?" 
 
 " Tve told you already," said Tom; "it's a capital 
 place, only for the bailiffs. " 
 
 " I can't agree with you," said James, " I think it oiie 
 vast pool of stagnant wretchedness, where the hialaria ol 
 injustice holds her scales suspended, to poison rising talent 
 by giving an undue weight to existing prejudices." 
 
 To this lucid and good-tempered piece of philosophy, 
 Tom could only answer, " You know 1 am no poet, and I 
 can not argue with you; but, 'pon my soul, 1 have known, 
 and do know, some uncommon good fellows in the world." 
 
 "' You're wrong, you're wrong, my unsuspecting friend, 
 ^is a bad world, and no place for susceptible minds. 
 Jealousy pursues talent like its shadow — superiority alone 
 wins for you the hatred of inferior men. For instance, 
 why am /here? The editor of my paper will not allow 
 mi/ articles always to appear; prevents their insertion, lest 
 the effect they would make would cause inquiry, and tend 
 to mi/ distinction; and the consequence is, that the papei J 
 came to uphold in Dublin is deprived of tny articles, and I 
 don't get paid ; while I see inferio7' men, without asking 
 for it, loaded with favor; they are abroad in affluence, and 
 1 in cajjtivity and poverty. But one comfort is, even in 
 disgrace I can write, and they shall get a slashing." 
 
 Thus spoke the calm philosopher, who gave Tom a 
 lecture on patience. 
 
 Tom was no great conjuror; but at that moment, like 
 Audrey, "he thanked the gods he was not poetical." If 
 there be any one thing more than another to make an 
 " every-day man " content with his average lot it is the 
 exhibition of ambitious inferiority, striving for distinction 
 it can never attain; just given sufficient jjerception to de- 
 sire the glory of success, without power to measure the 
 strength that can achieve it; like some poor fly, which beats 
 its head against a pane of glass, seeing the sunshine beyond, 
 but incapable of perceiving the subtle medium which in- 
 tervenes — too delicate for its limited sense to comprehend, 
 but too strong for its limited power to pass. 
 
 But though Tom felt satisfaction at that moment, he 
 lad too good feeling to wound the self-love of the vain 
 'Teature before him; so, instead of speaking what he 
 bought, viz., "What business have you to attempt liter-
 
 HANDY ANDY. 437 
 
 ature, you conceited fool?" he tried to wean him civilly 
 from his folly by saying. ''Then come hack to the coun- 
 try, James; if you find jealous rivals here, you know you 
 were always admired there." 
 
 "No, sir/' said James; "even there my merit was un- 
 acknowledged, " 
 
 "No! no!'' said Tom. 
 
 " Well, underrated, at least. Even there, that Edward 
 O'Connor, someliow or other, I never could tell why — I 
 never saw his great talents — but somehow or other, people 
 got it into their heads that he was clever." 
 
 "I tell you what it is," said Tom, earnestly, "Ned-of- 
 the-Hill has got into a better place than people's heads — 
 he has got into their hearts !" 
 
 "There it is!" exclaimed James, indignantly. "You 
 have caught up the cuckoo-cry — the heart! Why, sir, what 
 merit is there in Avriting about feelings which any common 
 laborer can comprehend? There's no poetry in that ; true 
 poetry lies in a higher si^here, where you have difficulty in 
 following the flight of the poet, and possibly may not be 
 fortunate enough to understand him — that's poetry, sir." 
 
 " I told you I am no poet," said Tom; "but all I know 
 is, I have felt ray heart warm to some of Edward's songs, 
 and, by jingo, I have seen the women's eyes glisten, and 
 their cheeks flush or grow pale, as they have heard them — 
 and that's poetry enough for me." 
 
 " Well, let Mister O'Connor enjoy his popularity, sir, if 
 popularity it may be called, in a small country circle — let 
 him enjoy it — I don't envy him his, though I think he was 
 rather jealous about mine. " 
 
 " Ned jealous!" exclaimed Tom, in surprise. 
 
 ** Yes, jealous; I never heard him say a kind word of 
 any verses I ever wrote in my life ; and I am certain he has 
 most unkind feelings toward me." 
 
 " I tell you what it is," said Tom, " getting up" a bit; 
 " I told you I don't understand poetry, but I do understand 
 what's an infinitely better thing, and that's fine, generous, 
 manly feeling; and if there's a human being in the world 
 incapable of wronging another in his mind or heart, or 
 readier to help his fellow-man, it is tdward O'Connor; so 
 say no more, James, if you please. " 
 
 Tom had scarcely uttered the last word, when the ke^ 
 was turned in the door.
 
 i38 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 "Here's that infernal bailiff again I'" said Tom, whose 
 irritability, increased by Eeddy^'s paltry egotism and in- 
 justice, was at its boiling-pitch once more. He planted 
 himself lirmly in his chair, and putting on liis fiercest 
 frown, was tleterniined to confront Mister Goggins with au 
 aspect that should astonish him. 
 
 The door ojjoned, and Mister Goggins made his appear- 
 ance, presenting to the gentlemen in the room the hinder 
 . portion of his person, which made several indications of 
 4 courtesy performed by the other half of his body, while he 
 uttered the words, "Don't be astonished, gentlemen; 
 you'll be used to it by and by. " And with these words he 
 kept backing toward Tom, making these nether demon- 
 strations of civility, till Tom coidd plainly see the seams in 
 the back of Mr. Goggins' pantaloons. 
 
 Tom thought this Avas some new touch of the " free-and- 
 easy " on Mister Goggins' part, and, losing all command 
 of himself, he jumped from his chair, and with a vigorous 
 kick gave Mister Goggins such a lively impression of his 
 desire that he should leave the room, that Mister Goggins 
 went head foremost down the stairs, pitching his whole 
 weigiit upon Dick Dawson and Edward O'Connor, who 
 were ascending the dark stairs, and to whom all his bows 
 had been addressed. Overwhelmed with astonishment and 
 twelve stone of bailiff, they were thrown back into the hall, 
 and an immense uproar in the passage ensued. 
 
 Edward and Dick were near coming in for some hard 
 usage from Goggins, conceiving it might be a preconcerted 
 attempt on the part of his pi'isoners and their newly ar- 
 rived friends to achieve a rescue; and while he was rolling 
 about on the ground, he roared to his e\il-visaged janitor 
 to look to the door first, and keep him from being " mur- 
 thered " after. 
 
 Fortunately no evil consequences ensued, until matters 
 could be explained in the hall, and Edward and Dick were 
 introduced to the upper room, from which Goggins had 
 been so suddenly ejected. 
 
 There the bailiff demanded in a very angry tone the 
 cause of Tom's conduct; and when it was found to be Ofily 
 a mutual misunderstanding — that Goggins Avouldn't take a 
 liberty with a gentleman " in difficulties " for the world, 
 and that Tom wouldn't hurt a fly, only " under a mistake " 
 — matters were cleared up to the satisfaction of all parties,
 
 HA^'-DY AITDT. 43S 
 
 and the real business of the meeting commenced: — that was 
 to pay Tomb's debt out of hand; and when the bailiff saw 
 all demands, fees included, cleared off, the clouds from liis 
 brow cleared off also, he was the most amiable of sheriff's 
 oflBcers, and all his sentimentality returned. 
 
 Edward did not seem quite to sympathixe -with, his amia- 
 bility, so Goggins returned to the charge, while Tom and 
 Dick were exchanging a few words with James Eeddy. 
 
 "You see, sir, '^ said Goggins, "in the first place, it is 
 quite beautiful to see the" "mind in adversity bearing up 
 against the little antediluvian afflictions that will happen 
 occasionally, and then how fine it is to remark the spark 
 of generosity that kindles in the noble heart and rushes to 
 the assistance of the destitute! I do assure you, sir, it is a 
 most beautiful sight to see the gintlemen in defficulties 
 waitin' here for their friends to come to their relief, like 
 the last scene in Blue Beard, where Sister Ann waves her 
 handkerchief from the tower — the tyrant is slain — and 
 virtue rewarded I 
 
 "Ah, sir!" said he to Edward O'Connor, whose look of 
 disgust at the wretched den caught the bailiff's attention, 
 " don't entertain an antifassy from first imprissions, which 
 is often desaivin'. I do pledge you my honor, sir, there is 
 no place in the 'varsal world where human nature is visi- 
 ble in more attractive colors than in this humble retrait." 
 
 Edward could not conceal a smile at the fellow's absurd- 
 ity, though his sense of the ridiculous could not overcome 
 the disgust with which the place inspired him. He gave 
 an admonitory touch to the elbow of Dick Dawson, who, 
 with his friend Tom Durfy, followed Edward from the 
 room, the bailiff bringing up the rear, and relocking the 
 door on the unfortunate James Eeddy, who was left " alone 
 in his glory," to finish his slashing article against the suc- 
 cessful men of the day. 
 
 ^Nothing more than words of recognition had passed be- 
 tween Eeddy and Edward. In the first place, Edward's 
 appearance at the very moment the other was indulging in 
 ilhberal observations upon him rendered the ill-tempered 
 poetaster dumb: aaid Edward attributed this distance of 
 manner to a feeling of shyness which Eeddy might enter- 
 tain at being seen in such a place, and therefore had too 
 much good breeding to thrust his civility on a man who 
 seemed to shrink from it; but when he left the house he
 
 44:0 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 expressed his regret to his companions at the poor fellow's 
 uufortuuate situation. 
 
 It touched Tom Durfy's heart to hear these expressions 
 of compassion coming from tlie lips of the man he had 
 heard maligned a few minutes before by the very person 
 commiserated, and it raised his opinion higher of Edward, 
 whose hand he now shook with warm expressions of thank- 
 fulness on his oivn account, for the prompt service ren- 
 dered to him. Edward made as light of his own kindness 
 as he could, and begged Tom to think nothing of such a 
 trifle. 
 
 " One word I will say to you, Durfy, and I^m sure you'll 
 pardon me for it.'' 
 
 " Could you say a thing to offend me?" was the answer. 
 
 '*■ You are to be married soon, I understand?" 
 
 '' To-morrow," said Tom. 
 
 ''Well, my dear Durfy, if you owe anymore money, 
 take a real friend's advice, and tell your pretty good-heart- 
 ed widow the whole amoimt of your debts before you marry 
 her." 
 
 ''My dear O'Connor," said Tom, "the money you've 
 lent me now is all I owe in the world; 'twas a tailor's bill, 
 and I quite forgot it. You know, no one ever thinks of a 
 tailor's bill. Debts, indeed!" added Tom, with surprise; 
 " my dear fellow, I never could be much in debt, for the 
 devil a one would trust me. " 
 
 "An excellent reason for your unincumbered state," 
 said Edward, " and I hope you pardon me." 
 
 "Pardon!" exclaimed Tom, "I esteem you for your 
 kind and manly frankness." 
 
 In the course of their progress toward Dick's lodgings, 
 Edward reverted to James Reddy's wretched condition, and 
 found it was but some petty debt for which he was arrest- 
 ed. He lamented, in common with Dick and Tom, the 
 infatuation which made him desert a duty he could profita- 
 bly perform by assisting his father in his farming concerns, 
 to pursue a literary path, which could never be any other to 
 him than one of thorns. 
 
 As Edward had engaged to meet Gusty in an hour, he 
 parted from his companions and pursued his course alone. 
 But, mstead of proceeding immediately homeward, he re- 
 traced his steps to the den of the bailiff and gave a quiet 
 tap at the door. Mister Goggius himself answered to the
 
 HANDY ANDY. 441 
 
 knock, and began a loud and florid "w^elcome to Edward, 
 who stopped his career of eloquence by laying a finger on 
 his lip in token of silence. A few words sufficed to explain 
 the motive of his visit. He wished to ascertain the sum 
 for wliicli the gentleman upstairs was detained. The 
 baihfE informed him; and the money necessary to procure 
 the captive's hberty was placed in his hand. 
 
 The bailifE cast one of his melodramatic glances at Ed- 
 ward, and said, ^''Didn't I tell you, sir, this was the place 
 for calling out the noblest feelings of human nature?" 
 
 ''Can you oblige me with writing materials?" said Ed- 
 ward. 
 
 " I can, sir," said Goggins, proudly; " and with other 
 materials,*^ too, if you like — and ''pou my honor, I'll be 
 proud to drink your health, for you're a raal gintleman. " 
 
 Edward, in the civilest manner, declined the offer, and 
 wrote, or, rather, tried to write, the following note, with a 
 pen like a skewer, ink something thicker than mud, and on 
 whity brown paper: 
 
 " Dear Sir, — I hope you will pardon the liberty I have 
 taken in your temijorary want of money. You can repay 
 me at your convenience. Yours, E. O'C. " 
 
 Edward left the den, and so did James Eeddy soon after 
 — a better man. Though Aveak, his heart w'as not shut to 
 the humanities of life — and Edward's kindness, in opening 
 his eyes to the wrong he had done one man, induced in his 
 heart a kinder feeling toward all. He tore up his slashing 
 article against successful men. Woidd that every disap- 
 pointed man would do the same. 
 
 The bailiff was right; even so low a den as his becomes 
 ennobled by the presence of active benevolence and preju- 
 dice reclaimed. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVn. 
 
 Edward, on returning to his hotel, found Gusty there 
 before him, in great delight at having seen a " splendid '' 
 horse, as he said, which had been brought for Edward's in- 
 
 * The name given in Ireland to tlie necessary materials tor the 
 compounding of -whisky-punch.
 
 442 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 spection, he having written a note on his arrival in town to 
 a dealer^, stating his want of a tirst-rate hunter. 
 
 ''He's in the stable now/' said Gusty; "for I desired 
 the man to wait, knowing you would be here soon. " 
 
 "I cannot see him now. Gusty,'' said Edward; ''will 
 ▼ou have the kindness to tell the groom I can look at the 
 jborse in his own stables when I wish to purchase!-"' 
 
 Gusty departed with the message, somewhat in wonder, 
 for Edward loved a fine horse. But the truth was, Ed- 
 ward's disposable money, which he had intended for the 
 purchase of a hunter, had a serious inroad made upon it by 
 the debts he had discharged for other men, and he was 
 forced to forego the pleasure he had proposed to himself iji 
 the next hunting season; and he did not like to consume 
 any one's time or raise false expectations, by atfecting to 
 look at disposable pi'operty with the eye of a purchaser when 
 he knew it was beyond his reach; and the flimsy common" 
 places of "I'll think of it," or "If I don't see something 
 better," or any other of the twenty hackneyed excuses 
 which idle people make, after consuming busy men's time, 
 Edward held to be unworthy. He could ride a hack, and 
 deny himself hunting for a whole season, but he would not 
 unnecessarily consume the useful time of any man for ten 
 minutes. 
 
 This may be sneered at by the idle and thoughtless; 
 nevertheless, it is a part of the minor morality which is 
 ever present m the conduct of a true gentleman. 
 
 Edward had promised to join Dick's dinner-party on an 
 impromptu invitation, and the clock striking the ap- 
 pointed hour warned Edward it was time to be off; so, 
 jumping up on a jaunting-car, he rattled off to Dick 'a 
 lodgings, where a jolly party was assembled, ripe for fun. 
 
 Among the guests Avas a rather remarkable man, a 
 Colonel Crammer, who had seen a monstrous deal of serv- 
 ice — one of Tom Durfy's friends Avhom he had asked leave 
 to bring with him to dinner. Of course, Dick's card and a 
 note of invitation for the gallant colonel were immediately 
 dispatched; and he had but just arrived before Edward, 
 who found a bustling sensation in the room as the colonel 
 was presented to those already assembled, and Tom Durfy 
 giving whispers, aside, to each person touching his friend : 
 such as — " very remarkable man " — " Seen great service "
 
 HANDT ANDY. 443 
 
 — " A little odd or so '^ — " A fund of most extraordinary 
 anecdote/^ etc., etc. 
 
 Now this Colonel Crammer was no other than Tom 
 Loftus, whose acquaintance Dick wished to make, and 
 who had been invited to the dinner after a preliminary 
 visit; but Tom sent an excuse in his own name, and 
 preferred being present under a fictitious one — this being 
 one of the odd ways in which his humor broke out, de- 
 sirous of giving peojjle a *' touch of his quality " before 
 they knew him. He was in the habit of assuming vari- 
 ous characters; a methodist missionary — the patentee of 
 some unheard-of invention— the director of some new 
 joint stock-company — in short, anything which would 
 give him an opjjortunity of telling tremendous bouncers 
 was equally good for Tom. His reason for assuming a 
 military guise on this occasion was to bother Moriarty, 
 whom he knew he should meet, and held a special reason 
 for tormenting; and he knew he could achieve this by 
 throwing all the stories Moriarty was fond of telling about 
 his own service into the shade, by extravagant inventions 
 of ^^hair-breadth ^scapes" and feats by "flood and field."' 
 Indeed, the dinner would not be worth mentioning but for 
 the extraordinary capers Tom cut on the occasion, and the 
 unheard-of lies he squandered. 
 
 Dinner was announced by Andy, and with good appetite 
 soup and fish were soon dispatched; sherry followed as a 
 matter of necessity. The second course appeared, and wui 
 not long under discussion when Dick called for the 
 "champagne." 
 
 Andy began to drag the tub toward the table, and Dick, 
 impatient of delay, again called " champagne."" 
 
 *' I'm bringin' it to you, sir," said Andy, tugging at the 
 tub. 
 
 " Hand it round the table," said Dick. 
 
 Andy tried to lift the tub, "to hand it round the table;" 
 but, finding he could not manage it, he whispered to Dick, 
 *' I can't get it up, sir. " 
 
 Dick, fancying that Andy meant he had got a flask not 
 in a sufficient state of effervescence to expel its own cork, 
 whispered in return, " Draw it, then." 
 
 "I was dhrawin' it to you, sir, when you stopped me." 
 
 " Well, make haste with it," said Dick.
 
 444 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 (( 
 
 Mister Dawson, ni trouble you for a small slice of 
 the turkey/' said the colonel. 
 
 ** With pleasure, colonel; but first do me the honor to 
 take champagne. Andy — chami)agne!" 
 
 " Here it is, sir!" said Andy, who had drawn the tub 
 close to Dick's chair. 
 
 *^ Where's the wine, sir?" said Dick, looking first at the 
 tub and then at Andy. 
 
 *' There, sir," said Andy, j^oijiting down to the ice. " I 
 put the wine into it, as you towld me. " 
 
 Dick looked again at the tub, and said, ''There is not a 
 smgle bottle there — what do you mean, you stupid rascal?" 
 
 " To be sure, there's no bottle there, sir. The bottles is 
 all on the sideboard, but every dlirop o' the wine is in the 
 ice, as you towld me, sir; if you put your hand down into 
 it, you'll feel it, sir." 
 
 The conversation between master and man growing 
 louder as it proceeded, attracted the attention of the whole 
 company, and those near the head of the table became ac- 
 quainted as soon as Dick with the mistake Andy had made, 
 and could not resist laughter; and as the cause of their 
 merriment was told from man to man, and passed round 
 the board, a roar of laughter ujjrose, not a little increased 
 by Dick's look of vexation, which at length was forced to 
 yield to the infectious merriment around him, and he 
 laughed with the rest, and making a joke of the disappoint- 
 ment, which is the very best way of passing one off, he 
 said that he had the honor of originating at his table a 
 magnificent scale of hospitality; for though he had heard 
 of company being entertained with a whole hogshead of 
 claret, he was not aware of champagne being ever served 
 in a tub before. The company were too determined to be 
 merry to have their pleasantry put out of tune by sc 
 trifling a mishap, and it was generally voted that the joke 
 was worth twice as much as the wine. Nevertheless, Dick 
 could not help casting a reproachful look now and then at 
 Andy, who had to nm the gantlet of many a joke cut at 
 his expense, while he waited upon the wags at dinner, and 
 caught a lowly muttered anathema whenever he passed 
 near Dick's chair. In short, master and man were both 
 glad when the cloth was drawn, and the party could be left 
 to themselves. 
 Then, as a matter of course, Dick called on the gentle-
 
 HANDY ANDY. 445 
 
 men to charge their glasses and fill high to a toast he lia<I 
 to propose — they would anticipate to whom he refei-red — 
 a gentleman who was going to change his state of freed<jm 
 for one of a happier bondage, etc. , etc. Dick dashed ofl 
 his speech with several mirth-moving allusions to the 
 change that was coming over his friend Tom, and having 
 festooned his composition with the proper quantity of 
 " rosy wreaths/' etc., etc., etc., naturally belonging to such 
 speeches, he wound up with some hearty words — free from 
 hadinage, and meaning all they conveyed, and finished with 
 the rhyming benediction of a '•' long life and a good wife " 
 to him. 
 
 Tom having returned thanks in the same laughing style 
 that Dick proposed his health, and bade farewell to the 
 lighter follies of bachelorship for the more serious ones of 
 wedlock, the road was now ojDcn to any one who was 
 vocally inclined. Dick asked one or two^ Avho said they 
 were not within a bottle of their singing point yet. but 
 Tom Durfy was sure his friend the colonel would favor them. 
 
 " With pleasure," said the colonel; " and I'll sing some- 
 thing appropriate to the blissful situation of philandering 
 in which you have been indulging of late, my friend. I 
 wish 1 could give you any idea of the song as I heard it 
 warbled by the voice of an Indian princess, who was at- 
 tached to me once, and for whom 1 ran enormous risks — 
 but no matter — that's past and g<jne, but the soft tones of 
 Zulima's voice will ever haunt my heart I The song is a 
 favorite where I heard it — on the borders of Cashmere, and 
 is supposed to be sung by a fond woman in the valley of 
 the nightingales — 'tis so in the original, but as we have no 
 nightingales in Ireland, 1 have substituted the dove in the 
 little translation I have made, which, if you will allow me, 
 I'll attempt." 
 
 Loud cries of " Hear, hear!" and tapping of applauding 
 hands on the table followed, while the colonel gave a few 
 preliminary hems; and after some little pilot tones from 
 his throat, to show the way, his voice ascended in all the 
 
 glory of song: 
 
 THE DOVE SONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 " Coo! Coo! Coo! Coo! 
 
 Thus did I hear tlie tnrtle dove, 
 Coo! Coo! Coo!
 
 446 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 Murmuring forth her love; 
 And as she flew from tree to tree. 
 How melting seemed the notes to mSr^ 
 
 Coo! Coo! Coo! 
 So like the voice of lovers, 
 
 'Twas passing sweet to hear 
 The birds witliln the covers, 
 
 In the spring-time of the year. 
 
 II. 
 
 ** Coo! Coo! Coo! Coo! 
 
 Thus the song's returned again— 
 Coo! Coo! Coo! 
 
 Through the shady glen ; 
 But there I wandered lone and sad. 
 While every bird around was glad. 
 
 Coo! Coo! Coo! 
 Thus so fondly murmured they, 
 Cuo! Coo! do! 
 While my love was away. 
 And yet the song to lovers. 
 
 Though sad, is sweet to hear. 
 From birds within the covers, 
 In the spring-time of the year.** 
 
 The coloneFs song, given with Tom Loftus' good voice, 
 was received with great applause, and the fellows all voted 
 it catching, and began " cooing " round the table like a 
 parcel of pigeons. 
 
 ''^ A translation from an eastern poet, you say?" 
 
 '' Yes,'' said Tom. 
 
 *' 'Tis not very Eastern in its character,'' said Moriarty. 
 
 " I mean ^free translation, of course," added the mock 
 colonel. 
 
 ** Would you favor us with the song again, in the origi- 
 nal?" added Moriarty. 
 
 ^^om Loftus did not know one syllable of any other lan- 
 guage than his own, and it would not have been convenient 
 to talk gibberish to Moriarty, who had a smattering of 
 some of the Eastern tongues; so he declined giving his 
 Cashmerian song in its native purity, because, as he said, 
 he never could manage to speaik their dialect, though he 
 understood it reasonably well. 
 
 " But there's a gentleman, I am sure, will sing some 
 other song- -and a better one, I have no doubt," said Tom, 
 with a very humble prostration of lus head on the table,
 
 BANDY ANDT. 447 
 
 and anxious by a fresh song to get out of the dilemma in 
 which Moriarty's question was near placing him. 
 
 " Not a better, colonel," said the gentleman who was 
 addressed; "but I can not refuse your call, and I will do 
 my best. Hand me the port wine, pray; I always take a 
 glass of port before I sing — I think 'tis good for the throat 
 — what do you say, colonel?" 
 
 " When I want to sing particularly well," said Tom, " I 
 drink canary." 
 
 The gentleman smiled at the whimsical answer, tossed 
 o£E his glass of port, and began: 
 
 "LADY MINE. 
 
 "Lady mine! lady mine! 
 Take the rosy wreath I twine, 
 All its sweets are less than thine, 
 
 Lady, lady mine! 
 The blush tliat on thy cheek is found 
 Bloometh fresh the tchole year round; 
 Thy sweet breath as sweet gives sound. 
 Lady, lady minel 
 
 n. 
 
 " Lady mine! lady mine! 
 llow I love the graceful vine. 
 Whose tendrils mock thy ringlets' twine. 
 
 Lady, lady mine ! 
 How I love that generous tree, 
 Whose ripe clusters promise rtie 
 Bumpers bright — to pledge to thee. 
 Lady, lady minel 
 
 in. 
 
 "Lady mine! lady mine! 
 Like the stars that nightly shine, 
 Thy sweet eyes shed light divine. 
 
 Lady, lady mine! 
 And as sages wise, of old. 
 From the stars could fate unfold, 
 Thy bright eyes my fortune told. 
 
 Lady, lady mine! 
 
 The song was just in the style to catch gentlemen after 
 dinner — the second verse particularly, and many a glass 
 was emptied of a '^bumper bright," and pledged to the
 
 448 HANDY ANDT. 
 
 E articular ** thee," which each individual had selected for 
 is devotion. Edward, at that moment, certainly thought 
 of Fanny Dawson. 
 
 Let teetotalers say what they please, there is a genial 
 influence inspired by wine and song — not in excess, but in 
 that wholesome degree which stirs the blood and warms 
 the fancy; and as one raises the glass to the lip, over which 
 some sweet name is just breathed from the dej^th of the 
 heart, what libation so fit to pour to absent friends as wine? 
 What is wine? It is the gra2)e present in another form; 
 its essence is there, though the fruit which produced it 
 grew thousands of miles away, and perished years ago. 80 
 the object of many a tender thought may be spiritually 
 present, in defiance of space — and fond recollections cher- 
 ished in defiance of time. 
 
 As the party became more convivial, the mirth began to 
 assume a broader form. Tom Durfy drew out Moriarty 
 on the subject of his services, that the mock colonel 
 might throw every new achievement into the shade, and 
 this he did in the most barefaced manner, but mixing so 
 much of probability with his audacious fiction, that those 
 who were not up to the joke only supi^osed him to be a 
 very great romancer ; while those friends who were in 
 Loftus' confidence exhibited a most capacious stomach for 
 the marvelous, and backed up his lies with a ready cre- 
 dence. If Moriarty told some fearful incident of a tiger 
 hunt, the colonel capped it with something more wonder- 
 ful, of slaughtering lions in a wholesale way, like rabbits. 
 When Moriarty expatiated on the intensity of tropical heat, 
 the colonel would upset him with something more ap- 
 palling. 
 
 "Now, sir," said Loftus, "let me ask you what is the 
 greatest amount of heat you have ever experienced — I say 
 experienced, not heard of — for that goes for nothing. I 
 always speak from experience. " 
 
 "Well, sir," said Moriarty, "I have known it to be so 
 hot in India, that I have had a hole dug in the ground 
 mider my tent, and sat in it, and put a table standing over 
 the hole, to try and guard me from the intolerable fervor 
 of the eastern sun, and even then I was hot. What do you 
 Bay to that, colonel?" asked Moriarty, triumphantly. 
 
 "Have you ever been iu the AVest Indies?" inquired 
 Loftus.
 
 HANDY AN^DT. 449 
 
 "Kever/'said Moriarty, who, once entrapped into this 
 admission, was directly at the colonel's mercy — and the 
 colonel launched out fearlessly. 
 
 '' Then, my good sir, you know nothmg of heat. I have 
 seen in the West Indies an umbrella burned over a man's 
 head.^' 
 
 "Wonderful!" cried Loftus' backers. 
 
 " 'Tis strange, sir," said Moriarty, " that we have never 
 seen that mentioned by any writer." 
 
 "■ Easily accounted for, sir," said Loftus. " ^Tis so com- 
 mon a circumstance, that it ceases to be worthy of observa- 
 tion. An author writing of this country might as well 
 remark that the apple-women are to be seen sitting at the 
 corners of the streets. That's nothing, sir; but there are 
 two things of which I have personal knowledge, rather re- 
 markable. One day of intense heat (even for that climate) 
 I was on a visit at the plantation of a friend of mine, and 
 it was so out-o'-the way scorching, that our lips were like 
 cinders, and we wei'e obliged to have black slaves pouring 
 sangaree down our throats by gallons — I don't hesitate to 
 say gallons — and we thought we could not have survived 
 through the day; but what could we think of oiir suffer- 
 ings, when we heard that several negroes, who had gone to 
 sleep under the shade of some cocoa-nut trees, had been 
 scalded to death?" 
 
 " Scalded?" said his friends; "burned, you mean." 
 
 "No, scalded; and how do you think? The intensity of 
 the heat had cracked the cocoa-nuts; and the boiling milk 
 inside dropped down and produced the fatal result. The 
 same day a remarkable accident occurred at the battery; 
 the French were hovering round the island at the time, and 
 the governor, being a timid man, ordered the guns to be 
 always kept loaded. " 
 
 " I never heard of such a thing in a battery in my life, 
 sir," said Moriarty. 
 
 " Nor I either," said Loftus, " till then!" 
 
 " W^hat was the governor's name, sir?" inquired Moriarty, 
 pursuing his train of doubt. 
 
 " You must excuse me captain, from naming him," said 
 Loftus, with readiness, "after incautiously saying he was 
 iimid."' 
 
 "Hear, hear!" said all the friends. 
 
 "But to pursue my story, su". — the guns were loaded^
 
 450 HANDY AKDT. 
 
 and with the intensity of the heat went off, one after an- 
 other, and quite riddled one of his Majesty's frigates that 
 was lying in the harbor. "" 
 
 *• That's one of the most difficult riddles to comprehend 
 I ever heard," said Moriarty. 
 
 '* The frigate answered the riddle with her guns, sir, I 
 promise you/' 
 
 ''What!" exclaimed Moriarty, "fire on the fort of her 
 own king?" 
 
 " There is an honest principle exists among sailors, sir, 
 to return fire under all circumstances, wherever it comes 
 from, friend or foe. Fire, of which they know the value 
 80 well, they won't take from anybody." 
 
 "And what was the consequence?" said Moriarty. 
 
 " Sir, it was the most harmless broadside ever delivered 
 from the ports of a British frigate; not a single house or 
 human being was injured — the day was so hot that every 
 sentinel had sunk on the ground in utter exhaustion — the 
 whole population were asleep; the only loss of life which 
 occurred was that of a blue macaw, which belonged to the 
 commandant's daugiiter. " 
 
 "Where was the macaw, may I beg to know?" said 
 Moriarty, cross-questioning the colonel in the spirit of a 
 counsel for the defense on a capital indictment. 
 
 " In the drawing-room window, sir." 
 
 •■' Then surely the ball must have done some damage in 
 the house?" 
 
 " Not the least, sir," said Loftus, sipping his wine. 
 
 " Surely, colonel !" returned Moriarty, warming, "the 
 ball could not have killed the macaw without injuring the 
 house?" 
 
 " My dear sir," said Tom, '" I did not say the hall killed 
 the macaw, I said the macaw was killed; but iliat was in 
 consequence of a splinter from an epaulenieoit ot the south- 
 east angle of the fort which the shot struck and glanced 
 off harmlessly — except for the casualty of the macaw. " 
 
 Moriarty returned a kind of grunt, which implied that, 
 though he could not further question, he did not helieve. 
 Under such circumstances, taking snuff is a great relief 
 to a man; and, as it happened, Moriarty, in taking snuff, 
 could gratify his nose and his vanity at the same time, for 
 he sported a silver-gilt snuti'-box which was presented to
 
 HANDY ANDY. 451 
 
 him in some extraordinary way, and bore a grand inscrip- 
 tion. 
 
 On this ''piece of plate" being prodnced, of course it 
 went round the table, and Moriarty could scarcely conceal 
 the satisfaction he felt as each person read the engraven 
 testimonial of his worth. "When it had gone the circuit of 
 the board, Tom Loftus put his hand into his pocket and 
 pulled out the butt-end of a rifle, which is always furnished 
 with a small box, cut out of the solid part of the wood, and 
 covered with a plate of brass acting on a hinge. This box, 
 intended to carry small implements for the use of the rifle- 
 man, to keep his piece in order, was filled with snuff, and 
 Tom said, as he laid it down on the table, ''This is my 
 snuff-box, gentlemen ; not as handsome as my gallant 
 friend's at the opposite side of the table, but extremely 
 interesting to me. It was previous to one of our dashing 
 affairs in Spain that our riflemen were thrown out in front 
 and on the flanks. The rifles were supported by the light 
 companies of the regiments in advance, and it was in the 
 latter duty I was engaged. We had to feel our way through 
 a wood, and had cleared it of the enemy, when as we de- 
 bouched from the wood on the opposite side, we were 
 charged by an overwhelming force of Polish lancers and 
 cuirassiers. Retreat was impossible — resistance almost 
 hopeless. * My lads,* said I, ' we must do something 7iovel 
 here, or we are lost — startle them by fresh practice — the 
 bayonet will no longer avail you — club your muskets, and 
 hit the horses over the noses, and they'll smell danger.' 
 They took my advice; of course we first delivered a. wither- 
 ing volley, and then to it we went in flail-fashion, thrashing 
 away with the butt-ends of our muskets; and sure enough 
 the French were astonished and driven back in amazement. 
 So tremendous, sir, was the hitting on our side, that in 
 many instances the butt-ends of the muskets snapped off 
 like tobacco-pipes, and the field was quite strewn with them 
 after the affair; I picked one of them up as a little memento 
 of the day, and have used it ever since as a snuff-box." 
 
 Every one was amused by the outrageous romancing of 
 the colonel but Moriarty, who looked rather disgusted, be- 
 cause he could not edge in a word of his own at all; he gave 
 up the thing now in despair, for the colonel had it all his 
 own way, like the bull in a china-shop; the more startling 
 the bouncers he told, the more successful were his anec-
 
 453 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 dotes, and he kept pouring them out with the most astound- 
 ing rajiidity; and though all voted him the greatest liar 
 they ever met, none suspected he was not a military man. 
 
 Dick wanted Edward O'Connor, who sat beside him, to 
 sing; but Edward whispered: "For Heaven's sake don't 
 stop the flow of the lava from that mighty eruption of lies! 
 he's a perfect Vesuvius of mendacity. You'll never meet 
 his like again, so make the most of him while you have 
 him. Pray, sir," said Edward to the colonel, "have you 
 ever been in any of the cold climates? I am induced to ask 
 you, from the very wonderful anecdotes you have told of 
 the hot ones." 
 
 *^ Bless you, sir, I know every corner about the north 
 pole." 
 
 " In which of the expeditions, may I ask, were you en- 
 gaged?" inquired Moriarty. 
 
 " In none of them, sir. We knocked up a little amateur 
 party, I and a few curious friends, and certainly we wit- 
 nessed wonders. You talk here of a sharp wind; but the 
 wind is so sharp there that it cut off our beard and whisk- 
 ers. Boreas is a great barber, sir, with his north pole for a 
 sign. Then as for frost! I could tell you such incredible 
 things of its intensity; our butter, for instance, was as hard 
 as a rock; we were obliged to knock it off with a chisel 
 and hammer, like a mason at a piece of granite, and it was 
 necessary to be careful of your eyes at breakfast, the splin- 
 ters used to fly about so; indeed, one of the party did lose 
 the use of his eye from a butter-splinter. But the oddest 
 thing of all was to watch two men talking to each other: 
 you could observe the words, as they came out of their 
 mouths, suddenly frozen and dropping down in little pel- 
 lets of ice at their feet, so that, after a long conversation, 
 you might see a man standing up to his knees in his own 
 eloquence. " 
 
 They all roared with laughter at this last touch of the 
 marvelous, but Loftus preserved his gravity. 
 
 " I don't wonder, gentlemen, at your not receiving that 
 as truth — I told you it was incredible — in short, that is the 
 reason I have resisted all temptations to publish. Murray, 
 I-iongmans, Colburn, Bentley, all the publishers have 
 offered me unlimited terms, but I have always refused — 
 not that I am a rich man, which makes the temptation of 
 the thou»auds I might realize the harder to withstand; 'tis
 
 HANDY ANDY. 453 
 
 not that the gold is not precious to me, but there is some- 
 thing dearer to me than gold — it is my character for verac- 
 ity! — and therefore, as I am convinced the public would 
 not beheve the wonders I have Avitnessed, I confine the 
 recital of my adventures to the social circle. But what 
 profession affords such scope for varied incident as that of 
 the soldier? Change of clime, danger, vicissitude, love, 
 war, privation one day, profusion the next, darkling dan- 
 gers, and sparkling joys! Zounds! there's nothing like tlie 
 life of a soldier! and, by the powers! Til give you a song 
 m its praise/' 
 
 The proposition was received with cheers, and Tom rat- 
 tled away these ringing rhymes — 
 
 THE BOVVLD SOJER BOY. 
 
 I. 
 
 " Oh there's not a trade that's going 
 Worth showing, 
 Or knowing, 
 Like that from gloiy growing. 
 
 For a bowM sojer boy; 
 Where right or left we go, 
 Sure you know. 
 Friend or foe 
 Will have the hand or toe 
 
 From a bowld sojer boy 1 
 There's not a town we march thro'. 
 But the ladies, looking arch thro' 
 The window-panes, will search thro' 
 
 The ranks to find their joy; 
 While up the street. 
 Each girl you meet, 
 With look so sly. 
 Will cry 
 * My eye ! 
 Oh, isn't he a darling, the bowld sojer boy^ 
 
 n. 
 
 *' But when we get the route, 
 How they pout 
 And they shout 
 While to the rightabout 
 
 Goes the bowld sojer boy. 
 Oh, 'tis then that ladies fair 
 In despair 
 Tear their hair, 
 But ' the divil-a-one I care,' 
 
 Says the bowld sojer boy.
 
 454 HANDT AXDT. 
 
 For the world is all before us. 
 Where the landladies adore us, 
 And ne'er refuse to score us, 
 
 But chalk us up with joy; 
 We taste her tap. 
 We tear her cap — 
 ' Oh, that's the chap 
 For me!' 
 8ays she; 
 ' Oh, isn't he a darling, the bowld sojer boy/' 
 
 m. 
 
 *' ' Then come along with me, 
 Gramachree, 
 And you'll see 
 How happy you will be 
 
 With your t)owld sojer boy; 
 Faith! if you're up to fun, 
 With me run; 
 'Twill be done 
 In the snapping of a gun, 
 
 Says the bowld sojer boy; 
 • And 'tis then that, without scandal. 
 Myself will proudly dandle 
 The little farthing candle 
 
 Of our mutual flame, my joy I 
 May his light shine 
 As bright as mine. 
 Till in the line 
 He'll blaze. 
 And raise 
 The glory of his corps, like a bowld sojer boyl' " 
 
 Andy entered the room while the song was in progress, 
 and handed a letter to Dick, which, after the song was over, 
 and he had asked pardon of his guests, he opened. 
 
 ''By Jove! you sing right well, colonel,'^ said one of the 
 party. 
 
 *'I think the gallant colonel's songs nothing in compari- 
 son with his ivonderful stories," said Moriarty. 
 
 "' Gentlemen," said Dick, " wonderful as the colonel's 
 recitals have been, this letter conveys a piece of informa- 
 tion more surprising than anything we have heard this day. 
 That stupid fellow who spoiled our champagne has come 
 in for the inheritance of a large property. " 
 
 " What! — Handy Andy?" ^claimed those who knew his 
 name. 
 
 *' Handy Andy," said Dick, '' is now a man of forttmel"
 
 HANDY ANDY. 455 
 
 CHAPTER XLVin. 
 
 It was a note from Squire Egan which conveyed the 
 news to Dick that caused so much surprise; the details of 
 the case were not even hinted at; the bare fact alone was 
 mentioned, with a caution to preserve it still a secret from 
 Andy, and appointing an hour for dinner at " Morrison's" 
 next day, at which hotel the Squire expected to arrive from 
 the country, with his lady and Fanny Dawson, en route for 
 London. Till dinner-time, then, the day following, Dick 
 was obhged to lay by his impatience as to the " why and 
 wherefore" of Andy's sudden advancement; but, as the 
 morning was to be occupied with Tom Durfy^s wedding, 
 Dick had enough to keep him engaged in the meantime. 
 
 At the appointed hour a few of Tom's particular friends 
 were in attendance to witness the ceremony, or, to use 
 their own phrase, " to see him turned off," and among 
 them was Tom Loftus. Dick was holding out his hand to 
 *' the colonel," when Tom Durfy stepped betweeu, and in 
 troduced him under his real name. The masquerading 
 trick of the night before was laughed at, with an assurance 
 from Dick that it only fulfilled all he had ever heard of 
 the Protean powers of a gentleman whom he so much 
 wished to know. A few minutes' conversation in the recess 
 of a window put Tom Loftus and Dick the Devil on per- 
 fectly good terms, and Loftus proposed to Dick that they 
 should execute the old-established trick on a bridegroom, 
 of snatching the first kiss from the bride. 
 
 "You must get in Tom's way," said Loftus, " and I'll 
 kiss her. " 
 
 " Why, the fact is," said Dick, " I had proposed that 
 pleasure to myself; and, if it's all the same to you, you can 
 jostle Tom, and I'll do the remainder in good style, I 
 promise you." 
 
 '' That I can't agree to," said Loftus; ''but as it ajtpea^s 
 we both have set our heart on cheating the bridegroom, let 
 us both start fair, and 'tis odd if between us Tom Durfy is 
 not done." 
 
 This was agreed upon, and many minutes did not elapse 
 till the bride made her appearance, and '• hostilities were
 
 ioQ HANDY ANDY. 
 
 about to commence/* The miitual enemy of the 'Miigh 
 contracting parties" first opened his book, and then hia 
 mouth, and in such solemn tones, that it was enough to 
 frighten even a widow, much less a bachelor. As the cere- 
 mony verged to a conclusion, Tom Loftus and Dick the 
 Devil edged up toward their 'vantage-ground on either side 
 of the blooming widow, now nearly finished into a wife, 
 and stood like greyhounds in the slip, ready to start after 
 jjuss (only puss ought to be spelled here with a B). The 
 widow, having been married before, Avas less nervous than 
 Durfy, and, suspecting the intended game, determined to 
 foil both the brigands, who intended to rob the bridegroom 
 of his right; so, when the last word of the ceremony was 
 spoken, and Loftus and Dick made a simultaneous dart 
 upon her, she very adroitly ducked, and allowed the two 
 " ruggers and rievers " to rush into each other's arms, and 
 rub their noses together, while Tom Durfy and his bloom- 
 ing bride sealed their contract very agreeably without their 
 noses getting in each other's way. 
 
 Loftus and Dick had only a laugh at t7iefr 02ml expense, 
 instead of a kiss at Tom's, upon the failure of their plot; 
 but Loftus, in a whisper to Dick, vowed he would execute 
 a trick upon the " pair of them " before the day was over. 
 
 There was a breakfast as usual, and chicken and tongue 
 and wine, which, taken in the morning, are provocative of 
 eloquence; and, of course, the proper quantity of healths 
 and toasts were executed selo7i la regie, imtil it was time 
 for the bride and bridegroom to bow and blush and courtesy 
 out of the room, and make themselves food for a paragraph 
 in the morning papers, under the title of the "happy 
 pair," who set off in a handsome chariot, etc., etc. 
 
 S)C ^ 5fC ^ ^ ^ •V* 
 
 Tom Durfy had engaged a pretty cottage in the neigh- 
 borhood of Clontarf to pass the honey-moon. Tom Loftus 
 knew this, and knew, moreover, that the sitting-room 
 looked out on a small lawn which lay before the house, 
 screened by a hedge from the road, but with a circular 
 sweep leading up to the house, and a gate of ingress and 
 egress at either end of the hedge. In this sitting-room 
 Tom, after lunch, was pressing his lady fair to take a glass 
 of champagne, when the entrance-gate was thrown open, 
 and a hackney jaunting-car, with Tom Loftus and a friend 
 or two upon it, driven by a special ragamuffin blowing a
 
 HANDY AKDY. 45 T 
 
 an horn, rolled up the skimping avenue, and as it scoured 
 
 past the windows of the sitting-room, Tom Loftus and the 
 
 othea- passengers kissed hands to the astonished bride and 
 
 bridegroom, and shouted, ''Wish you joy!" 
 
 The thing was so sudden that Durfy and the widow, not 
 
 seeing Loftus, could hardly comprehend what it meant, 
 
 and both ran to the window; but just as they reached it, 
 
 up drove another car, freighted with two or three more 
 
 wild rascals, who followed Ihe lead which had been given 
 
 them; and as a long train of cars were seen in the distance 
 
 all driving up to the avenue, the widow, with a timid little 
 
 scream, threw her handkerchief over her face and ran into 
 
 a corner. Tom did not know whether to laugh or be angry, 
 
 but, being a good-humored fellow, he satisfied himself with 
 
 a f 3W oaths against the incorrigible Loftus, and when the 
 
 cortege had passed, endeavored to restore the startled fair 
 
 one to her serenity. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Squire Egan and party arrived at the appointed hour at 
 'their hotel, where Dick was waiting to receive them, and, 
 of course, his inquiries were immediately directed to the 
 extraordinary circumstances of Andy's elevation, the de- 
 tails of which he desired to know. These we shall not give 
 in the expanded form in whicli Dick heard them, but en- 
 deavor to condense, as much as possible, within the limits 
 to which we are prescribed. 
 
 The title of Scatterbrani had never been inherited di- 
 rectly from father to son; it had descended in a zigzag 
 fashion, most appropriate to the name, nephews and cous- 
 ins having come in for the coronet and the property for 
 some generations. The late lord had led a roue bachelor 
 life up to the age of sixty, and then thought it not worth 
 while to marry, though many mammas and daughters 
 spread their nets and arrayed their charms to entrap the 
 sexagenarian. 
 
 The truth was, he had quaffed the cup of licentious 
 pleasures all his life, after which he thought matrimony 
 would prove insipid. The mere novelty induces some men^ 
 under similar circumstances, to try the holy estate; but 
 matrimony could not offer to Lord Scatterbrain the charms 
 of novelty, for Jie had been once married, though no one 
 but himself was cognizant of the fact. 
 
 The reader will certainly say, " Here's an Irish bull
 
 458 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 how could a man be married, without, at least, a woman 
 and a priest being joint possessor of the secret ?'' 
 
 Listen, gentle reader, and you shall hear how none but 
 Lord Scatterbrain knew Lord Scatterbrain was married. 
 
 There was nothing at which he ever stopped for the 
 gratification of his passions — no wealth he would not 
 squander, no deceit he would not practice, no disguise he 
 would not assume. Therefore, gold, and falsehood, and 
 masquerading were extensively employed by this reckless 
 roue in the service of Venus, in which service, combined 
 with that of Bacchus, his life was entirely passed. 
 
 Often he assumed the guise of a man in humble life, to 
 approximate some object of his desire, whom fine clothes 
 and bribery would have instantly warned; and in too many 
 cases his artifices were successful. It was in one of these 
 adventures he cast his eyes upon the woman hitherto 
 known in this story under the name of the Widow Kooney; 
 but all his practices against her virtue were unavailing, 
 and nothing but a marriage could accomplish what he had 
 set his fancy upon; but even thiti would not stop him, for 
 he married her. 
 
 The Widow Rooney has appeared no very inviting j)er- 
 sonage through these pages, and the reader may wonder 
 that a man of rank could proceed to such desperate lengths 
 upon such slight temptation; but, gentle reader, she was 
 young and attractive when she married — never to say hand- 
 some, but good-looking decidedly, and with that sort of 
 figure which is comj)rehended in the phrase "a fine girl." 
 
 And has that fine girl altered into the Widow Rooney? 
 Ah! poverty and hardship are sore trials to the body as 
 well as to the mind. Too little is it considered, while we 
 gaze on aristocratic beauty, how much good food, soft 
 lying, warm wrapping, ease of mind, have to do with the 
 attractions which command our admiration. Many a hand 
 molded by nature to give elegance of form to a kid glove, 
 is " stinted of its fair proportion " by grubbing toil. The 
 foot which might have excited the admiration of a ball- 
 room, peeping under a flounce of lace in a s&tin shoe, and 
 treading the mazy dance, 'will grow coarse and broad by 
 tramping in its native state over tiresome miles, bearing 
 perchance to a market town some few eggs, whose whole 
 produce would not purchase the sandal-tie of my lady's 
 slipper; will grow red and rough by standing in wet
 
 HANDY ANDY. 459 
 
 trenches and feeling the winter's frost. The neck on which 
 diamonds might have worthily sparkled, will look less 
 tempting when the biting winter has hung icicles there for 
 gems. Cheeks formed as fresh for dimpling blushes, eyes 
 as well to sparkle, and lips to smile, as those which shed 
 their brightness and their witchery in the tapestried sa- 
 loon, Avill grow pale with want, and forget their dimples, 
 when smiles are not there to wake them; lips become 
 compressed and drawn with anxious thought, and eyes th- 
 brightest are quenched of their fires by many tears. 
 
 Of all these trials poor Widow Rooney had enough. 
 Her husband, after living with her a month, in the char- 
 acter of a steward to some great man in a distant part of 
 the country, left her one day for the purpose of transacting 
 business at a fair, which, he said, would require his absence 
 for some time. At the end of a week, a letter was sent to 
 her, stating that the make-believe steward had robbed his 
 master extensively, and had fled to America, whence he 
 promised to write to her, and send her means to follow 
 him, requesting, in the meantime, her silence, in case any 
 inquiry should be made about him. This villainous trick 
 was played off the more readily from the fact that a stew- 
 ard had absconded at the time, and the difference in the 
 name the cruel profligate accounted for by saying that, as 
 he was hiding at the moment he married her, he had as- 
 sumed another name. 
 
 The poor deserted girl, fully believing this trumped-up 
 tale, obeyed with unflinching fidelity the injunctions of her 
 betrayer: and while reports were fl}'ing abroad of the ab- 
 sconded steAvard, she never breathed a word of what had 
 been confided to her, and accounted for the absence of 
 " Kooney " in various ways of her o^n; so that all trace of 
 the profligate Avas lost, by her remaining inactive m mak- 
 ing the smallest inquiry about him, and her very fidelity to 
 her betrayer became the means of her losing all power of 
 procuring his discovery. For months she trusted all was 
 right; but when moon followed moon, and she gave birth 
 to a boy without hearing one word of his father, misgiving 
 came upon her, and the only consolation left her was, that, 
 though she was deserted, and a child left on her hands, still 
 she was an honest woman. That child was the hero of our 
 tale. The neighbors passed some ill-natured remarks about 
 her, when it began to be suspected that her husband would
 
 460 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 never let her know more about him; for she had been 
 rather a saucy lady, holding up her nose at poor men, and 
 triumphing in her catching of the " steward," a man well 
 to do in the world; and it may be remembered that this 
 same spirit existed in her when Andy's rumored marriage 
 with Matty gave the prospect of her affairs being retrieved, 
 for she displayed her love of pre-eminence to the very first 
 person who gave her the good news. The ill-nature of her 
 neighbors, however, after the birth of her child, and the 
 desertion of her husband, inducing her to leave the scene 
 of her unmerited wrongs and annoyances, she suddenly de- 
 camped, and, removing to another part of Ireland, the poor 
 woman began a life of hardship, to support herself and 
 rear the offspring of her unfortunate marriage. In this 
 task she was worthily assisted by one of her brothers, who 
 pitied her condition, and joined her in her retreat. He 
 married in course of time, and his wife died in giving birth 
 to Oonah, who was soon deprived of her other parent by 
 typhus fever, that terrible scourge of the poor; so that the 
 praiseworthy desire of the brother to befriend his sister only 
 involved her, as it happened, in the deeper difficulty of sup- 
 portmg two children instead of one. This she did heroic- 
 ally, and the orphan girl rewarded her, by proving a 
 greater comfort than her own child; for Andy had in- 
 herited in all its raciness the blood of the Scatterbrains, and 
 his deeds, as recorded in this history, prove he was no un- 
 worthy representative of that illustrious title. 
 
 To return to his father — who had done the grievous 
 wrong to the poor peasant girl : he lived his life of profligacy 
 through, and in a foreign countr}' died at last; but on his 
 death-bed the scourge of conscience rendered every helpless 
 hour an age of woe. Bitterest of all was the thought of the 
 wife deceived, deserted, and unacknowledged. To face his 
 last account with such fearful crime upon his head he dared 
 not, and made all the reparation now in his power, by avow- 
 ing his marriage in his last will and testament, and giving all 
 the information in his power to trace his wife, if living, or his 
 heir, if such existed. He enjoined, by the most sacred in- 
 junctions upon him to whom the charge was committed, that 
 neither cost nor trouble should be spared in the search, 
 leaving a large sum in ready money besides, to establish the 
 right, in case his nephew disputed the will. By his own 
 order, his death was kept secret, and secretly his agent set
 
 HANDY ANBT. 461 
 
 to work to discover any trace of the heir. This, in conse- 
 quence of the ■^^oman changing her place of abode, became 
 more difficult; and it was not until after very minute in- 
 quiry that some trace was picked up, and a letter written 
 to the p^-ish priest of the district to Avhich she had removed, 
 making certain general inquiries. It was foimd, on com- 
 paring dates some time after, that it was this very letter to 
 Father Blake which Andy had purloined from the post- 
 office, and the Squire had thrown into the fire; so that our 
 hero was very near, by his blundering, destroying his own 
 fortune. Luckily for him, however, an untiring and in- 
 telligent agent was engaged in his cause, and a subsequent 
 inquiry, and finally a personal visit to Father Blake, cleared 
 the matter up satisfactorily, and the widow was enabled to 
 produce such proof of her identity, and that of her son, 
 that Handy Andy was indisputably Lord Scatterbrain; 
 and the whole afl'air was managed so secretly, that the 
 death of the late lord, and the claim of title and estates in 
 the name of the rightful heir, were announced at the same 
 moment; and the " Honorable Sackville,^'' instead of com- 
 ing into possession of the peerage and property, and fight- 
 ing his adversary at the great advantage of possession, 
 could only commence a suit to drive him out, if he sued at 
 all. 
 
 Our limits compel us to this brief sketch of the circum- 
 stances through which Handy Andy was entitled to and be- 
 came possessed of a property and a title, and we must now 
 say something of the eiiects produced by the intelligence on 
 the parties most concerned. 
 
 The Honorable Sackville Scatterbrain, on the advice of 
 high legal authority, did not attempt to dispute a succes- 
 sion of which such satisfactory proofs existed, and, fort- 
 imately for himself, had knocked up a watering-place 
 match, while he was yet in the bloom of heirship pre- 
 sumptive to a peerage, with the daughter of an English 
 millionaire. 
 
 When the Widow Rooney heard the extraordinary turn 
 iiffairs had taken, her emotions, after the first few hours 
 of pleasurable surprise, partook of regret rather than 
 satisfaction. She looked upon her past life of sufl'ering, 
 ftnd felt as if Fate had cheated her. She, a peeress, had 
 passed her life in poverty and suffering, with contempt 
 from those over whom she had superior rights; and the few
 
 463 HANDT ANDY. 
 
 years of the prosperous future before lier offered her poor 
 compensation for tlie pincliing past. But after such selfish 
 considerations, the maternal feeling came to her relief, and 
 she rejoiced that her son was a lord. But then came the 
 terrible thought of his marriage to dash her joy and 
 triumph. 
 
 This was a source of grief to Oonah as well. " If he 
 wasn't married/' she would say to herself, " I might be 
 Lady Scatterbrain ;" and the tears would burst through 
 poor Oonah's fingers as she held them up to her eyes and 
 sobbed heavily, till the poor girl would try to gather con- 
 solation from the thought that, may be, Andy's altered cir- 
 cumstances would make her disregarded. " There would 
 be plenty to have him now, " thought she, ''and he wouldn't 
 think of me, may be — so 'tis well as it is. " 
 
 When Andy heard that he was a lord — a real lord — and, 
 after the first shock of astonishment, could comprehend 
 that wealth and power Avere in his possession, he, though 
 the most interested jierson, never thought, as the two 
 women had done, of the desperate strait in which his 
 marriage placed him, but broke oiit into short peals of 
 laughter, and exclaimed in the intervals, "that it was 
 mighty quare;" and when, after much questioning, any in- 
 telligible desire he had could be understood, the first one 
 he clearly expressed was "to have a (joold wafch." 
 
 He was made, however, to understand that other things 
 than " goold watches " were of more importance; and the 
 Squire, with his characteristic good nature, endeavored to 
 open Andy's comprehension to the nature of his altered 
 situation. This, it may be sujDposed, was rather a compli- 
 cated piece of work, and too difficult to be set down in 
 black and white; the most intelligible portions to Andy 
 were his immediate removal from servitude, and a ready- 
 made suit of gentlemanly apparel, which made Andy pay 
 several visits to the looking-glass. Good-natured as the 
 Squire was, it would have been equally awkward to him as 
 to Andy for the newly fledged lord, though a lord, to have 
 a seat at his table, neither could he remain in an inferior 
 position in his house; so Dick, who loved fun, volunteered 
 to take Andy under his special care to London, and let him 
 share his lodgings, as a bachelor may do many things which 
 a man surrounded by his family can not. Besides, in a 
 place distant from such extraordinary chances and changes
 
 HANDY ANDY. 463 
 
 as those which befell our hero, the sudden and startling 
 difference of position of the parties not being known ren- 
 ders it possible for a gentleman to do the good-natured 
 thing which l>ick undertook, without compromising him- 
 self. In DubJin it would not have done for Dick Dawson 
 to allow the man who would have held his horse the day 
 before, to share the same board with him merely because 
 Fortune had played one of her frolics and made Andy a 
 lord; but in Loudon the case was different. 
 
 To London therefore they proceeded. The incidents of 
 the JouiTiey, seasickness included, which so astonished the 
 new traveler, we pass over, as well as the numberless mis- 
 takes in the great metropolis, whiili afforded Dick plenti- 
 ful amusement, though, in truth, Dick had better objects 
 in view than laughing at Andy's embarrassments in his 
 new position. He really wished to help him in the diffi- 
 cult path into which the new lord had been thrust, and did 
 this in a merry sort of way more successfully thai by 
 serious drilling. It ^was hard to break Andy of the habit 
 of saying " Misther Dick " when addressing him, but, 
 at last, " Misther Dawson " was established. Eating Mith 
 his knife, drinking as loudly as a horse, and other like ac- 
 complishments, were not so easily got under, yet it was 
 wonderful how much he improved, as his shyness grew 
 less, and his consciousness of being a lord grew stronger. 
 
 But, if the good nature of Dick had not prompted him 
 to take Andy into training, the newly discovered nobleman 
 would not have long been in want of society. It was won- 
 derful how many persons were eager to show civility to 
 his lordship, and some amongst them even went so far as 
 to discover relationship. Plenty were soon ready to take 
 Lord Scatterbrain here, and escort him there, accompany 
 him to exhibitions and other public pUces, and charmeel 
 all the time with his lordship's remarks — "they were so 
 original " — "quite delightful to meet something so fresh " 
 — "how remarkably clever the Irish were!" Such were 
 among the observations his ignorant blunders produced; 
 and he who, as Handy Andy, liad been anathematized all 
 his life as a " stupid rascal," " a blundering thief," " a 
 thick-headed brute," etc., under the title of Lord Scatter- 
 brain all of a sudden was voted "vastly amusing — a little 
 eccentric, perhaps, but so droll — in fact, so witty!" 
 
 This was all very delightful for Andy — so delightful thai
 
 46-1- Sandy andy. 
 
 he quite forgot Bridget rliua. But that lady did not leavo 
 liim loug in his happy obhviousness. One day, while Dick 
 was absent, and Andy rocking on a chair before the fire, 
 twirling the massive gold chain of liis gold watch round 
 his forefinger, and uncoiling it again, his repose was sud- 
 denly disturbed by the appearance of Bridget herself, ac- 
 companied by ShiiJi More and a shrimp of a man in rusty 
 black, who turned out to be a shabby attorney who ad- 
 vanced money to convey his lady client and her brother to 
 London, for the purpose of making a dash at the lord at 
 once, and securing a handsome sum by a coup de main. 
 
 Andy, though taken by surprise, was resolute. Bitter 
 words were exchanged; and as they seemed likely to lead 
 to blows, Andy prudently laid hold of the poker, and, in 
 language not quite suited to a noble lord, swore he would 
 see what the inside of Shnn Move's head was made of, if 
 he attempted to advance upon him. Bridget screamed and 
 scolded, while the attorney endeavored to keep the peace, 
 and, beyond everything, urged Lord Scatterbrain to enter 
 at once into written engagements for a handsome settle- 
 ment upon his ' ' lady. " 
 
 ''Lady!" exclaimed Andy; " oh! — a -^xeiijlady she is!" 
 
 ''I'm as good a lady as you are a lord, anyhow," cried 
 Bridget. 
 
 " Altercation will do no good, my lord and my lady," 
 said the attorney; " let me suggest the propriety of your 
 writing an engagement at once;" and the Uttle man pushed 
 pen, ink, and paper toward Andy. 
 
 "I can't, I tell you!" cried Andy. 
 
 "You must!" roared Shan More. 
 
 "Bad luck to you, how can I when I never larned?" 
 
 " Your lordship can make your mark," said the attorney. 
 
 "Faith I can — with a poker," cried Andy; "and you'd 
 better take care, master parchment. Make my mark, in- 
 deed — do you think I'd disgrace the House o' Peers by 
 lettin' on that a lord couldn't write? Quit the building, I 
 tell you!" 
 
 In the midst of the row, which now rose to a tremen- 
 dous pitch, Dick returned; and after a severe reprimand 
 to the pettifogger for his sinister attemjjt on Andy, re- 
 ferred him to Lord Scatterb rain's solicitor. It was. not 
 Buch an easy matter to silence Bridget, who extended her 
 claws toward her lord and master in a very menacing
 
 HANDT ANDY. 465 
 
 manner, calling do^ii bitter imprecations on her own head 
 if she wouldn't have her rights. 
 
 Every now and then between the bursts of the storm 
 A.ndy would exclaim, " Get out!" 
 
 " My lord," said Dick, " remember your dignity." 
 
 " Av coorse!" said Andy; " but still she must get out!" 
 
 The house was at last cleared of the uproarious party; 
 but though Andy got rid of their presence, they left their 
 Bting behind. Lord Scatterbrain felt, for the first time, 
 that a lord can be very imhappy. 
 
 Dick hurried him away at once to the chambers of the law 
 agent, but he, being closeted on some very important busi- 
 ness with another client on their arrival, returned an an- 
 swer to their application for a conference, which they 
 forwarded through the double doors of this sanctum by a 
 hard-looking man with a jsen behind his ear, that he could 
 not have the pleasure of seeing them till the next morning. 
 Lord Scatterbrain passed a more unhappy night than he 
 liatl ever done in his life — even than that when he was tied 
 up to the old tree — croaked at by ravens, and the despised 
 of rats. 
 
 Negotiations were opened the next day between the 
 pettifogger on Bridget's side and the law agent of the no- 
 ble lord, and the arguments, j^ro and con, lay thus: 
 
 In the first place, the opening declaration was — Lord 
 Scatterbrain never would live with the aforesaid Bridget. 
 
 Answered — that nevertheless, as she was his lawful wife, 
 a provision suitable to her rank must be made. 
 
 They (the claimants) were asked to name a sum. 
 
 The sum was considered exorbitant; it being argued that 
 when her husband had determined never to Hve with her, 
 he was in a far different condition, therefore it was imfair 
 to seek so large a separate maintenance now. 
 
 The pettifogger threatened that Lady Scatterbrain would 
 run in debt, which Lord Scatterbrain must discharge. My 
 Lord's agent suggested that my Lady would be advertised 
 in the pubHc papers, and the public cautioned against 
 giving her credit. 
 
 A sum could not be agreed upon, though a fair one was 
 offered on Andy's part; for the greediness of the pettifog- 
 ger, who was to have a share of the plunder, made him 
 hold out for more, and negotiations were broken off for 
 Bome days.
 
 40fJ HANDY ANDY. 
 
 Poor Andy was in a wretched state of vexation, ^c was. 
 bad enough that lie was married to tnis abominable woman, 
 without an additional plague of being persecuted by her. 
 To such an amount this rose at last, that she and her bi*? 
 brother dodged him every time he left the house, so that 
 in self-defense he was obliged to become a close prisoner ' 
 in his own lodgings. All this at last became so intolerable 
 to the captive, that he urged a speedy settlement of the ' 
 vexatious question, and a larger separate maintenance was 
 granted to the detestable woman than would otherwise have 
 been ceded, the only stipulation of a stringent nature made 
 being, that Lord Scatterbrain should be free from the per- 
 secutions of his hateful wife for the future. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 Squike Egan, with his lady and Fanny Dawson, had 
 now arrived in London; Murtough Murphy, too, had joined 
 them, his services being requisite in w^orking the petition 
 against the return of the sitting member for the county. 
 This had so much promise of success about it, that the op- 
 posite party, who had the sheriff for the county iu their in- 
 terest, bethought of a novel expedient to frustrate the peti- 
 tion when a reference to the poll was required. 
 
 They declared the principal poll-book was lost. 
 
 This seemed not very satisfactory to one side of the com- 
 mittee, and the question was asked, " how could it be 
 lost?" The answer was one which Irish contrivance alone 
 could have invented: " It fell into a pot of broth, and the 
 dog ate it."* 
 
 This protracted the contest for some time; but eventu- 
 ally, in spite of the dog's devouring knowledge so greedily, 
 the Squire was declared duly elected and took the oaths 
 and his seat for the county. 
 
 It was hard on Sackville Scatterbrain to lose his seat in 
 the house and a peerage, Hearly at once; but the latter 
 loss threw the former so far into the shade, that he scarcely 
 felt it. Besides, he could console himself with having but- 
 
 * If not this identical answer, somethino; like it was given on a 
 disputed Irish election, before a Committee of the House of CoiU' 
 moos.
 
 HANDY ANDT. 467 
 
 tered his crumbs pretty well in the marriage-market; and, 
 with a rich wife, retired from senatorial drudgery to pri- 
 vate repose, which was much more congenial to his easy 
 temper. 
 
 But while the Squire's happy family circle was rejoieing 
 in his triumph — while he was invited to the Speaker's din- 
 ners, and the ladies were looking forward to tickets for 
 " the lantern," their pleasure was suddenly dashed by fata) 
 news from Ireland. 
 
 A serious accident had befallen Major Dawson — so 
 serious, that his life was despaired of; and an immediate 
 return to Ireland by all who were interested in his life was 
 the consequence. 
 
 Though the suddenness of this painful event shocked his 
 family, the act w^hich caused it did not surprise them; for 
 it was one against which Major Dawson had been repeat- 
 edly cautioned, involving a danger he had been affection- 
 ately requested not to tempt; but the habitual obstinacy of 
 his nature prevailed, and he persisted in doing that which 
 his son — and his daughters — and friends — jiro-phesied would 
 kill him some time or other, and did, at last. The Major 
 had three little iron guns, mounted on carriages, on a ter- 
 race in front of his house; and it was his wont to fire » 
 salute on certain festival days from these guns, which, from 
 age and exposure to the weather, became dangerous to use. 
 It was in vain that his danger was represented to him. He 
 would reply, with his accustomed " Pooh! pooh! I have 
 been firing these guns for forty years, and they won't do 
 nie any harm now." 
 
 This was the prime fault of the major's character. Time 
 and circumstances were never taken into account by him; 
 what was done once, might be done always — ought to be 
 done always. The bare thought of change of any sort, to 
 him, was unbearable; and whether it was a rotten old law 
 or a rotten old gun, he would charge both up to the muzzle 
 and fire away, regardless of consequences. The result 
 was, that on a certain festival his favorite gun burst in dis- 
 charging; and the last mortal act of which the major was 
 conscious, was that of putting the port-fire to the toucli- 
 hole, for a heavy splinter of iron struck him on the b*:;ad, 
 and though he lived for some days afterward, he was in- 
 sensible. Before his children arrived he was no more; and
 
 468 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 the only duty left them to perform was the melancholy one 
 of ordering his fmieral. 
 
 The obsequies of the old Major were honored by a large 
 and distinguished attendance from all parts of the country; 
 and amongst those who bore the p;dl was Edward O'Con- 
 nor, who had the melancholy gratification of testifying his 
 respect beside the grave of Fanny's father, though the 
 gevere old man had banished him from his pi'esence during 
 his life-tiL-e. 
 
 But now all obstacle to the miion of Edward and Fanny 
 was removed ; and after the lapse of a few days had soft- 
 ened the bitter grief which this sudden bereavement of her 
 father had jjroduced, Edward received a note from Dick, 
 inviting him to the manor-house, where all would be glad 
 to see him. 
 
 In a few minutes after the receijjt of that note Edward 
 was in his saddle, and swiftly leaving the miles behind him 
 till, from the toj) of a rising ground, the roof of the manor- 
 house appeared above the trees in which it was embosomed. 
 He had not till then slackened his speed; but now drawing 
 rein, he proceeded at a slower pace toward the house he 
 htul not entered for some years, and the sight of which 
 awakened such varied emotions. 
 
 To return after long years of painful absence to some 
 place which has been the scene of our former joys, and 
 whence the force of circumstance, and not choice, has 
 driven us, is oppressive to the heart. There is a mixed 
 sense of regret and rejoicing, which struggle for pre- 
 dominance; we rejoice that our term of exile has expired, 
 but we regret the years which that exile has deducted from 
 the brief amount of human life, never to be recalled, and 
 therefore as so much lost to us. We think of the wrong or 
 the caprice of which we have been the victims, and 
 thoughts will stray across the most confiding heart, if 
 friends shall meet as fondly as they parted; or if time, 
 while impressing deeper marks upon the outward form, 
 may have obliterated some impressions luiiliin. Who has 
 returned after years of absence, however assured of the 
 unflinching fidelity of the love he left behind, without say- 
 ing to himself, in the pardonable yearning of affection, 
 " Shall ] meet smiles as bright as those that used to wel- 
 come me? Shall I be pressed as fondly witliin the arms
 
 HANDY ANDY. 4^9 
 
 whose encompassment were to me the pale of all earthly 
 enjoyment?" 
 
 Such thoughts crowded on Edward as he approached the 
 house. There was not a lane, or tree, or hedge, by th» 
 way, that had not for him its associations. He reached the 
 ayenue gate; as he flung it open he remembered the las' 
 time he passed it; Fanny had then leaned on his arm. He 
 felt himself so much excited, that, instead of riding up to 
 the house, he took the private path to the stables, and 
 throwing down the reins to a boy, he turned into a shrub- 
 bery and endeavored to recover his self-command before he 
 should present liimself. As he emerged from the sheltered 
 path and turned into a walk which led to the garden, a 
 small conservatory was opened to his view, awakmg fresh 
 sensations. It was in that very place he had first ventured 
 to declare his love to Fanny. There she heard and frowned 
 not; there, where nature's choicest sweets were exhaling, 
 he had first pressed her to his heart, and thought the 
 balmy sweetness of her lips beyond them all. He hurried 
 forward in the enthusiasm the recollection recalled, to enter 
 that spot consecrated in his memory; but on arriving at 
 the door, he suddenly stopped, for he saw Fanny within. 
 •She was plucking a geranium — the flower she had been 
 plucking some years before, when Edward said he loved 
 her. She, all that morning, had been under the influence 
 of feelings similar to Edward's; had felt the same yearn- 
 ings — the same tender doubts — the same fond solicitude 
 that he should be the same Edward from whom she part- 
 ed. But she thought of 7nore than this; with the exquisite- 
 ly delicate contrivance belonging to woman's nature, she 
 wished to give him a signal of her fond recollection, and 
 was plucking the flower she gathered when he declared his 
 love, to place on her bosom when they should meet. Ed- 
 ward felt the meaning of her action, as the graceful hand 
 broke the flower from its stem. He would have rushed 
 toward her at once, but that the deep mourning in which 
 she was arrayed seemed to command a gentler approach ; 
 for grief commands respect. He advanced softly — she 
 heard a gentle step behind her — turned — uttered a faint 
 exclamation of joy, and sunk into his arms! In a few mo- 
 ments she recovered her consciousness, and opening her 
 sweet eyes upon him, breathed softly, "dear Edward!" 
 and the lips which, in two words, had expressed so much.
 
 4,70 HA.NDY ANDY. 
 
 were impressed with a fervent kiss in the blessed conscious- 
 ne33 of possession, on that very spot where the first timid 
 and doubting word of love had been spoken. 
 
 In that moment he was rewarded for all his years of ab- 
 sence and anxiety. His heart was satisfied ; he felt he wan 
 dear as ever to the woman he idolized, and the short and 
 hurried beating of both their hearts told more than words 
 could express. Words! what were words to them? thought 
 was too swift for their use, and feeling too strong for their 
 utterance; but they drank from each other's eyes large 
 draughts of delight, and, in the silent pressure of each 
 other's welcoming embrace, felt how truly they loved each 
 other. 
 
 He led her gently from the conservatory, and they ex- 
 changed words of affection " soft and low," as they saun- 
 tered through the wooded path which surrounded the house. 
 That livcxong day they wandered up and down together, 
 repeating again and again the anxious yearnings which oc- 
 cupied their years of separation, yet asking each other was 
 not all more than repaid by the gladness of the present — 
 
 *' Yet hoio painful has been the past!" exclaimed Ed- 
 ward. 
 
 " But noiv !" said Fanny, with a gentle pressure of her 
 tiny hand on Edward's arm, and looking up to him with 
 her bright eyes "but notv !" 
 
 " True, darling!" he cried; " 'tis ungrateful to think 
 of the past while enjoying such a present and with such a 
 future before me. Bless that cheerful heart, and those 
 hope-inspiring glances! Oh, Fanny! in the wilderness of 
 life there are springs and palm-trees — you are both to me! 
 and heaven has set its own mark upon you in those laugh- 
 ing blue eyes which might set despair at defiance." 
 
 " Poetical as ever, Edward!" said Fanny, laughing. 
 
 " Sit down, dearest, for a moment, on this old tree, be- 
 side me; 'tis not the first time I have strung rhymes in 
 your presence and your praise," He took a small note- 
 book from his pocket, and Fanny looked on smilingly as 
 Edward's pencil rapidly ran over the leaf and traced the 
 iover's tribute to his mistress. 
 
 "THE SUNSHINE IN YOU. 
 
 I. 
 
 •• Is is sweet when we look round the wide world's waste, 
 To know tliat the desert bestows
 
 HANDY ANDY. 474 
 
 The palms where the weary heart may rert, 
 The spiiug that iti purity flows. 
 
 And where have I found 
 
 In this wilderness round 
 That spring and that shelter so true; 
 
 Unfailing in need, 
 
 And my own, indeed? — 
 Ohl dearest, I've found it in you! 
 
 n. 
 
 '* And, oh, when the cloud of some darkening hour 
 O'ershadows the soul with its gloom. 
 Then where is the light of the vestal pow'r. 
 The lamp of pale hope to illume? 
 Oh! the light ever lies 
 In those bright fond eyes. 
 Where Heaven has impress'd its own blue 
 As a seal from the skies 
 As my heart relies 
 On that gift of sunshine in you!" 
 
 Fanny liked the lines, of course. " Dearest/* she said, 
 '^ may I always prove sunshine to you! Is it not a strange 
 coincidence that these lines exactly fit a little air which oc- 
 curred to me some time ago?'' 
 " 'Tis odd," said Edward; " sing it to me, darling/' 
 Fanny took the verses from his hand, and sung them to 
 her own measure. Oh, happy triumph of the poet! to 
 liear his verses wedded to sweet sounds, and warbled by the 
 woman he loves! Edward caught up the strain, adding 
 his voice to hers in harmony, and thiis they sauntered 
 homeward, trolling their ready-made duet together. There 
 were not two happier hearts in the world that day than 
 those of Fanny Dawson and Edward O'Connor. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 Respect for the memory of Major Dawson of course 
 prevented the immediate marriage of Edward and Fanny; 
 but the winter months passed cheerfully away in looking 
 forward to the following autumn which should witness the 
 completion of their happiness. Though Edward was thus 
 tempted by the society of the one he loved best in the 
 world, it did not make him neglect the duties he had 
 undertaken in behalf of Gustavas. Not only did he prose- 
 cute his reading with him regularly, but he took no small
 
 473 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 pains in looking after tLe involved affairs of the familv, 
 and strove to make satisfactory arrangements with those 
 whose claims were gnawing away the estate to nothing. 
 Though the years of Gusty's minority were but few, still 
 they would give the estate some breathing-time; and 
 creditors, seeing the minor backed by a man of character, 
 and convinced a sincere desire existed to relieve the estate 
 of its incumbrances and pay all just claims, presented a 
 less threatening front than hitherto, and listened readily to 
 such terras of accommodation as were proposed to them. 
 Uncle Robert (for the breaking of whose neck Eatty's 
 pious aspirations had been raised) behaved very well on 
 the occasion. A loan from him, and a partial sale of some 
 of the acres, stopped the mouths of the greedy wolves who 
 fatten on men's ruin, and time and economv were looked 
 forward to for the discharge of all other debts. Uncle 
 Robert, having so far acted the friend, was considered en- 
 titled to have a jjartial voice in the ordering of things at 
 the Hall ; and having a notion that an English accent was 
 genteel, he desired that Gusty and Ratty should pass a 
 year under the roof of a clerg3^mau in England, who re- 
 ceived a limited number of young gentlemen for the com- 
 pletion of their education. Gustavus would much rather 
 have remained near Edward O'Connor, who had already 
 done so much for him; but Edward, though he regretted 
 parting with Gustavus, recommended him to accede to his 
 uncle's wishes, though he did not see the necessity of an 
 Irish gentleman being ashamed of his accent. 
 
 The visit to England, however, Avas postponed till the 
 spring, and the winter months were used by Gustavus in 
 availing himself as much as he could of Edward's assist- 
 ance in putting him through his classics, his pride prompt- 
 ing him to present himself creditably to the English clergy- 
 man. 
 
 It was in vain to plead sucJi pride to Ratty, who paid 
 more attention to shooting than his lessons. His mother 
 strove to persuade — Ratty was deaf. His " gran " strove 
 to bribe — Ratty was incorruptible. Gusty argued — Ratty 
 answered after his own fashion. 
 
 *' Why won't you learn even a little?'* 
 
 " I'm to go to that ' English fellow' in spring, and I 
 shall have no fun then, so I'm making good use of m^ lim^ 
 uow."
 
 HAlfDY ANDY. 473 
 
 " Do 3''ou call it ' good use ' to be so dj-jtu^'uily iale and 
 shamefully ignorant?"' 
 
 " Bother! the less I know, the more the English fellow 
 will have to teach me, and Uncle Bob will have more 
 worth for his money;'' and then Ratty would whistle a jig, 
 fling a fowling-piece over his shoulder, and shout " Ponto! 
 Ponto! Ponto!" as he traversed the stable-yard; the de- 
 lighted pointer would come bounding at the call, and, after 
 circling round his young master with agile grace «ind yelps 
 of glee at the sight of the gun, dash forward to the well- 
 known "bottoms" in eager expectancy of ducks and 
 snipe. 
 
 How fared it all this time with the Lord of Scatterbrain? 
 He became established, for the present, in a house that had 
 been a long time to let in the neighborhood, and his 
 mother was placed at the head of it, and Oonah still re- 
 mained under his protection, though the daily sight of the 
 girl added to Andy's grief at the desperate plight in which 
 his ill-starred marriage placed him, to say nothing of the 
 constant annoyance of his mother's growling at him for his 
 making '* such a Judy of himself;" for the dowager Lady 
 Scatterbrain could not get rid of her vocabulary at once. 
 Andy's only resource under these circumstances was to 
 mount his horse and fly. 
 
 As for the dowager Lady Scatterbrain, she had a car- 
 riage with "a picture" on it, as she called the coat-of- 
 arms, and was fond of driving past the houses of people 
 who had been uncivil to her. Against Mrs. Casey (the re- 
 nowned Matty Dwyer) she entertained an especial spite, in 
 consideration of her treatment of her beautiful boy and her 
 own pair of black eyes; so she determined to " pay her 
 off " in her own way, and stopping one day at the hole in 
 the hedge which served for entrance to the estate of the 
 " three-cornered field," she sent the footman in to say the 
 dowjer Lady Scatter Jreew wanted to speak with " Casey's 
 wife. " 
 
 When the servant, according to instructions, delivered 
 this message, he was sent back witn the answer, *' that if 
 any lady wanted to see Casey's wife, * Casey's wife,' was at 
 home." 
 
 " Oh, go back, and tell the poor woman I don't want tr 
 bring her to the door of my carnage, if it's inconvaynient. 
 I only wished to give lier a little help; and tell her if she
 
 474 HANDT ANDY. 
 
 ecnds up eggs to the big house, Lady ScatterDreen will pay 
 her for them. " 
 
 When the servant delivered this message, Matty grew 
 outrageous at the means " my lady " took of crowing over 
 her, and rushing to tlie door, with her face flushed with 
 rage, roared out, *' Tell the baggage I want none of her 
 custom ; let her lay eggs for herself. ' ' 
 
 The servant staggered back in amaze; and Matty, 
 feeling he would not deliver her message, ran to the hole in 
 the hedge and repeated her answer to my lady herself, 
 
 ' with a great deal more which need not be recorded. Suf- 
 fice it to say, my lady thoiight it necessary to i)ull up the 
 
 f glass, against which Matty threw a handful of mud'; the 
 servant jumped up on his perch behind the carriage, 
 which was rapidly driven away by the coachman, but not 
 so fast that Matty could not, by dint of running, keep it 
 " within range " for some seconds, durmg which time she 
 contrived to pelt both coachman and footman with mud, 
 and leave her mark on their new livery. This was a salu- 
 tary warning to the old woman, who was more cautious in 
 her demonstrations of grandeur J:or the future. If she 
 was stinted in the enjoyment of her new-bom dignity 
 abroad, she could indulge it at home without let or hin- 
 derance, and to this end asked Andy to let her have a hun- 
 dred pounds, in one-pound notes, for a particular purpose. 
 What this purpose was no one was told or could guess, but 
 for a good while after she used to be closeted by herself for 
 several hours during the day. 
 
 Andy had. his hours of retirement also, for with praise- 
 worthy industry he strove hard, poor fellow, to lift him- 
 self above the state of ignorance, and had daily attendance 
 from the parish school-master. The mysteries of pothooks 
 and hangers and ABC weighed heavily on the nobleman's 
 mind, which must have sunk under the burden of scholar- 
 ship and penmanship, but for the other " ship " — the 
 horsemanship — which was Andy's daily self -established re- 
 ward for his perseverance in his lessons. Besides, he really 
 could ride; and as it was the only accomplishment of which 
 he was master, it was no wonder he enjoyed the display of 
 it; and, to say the truth, he did, and that on a first-rate 
 horse too. Having appointed Murtough Murphy his law- 
 agent, he often rode over to the town to talk with him, 
 and as Murtough could have some fun and thirteen and
 
 HANT>\ ANDY. 475 
 
 fourpence also per visit, he was always glad to see his 
 *' noble friend." The high-road did not suit Andy's notion 
 of things; he preferred the variety, shortness, and diver- 
 sion of going across the country on these occasions; and in 
 one of thes'i excursions, in the most secluded portion of his 
 ride, which unavoidably lay through some quarries and 
 deep broken ground, he met " Eagged Nance," who held 
 up her finger as he approached the gorge of this lonely dell, 
 in token that she would speak with him. Andy pulled up. 
 
 " Long life to you, my lord," said Nance, dropping u 
 deep courtesy, " and sure I always liked you since the night 
 you was so bowld for the sake of the poor girl — the yoiuig 
 lady, I mane, now, God bless her — and I just wish to tell you, 
 my lord, that I think you might as well not be going these 
 lonely ways, for I see tJievu hanging about here betimes, 
 that may be it would not be good for your health to meet; 
 and sure, my lord, it would be a hard case if you were 
 killed now, havin' the luck of the sick calf that lived all 
 the winther and died in the summer.'^ 
 
 *' Is it that big blackguard, Shafi More, you mane?" 
 said Andy. 
 
 " No less,'* said Nance — growing deadly pale as she cast 
 a piercing glance into the dell, and cried, in a low, hurried 
 tone — " Talk of the divil — and there he is — ^I see him peep 
 out from behind a rock. " 
 
 ''He's running this way," said Andy. 
 
 "Then you run the other way," said Nance; "look 
 there — I seen him strive to hide a blunderbuss under his 
 coat — ^gallop off, for the love o' God! or there 11 be mur- 
 ther." 
 
 "Maybe there will be that same," said Andy, "if 1 
 leave you here, and he suspects you gave me the hard 
 word."* 
 
 " Never mind me," said Nance, " save yourself — see, 
 he's moving fast, he'll be near enough to you soon to fire." 
 
 " Get up behind me," said Andy; " I won't leave you 
 here.*' 
 
 "Run, I tell you." 
 
 " I won't." 
 
 " God bless you, then," said the woman, as Andy held 
 out his hand and gripped hers firmly. 
 
 * " Hard word " implies a caution.
 
 476 HAKDY ANDT. 
 
 *' Put your foot on mine/' said Andy. 
 
 The woman obeyed, and was soon seated behind our bert», 
 gripping bim fast by the waist, wliile be pushed his horst 
 to a fast canter. 
 
 " Hold hard now," said Andy, *' for there's a stiff juni] 
 here." As he approached the ditch of which he spoke, 
 two men sprung up from it, and one fired, as Andy cleared 
 the leap in good style, Nance holding on gallantly. Thv 
 horse was not many strokes on the opposite side, when 
 another shot was fired in their rear, followed by a screan) 
 from the woman. To Andy's inquiry, if she was " kilt," 
 she replied in the negative, but said " they hurt her sore," 
 and she was " bleeding a power;" but that she could still 
 hold on, however, and urged him to speed. The clearance 
 of one or two more leaps gave her grievous pain; but a 
 large common soon opened before them, which was skirted 
 by a road leading directly to a farm-house, where Andy left 
 the wounded woman, and then galloped off for medical 
 aid ; this soon arrived, and the wound was found not to be 
 dangerous, though painful. The bullet had struck and 
 pierced a tin vessel of a bottle form, in which Nance carried 
 the liquid gratuities of the charitable, and this not only 
 deadened the force of the ball, but glanced it also; and 
 the escapement of the butter-milk, which the vessel con 
 tained, Nance had mistaken for the effusion of her own 
 blood. It was a clear case, however, that if Nance had 
 not been sitting behind Andy, Lord Scatterbrain would 
 have been a dead man, so that his gratitude and gallantry 
 toward the poor beggar woman proved the means of pre- 
 serving his own life. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 The news of the attack on Lord Scatterbrain ran ovei 
 the country like wildfire, and his conduct throughout the 
 affair raised his character wonderfully in the opinion of all 
 classes. Many who had hitherto held aloof from the mush- 
 room lord, came forward to recognize the manly fellow, 
 and cards were left at '' the big house," which were never 
 seen there before. The magistrates were active in the 
 affair, and a reward was immediately offered for the ap- 
 prehension of tlie offenders; but before any active steps 
 could be taken by the authorities, Andy, immediately after
 
 HANDY Al>i>Y. Ali'^ 
 
 tK. attack, collected a few stout fellows himself, and know- 
 ing where the den of Shan and his miscreants lay, he set 
 ofi at the head of his party to try if he could not secure 
 them himself; but before he did this, he dispatched a ve- 
 hicle to the farm-house, where poor Nance lay wounded, 
 with :>rders that she should be removed to his own house, 
 the> .octor having said that the transit would not be inju- 
 rious. 
 
 A short time served to bring Andy and his followers to 
 the private still, where a little looking about enabled them 
 to discover the entrance, which was covered by some large 
 stones, and a bunch of furze placed as a mask to the open- 
 ing. It was clear that it was impossible for any persons 
 inside to have thus covered the entrance, and it suggested 
 the possibility that some of its usual inmates were then ab- 
 sent. Nevertheless, having such desperate characters to 
 deal with, it was a service of danger to be leader in the de- 
 ecent to the cavern when the opening was cleared; but 
 Andy was the first to enter, which lie did boldly, only de- 
 siring his attendants to follow him quickly, and give him 
 support in case of resistance. A lantern had been provided. 
 Andy knowing the darkness of the den; and the parly 
 was thereby enabled to explore with celerity and certainty 
 the hidden haunt of the desperadoes. The ashes of the fire 
 were yet warm, but no one was to be seen, till Andy, draw- 
 ing the screen of the bed, discovered a man lying in u 
 seemingly helpless state, breathing with difficulty, and the 
 straw about him dabbled with blood. On attempting to 
 lift him, the wretch groaned heavily and muttered, " 1) — n 
 you, let me alone — you've done for me — I'm dying.''' 
 
 The man was gently carried from the cave to the open 
 air, which seemed slightly to revive him. His eyes opened 
 heavily, but closed again; yet still he breathed. His wounds 
 •were stanched as well as the limited means and knowl- 
 edge of the parties present allowed ; and the ladder, drawn 
 up from the cave and overlaid with tufts of heather, served 
 to bear the sufferer to the nearest house, whence Andy 
 ordered a mounted messenger to hurry for a doctor. The 
 man seemed to hear what was going forward, for he faintly 
 muttered, " the priest — the priest." 
 
 Andy, anxious to procure this most essential comfort to 
 the dying man, went himself in search of Father Blake, 
 whom he found at Jiome, and who suggested that a mag
 
 478 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 istrate might be also useful upon the occasion; andasMer. 
 ryvale lay not much out of the way, Andy made a detou? 
 to obtain the presence of Squire Egan, while Father Blake 
 pushed directly onward upon his ghostly mission. 
 
 Andy and the Squire arrived soon after the priest had 
 atlministered spiritual comfort to the sufferer, who still re- 
 tained sufficient strength to make his depositions before 
 the Squire, the purport of which turned out to be of the 
 utmost importance to Andy. 
 
 This man, it appeared, was the husband of Bridget, who 
 had returned from transportation, and sought his wife and 
 her dear brother, and his former lawless associates, on 
 reaching Ireland. On finding Bridget had married again, 
 his anger at her infidelity was endeavored to be appeased 
 by the representations made to him that it was a " good 
 job,^* inasmuch as " the lord " had been screwed out of a 
 good sum of money by way of separate maintenance, and 
 that he would share the advantage of that. When mat- 
 ters were more explained, however, and the convict found 
 this money was divided among so many, who all claimed 
 right of share in the 2:)lunder, his discontent retui'ned. In 
 the first place, the pettifogger made a large haul for Ins 
 services. Shan More swore it was hard if a woman's own 
 brother was not to be the better for her luck; and Larry 
 Logan claimed hush-money, for he could prove Bridget's 
 marriage, and so upset their scheme of plunder. The con- 
 vict maintained his cLiim as husband was stronger than 
 any; but this, all the others declared, was an outlandish 
 notion he brought back with him from foreign parts, and 
 did not prevail in their code of laws by any manner o' 
 means, and even went so far as to say they thought it hard, 
 after they had '' done the job, " that he was to come in and 
 lessen their profit, wliich he would, as they were willing to 
 give an even share of the spoil; and after that, he must be 
 the most discontented villain in the world if he was not 
 pleased. 
 
 The convict feigned contentment, but meditated at once 
 revenge against his wife and the gang, and separate profit 
 for himself. He thought he might stipulate for a good 
 round sum from Lord Scatterbrain, as he could prove iiim 
 free of his supposed matrimonial engagement, and inward- 
 ly resolved he would socn pay a visit to his lordship. But 
 liia mteniions were suspected by the gang, and a sirici
 
 HANDY AXDT. 479 
 
 watch kept upon him; and though his dissiniuiation and 
 contrivance were of no inferior order, Larry Hogan was his 
 ovwmatch, and the convict was detected in having been so 
 near Lord Scatterbrain's dwelHng, that they feared their 
 secret, if not ah-eady revealed, was no longer to be trusted 
 to their new confederate's keeping; and it was deemed ad- 
 visable to knock him on the head, aud shoot my lord, 
 which they thought would jsi-event all chance of the inva- 
 hdity of the marriage being discovered, and secure the 
 future payment of the maintenance. 
 
 How promptly the murderous determination was acted 
 upon, the preceding events prove. Andy's courage in the 
 first part of the affair saved his life; his promptness in 
 afterward seeking to secure the offenders led to the im- 
 portant discovery he had just made; and as the convict's 
 depositions could be satisfactorily backed by proofs which 
 he showed the means of obtaining, Andy was congratulated 
 heartily by the Squire and Father Blake, and rode home in 
 almost delirious delight at the jJi'ospect of making Oonah 
 his wife. On reaching the stables, he threw himself from 
 liis saddle, let the horse make his own way to his stall, 
 dashed through the back hall, and nearly broke his neck in 
 tumbling iipstairs, burst open the drawing-room door, and 
 made a rush upon Oonah, whom he hugged and kissed 
 most outrageously, amidst exclamations of the wildest affec- 
 tion. 
 
 Oonah, half strangled and struggling for breath, at lasfc 
 freed herself from his embraces, and acked him, angrily, 
 what he was about — in which inquiry she was backed by his 
 mother. 
 
 Andy answered by capering round the room, shouting, 
 " Hurroo! I'm not married at all — hurroo!" He turned 
 over the chairs, upset the tables, threw the mantel-piece 
 ornaments into the fire, seized the poker and tongs, and 
 banged them together as he continued dancing and shout- 
 
 Oonah and his mother stood gazing at his antics in 
 trembling amazement, till at last the old woman ex- 
 claimed, "Holy Vargin! he's gone mad!" whereupon she 
 and her niece set up a violent screaming, which called 
 Andy back to his propriety, and, as well as his excitement 
 would permit, he told them the cause of his extravagant 
 joy. His wonder and delight were shared by his mother
 
 480 HAKDT ANDY. 
 
 aud the blushing Ooiiah, who did not struggle so hard ir, 
 Andy^s embrace on his making a second vehement demon- 
 stration of his love for her. 
 
 " Let me send for Father Blake, my jewel/' said Andy, 
 " an"* I'll marry you at once." 
 
 His mother reminded him he must first have his present 
 marriage proved invalid. Andy uttered several pieces of 
 original eloquence on "the law's delay." " Well, any- 
 how," said he, " I'll drink 3^our health, my darling girl, 
 this day, as Lady Scatterbrain — for you must consider 
 yourself as sitch." 
 
 *' Behave yourself, my lord," said Oonah, archly. 
 
 " Bother!" cried Andy, snatching another kiss. 
 
 " Hillo!" cried Dick Dawson, entering at the moment, 
 and seeing the romping- match. " You're losing no timOj 
 I see, Andy." 
 
 Oonah was running from the room, laughing and blush- 
 ing, when Dick interposed, and cried, " Ah, don't go, * my 
 lady, ' that is to ie. " 
 
 Oonah slapped down the hand that barred her progress, 
 exclaiming, *' You're just as bad as he is. Mister Daw 
 son!" and ran away. 
 
 Dick had ridden over, on hearing the news, to congratu- 
 late Andy, and consented to remain and dine with him. 
 Oonah had rather, after what had taken place, he had not 
 been there, for Dick backed Andy in his tormenting the 
 girl and joined heartily in drinking to Andy's toast, which, 
 according to promise, he gave to the health of the future 
 Lady Scatterbrain. 
 
 It was impossible to repress Andy's wild delight; and in 
 the excitement of the hour he tossed off bumper after bum- 
 per to all sorts of love-making toasts, till he was quite over- 
 come by his potations, and fit for no place but bed. To 
 this last retreat of " the glorious " he was requested to re- 
 tire, and, after much coaxing, consented. He staggered 
 over to the window-curtain, which he mistook for that of 
 the bed; in vain they wanted to lead him elsewhere — he 
 would sleep in no other bed but that — and, backing out at 
 the window-pane, he made a smash, of which he seemed 
 sensible, for he said it wasn't a fair trick to put pins in the 
 bed. " I know it was Oonah did that! — hip! — ha! ha! 
 Lady Scatterbrain ! — never mind — hip! — I'll have my re- 
 venge on you yet!"
 
 HANDY ANDY, 48] 
 
 They could not get. him upstairs, so his mother suggest- 
 ed he should sleep in her room, which was on the same 
 floor, for that night, and at last he was got into the apart- 
 ment. There he was assisted to disrobe, as he stood sway- 
 ing about at a dressing-table. Chancing to lay his hands 
 on a pill-box, he mistook it for his watch. 
 
 " Stop — stop!" he stammered forth — " I must wind my 
 watch;^' and, suiting the action to the word, he began 
 twisting about the pill-box, the lid of which came off and 
 the pills fell about the floor. " Oh, murdher!'^ said Lord 
 Scatterbrain, '' the works of my watch are fallin' about the 
 flure — pick them up — pick them up — jDick them up — " 
 He could speak no more, and becoming quite incapable 
 of all voluntary action, was undressed and put to bed, the 
 last sound which escaped him being a faint muttering^ 
 *' pick them up.'' 
 
 CHAPTER THE LAST. 
 
 The day following the eventful one just recorded, the 
 miserable convict breathed his last. A printed notice was 
 posted in all the adjacent villages, offering a reward for 
 the apprehension of Slian More and ' ' other persons un- 
 known," for their murderous assault; and a small reward 
 was promised for such " private information as might lead 
 to the apprehension of the aforesaid," etc., etc. Larry 
 Hogan at once came forward and put the authorities on 
 the scent, but still Shan and his accomplices remained un- 
 discovered. Larry's information on another subject, how- 
 ever, was more effective. He gave his own testimony to 
 the previous marriage of Bridget, and pointed out the 
 means of obtaining more, so that, ere long, Lord Scatter- 
 brain was a " free man." Though the depositions of the 
 murdered man did not directly imphcate Larry in the mur- 
 derous attack, still it showed that he had participated in 
 much of their villainy; but, as in difficult cases, we must 
 put up with bad instruments to reach the ends of justice, 
 so this rascal was useful for his evidence and private infor- 
 mation, and got his reward. 
 
 But he got his reward in more ways than one. He knew 
 that he dare not longer remain in the country after what 
 had taken place, and set off directly for Dublin by the 
 mail, intending to proceed to England; but England he 
 
 ?6
 
 482 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 never reached. As he was proceeding down the Custom- 
 house quay in the dusk of the evening, to get on ship- 
 board, his arms were suddenly seized and drawn behind 
 him by a powerful grasp, while a woman in front drew a 
 handkerchief across his mouth, and stifled his attempted 
 cries. His bundle was dragged from him, and the woman 
 ransacked his pockets; but they contained but a few shil- 
 lings, Larry having hidden the wages of his treachery to his 
 confederates in the folds of his neck-cloth. To pluck this 
 from his throat, many a fierce wrench was made by the 
 woman, when her attempts on the pockets proved worth- 
 less; but the handkerchief was knotted so tightly that she 
 could not disengage it. The apjjroach of some passengers 
 along the quay alarmed the assailants of Larry, who, ere 
 the iron grip released him, heard a deep curse in his ear 
 
 growled by a voice he well knew, and then he felt himself 
 urled with gigantic force from the quay wall. Before the 
 base, cheating, faithless scoundrel could make one excla- 
 mation, he was plunged into the Liffey — even befpre one 
 mental aspiration for mercy, he was in the throes of suffo- 
 cation! The heavy splash in the water caught the atten- 
 tion of those whose approach had alarmed the murderers, 
 and seeing a man and woman running, a pursuit com- 
 menced, which ended by Newgate having two fresh ten- 
 ants the next day. 
 
 And 80 farewell to the entire of the abominable crew^ 
 whose evil doings and merited fates have only been record' 
 ed when it became necessary to our story. It is better to 
 leave the debased and the profligate in oblivion than drag 
 their doings before the day; and it is with happy conscious- 
 ness an Irishman may assert, that there is plenty of subject 
 afforded by Irish character and Irish hfe honorable to the 
 land, pleasing to the narrator, and sufficiently attractive to 
 the reader, without the unwholesome exaggerations of 
 crime which too often disfigure the fictions which pass 
 under the title of *' Irish," alike offensive to truth as to 
 taste — alike injurious both for private and public consider- 
 ations. 
 
 * * * * * 4i * 
 
 It was in the following autumn that a particular chariot 
 drove up to the door of the Victoria Hotel, on the shore of 
 Killamey lake. A young man of elegant bearing handed 
 a very cliarmiug jouug ladj from the chariot; and that
 
 HANDY ANDY. ^Sii 
 
 kindest and mcst accommodating of hostesses, Mrs. F , 
 
 welcomed the fresh arrival with her good-humored and 
 jmiling face. 
 
 Why, amidst the crowd of arrivals at the Victoria, one 
 chariot should be remarkable beyond another, arose from 
 its quiet elegance, which might strike even a casual ob- 
 server; but the intelligent Mrs. F saw with half an eye 
 
 the owners must be high-bred people. To the apartments 
 already engaged for them they were shown; but few min- 
 utes were lost within doors where such matchless natural 
 beauty tempted them without. A boat was immediately 
 ordered, and then the newly arrived visitors were soon on 
 the lake. The boatmen had already worked hard that day, 
 having pulled one party completely round the lakes — no 
 trifling task: but the hardy fellows again bent to their oars, 
 and made the sleeping w^aters wake in golden flashes to the 
 sunset, till told they need not pull so hard. 
 
 *' Faith, then, -we'll plnze you, sir," said the stroke-oars- 
 man, with a grin, " for we have had quite enough of it to- 
 day. " 
 
 " Do you not think, Fanny,'* said Edward O'Connor, 
 for it was he who spoke to his bride, " do you not think 
 'tis more in unison with the tranquil hour and the coming 
 shadows, to glide softly over the lulled waters?" 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " it seems almost sacrilege to dis- 
 turb this heavenly repose by the slightest dip of the oar — 
 see how perfectly that lovely island is reflected. " 
 
 " That is Innisf alien, my lady," said the boatman, hear- 
 ing her allude to the island, "where the hermitage is." 
 As he spoke, a gleam of light sparkled on the island, which 
 was reflected on the water. 
 
 " One might think the hermit was there too," said 
 Fanny, " and had just Hghted a lamp for his vigils." 
 
 *' That's the light of the guide that shows the place to 
 the quality, my lady, and lives on the island always in a 
 comer of the ould ruin. And, indeed, if you'd like to see 
 the island this evening, there's time enough, and 'twould 
 be so much saved out of to-morrow. ' ' 
 
 The boatman's advice was acted upon, and as they glid- 
 ed toward the island, Fanny and Edward gazed delightedly 
 on the towering summits of Magillicuddy's reeks, whose 
 spiral pinnacles and graceful declivities told out sharply 
 against the golden sky behind them, which, being perfect^
 
 484 HANDY ANDY, 
 
 reflected in the calm lake, gave a grand chain of mountain 
 the appearance of being suspended in glowing heather, for 
 the lake was one bright amber sheet of light below, and 
 the mountains one massive barrier of shade, till they cnt 
 against the light above. The boat touched the shore of 
 Innisfallen, and the delighted pair of visitants hurried to its 
 western point to catch the sunset, lighting with its glory 
 the matchless foliage of this enchanting spot, where every 
 form of grace exhaustless nature can display is lavished on 
 the arborial richness of the scene, which, in its uuequaled 
 luxuriance, gives to a fanciful beholder the idea that the 
 trees themselves have a conscious pleasure in growing there. 
 Oh ! what a witching spot is Innisfallen ! 
 
 Edward had never seen anything so beautiful in his life; 
 and with the woman he adored resting on his arm, he 
 quoted the lines which Moore has applied to the Vale of 
 Cashmere, as he asked Fanny would she not like to live 
 there, 
 
 " Would you?^' said Fanny. 
 
 Edward answered — 
 
 " If woman can make the worst wilderness dear. 
 Think — think what a heaven she must make of Cashmere.** 
 
 They lingered on the island till the moon arose, and then 
 re-embarked. The silvery light exhibited the lake under 
 another aspect, and the dimly discovered forms of the lofty 
 hills rose one above another, tier upon tier circling the 
 waters in their shadowy frame, the beauty of the scene 
 reached a point of sublimity which might be called holy. 
 As they returned toward the shelving strand^ a long row of 
 peeled branches, standing upright in the water, attracted 
 Fanny's attention, and she asked their use. 
 
 " AH the use in life, my lady,'' said the boatman, "'• for 
 without the same branches, may be it's not home to-night 
 you'd get. " 
 
 On Fanny inquiring further the meaning of the boat- 
 man's answer, she learned that the sticks were placed there 
 to indicate the only channel which permitted a boat to ap- 
 proach the shore on that side of the lake, where the water 
 was shoal, while in other parts the depth had never been 
 fathomed. 
 
 An early excursion on the water was planned for the 
 morning, aad Jkiward and Faimy were wakened from theil
 
 HAJTDY AXDT. 485 
 
 slumbers by the tones of the bugle; a soft Irish melody 
 being breathed by Spillan, followed by a more sportive one 
 from the other minstrel of the lake, Ganzy. 
 
 The lake now appeared under another aspect — the morn- 
 ing sun and morning breeze were upon it, and the sublim- 
 ity with which the shades of evening had invested the 
 monntaius was changed to that of the most varied richness; 
 for Autumn hung out his gaudy banner on the lofty hills, 
 crowned to their summits with all variety of wood, which, 
 though tinged by the declining year, had scarcely shed one 
 leafy honor. The day was glorious, and the favoring 
 breeze enabled the boat to career across the sparkling lake 
 under canvas, till the overhanging hills of the opposite side 
 robbed them of their aerial wings, and the sail being 
 struck, the boatmen bent to their oars. As they passed 
 under a promontory, clothed from the water^s edge to its 
 topmost ridge with the most luxuriant vegetation, it was 
 pointed out to the lady as *' the minister's back.'' 
 
 " 'Tis a strange name," said Fanny. " Do you know 
 why it is called so?" 
 
 " JFaix, I dunna, my lady — barrin' that it is the best 
 covered back in the country. But here we come to the 
 aichos," said he, resting on his oars. The example was 
 followed by his fellows, and the bugler, lifting his instru- 
 ment to liis lips, gave one long well-sustained blast. It 
 rang across the waters gallantly. It returned in a few sec- 
 onds with such unearthly sweetness, as though the spirit of 
 the departed sound had become heavenly, and revisited the 
 place where it had expired. 
 
 Fanny and Edward listened breathlessly. 
 
 The bugle gave its notes again in the well-known *' call," 
 and as sweetly as before the notes were returned distinctlv. 
 
 And now a soft and slow and simple melody stole from 
 the exquisitely played bugle, and phrase after phrase was 
 echoed from the responding liills. How many an emotion 
 stirred within Edward's breast, as the melting music fell 
 upon his ear! In the midst of matchless beauties he heard 
 the matchless strains of his native land, and the echoes of 
 her old hills responding to the triumphs of her old bards. 
 The air, too, bore with it historic associations; it told a 
 ttile of wrong and of suffering. The wrong has ceased, the 
 suffering is past, but the air which records them still lives. 
 
 " Oh! triumph of the minstrel!" exclaimed Edward in
 
 486 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 delight. " The tyrant crumbles in his coffin, while tho 
 song of the bard survives! The memory of a sceptered 
 ruffian is endlessly branded by a simple strain, while many 
 of the elaborate chronicles of his evil life have passed away 
 and are moldering like himself. 
 
 Scarcely had the echoes of this exquisite air died away, 
 when the entraneement it carried was rudely broken by 
 one of the vulgarest tanes being brayed from a bugle in a 
 boat which was seen rounding the headland of the wooded 
 l)romontory. 
 
 Edward and Fanny writhed, and put their hands to their 
 ears. " Give way, boys!'' said Edward; "for pity's sake 
 get away from these barbarians. Give way!" 
 
 Away sprung the boat, '^Fo the boatman's inquiry 
 whether they should stop at " Lady Kenmare's Cottage,'* 
 Fanny said " no," when she found on inquiry it was a par- 
 ticularly " show-place," being certain the vulgar party fol- 
 lowing would stop there, and therefore time might be 
 gained in getting away from such disagreeable followers. 
 
 Dinas Island, fringed with its lovely woods, excited their 
 admiration, as they passed underneath its shadows, and 
 turned into Turk Lake; here the labyi'inthine nature of the 
 channels through which they had been winding was 
 changed for a circular expanse of water, over which the 
 lofty mountain, whence it takes its name, towers in all its 
 wild beauty of wood, and rock, and heath. 
 
 At a certain part of the lake, the boatmen, without any 
 visible cause, rested on their oars. On Edward asking 
 them why they did not pull, he received this touching an- 
 swer: — 
 
 " Sure, your honor would not have us disturb Ned 
 Macarthy's grave!" 
 
 " Then a boatman was drowned here, I suppose?" said 
 Edward. 
 
 *' Yes, your honor." The boatman then told how the 
 accident occurred "' one day when there was a stag-hunt on 
 the lake;" but as the anecdote struck Edward so forcibly 
 that he afterward recorded it in verse, we will give the 
 story after his fashion. 
 
 MACARTHY'S GRAVE. 
 I. 
 
 The breeze was fresh, the moon was faiy, 
 Tlj<5 §iag bad leCt his 4ewy Xm;
 
 HANDY AJiTDY. 487 
 
 To cheerins; horn and baying tongue, 
 Killarney's echoes sweetly rung. 
 With sweeping oar and bending maat. 
 The eager cliase was following fast ; 
 When one light skiff a maiden steer'd 
 Beneath the deep wave disappearM-. 
 Wild shouts of terror widely ring, 
 A boatman brave, with gallant spring 
 And dauntless arm, the lady bore; 
 But he who saved— was seen no morel 
 
 II. 
 
 Where weeping birches wildly wave. 
 There boatmen show their brother's gravej 
 And while they tell the name he bore, 
 Suspended hangs the lifted oar; 
 The silent drops they idly shed 
 Seem like tears to gallant Ned; 
 And while gently gliding by, 
 The tale is told with moisteu'd eye. 
 No ripple on the slumb'riiig lake 
 Unhallow'd oar doth ever make; 
 All undisturb'd the placid wave 
 Flows gently o'er Macarthy's grave. 
 
 Windiug backward through the channels which lead the 
 explorers of this scene of nature's enchantment from the 
 lower to the upper lake, the surpassing beauty of the 
 " Eagle's tiest " burst on their view; and as they hovered 
 tmder its stupendous crags, clustering with all variety of 
 verdure, the bugle and the cannon awoke the almost end- 
 less reverberation of sound which is engendered here. 
 Passing onward, a sudden change is wrought; the soft 
 beauty melts gradually away, and the scene hardens into 
 frowning rocks and steep acclivities, making a befitting 
 vestibule to the bold and bleak precipices of " The Eeeks," 
 which form the western barrier of this upper lake, whose 
 savage grandeur is rendered more striking by the scenes of 
 fairy-like beauty left behind. But even here, in the midst 
 of the mightiest desolation, the vegetative vigor of the 
 numerous islands proves the wondrous productiveness of 
 the soil in these regions. On their return, a great commo- 
 tion was observable as they approached the rapids formed 
 by the descending waters of the upper lake to the lower, 
 and they were hailed and warned by some of the peasants 
 from the shore that they must not attempt the rapids at 
 present, as a boat, which had just been upset, lay athwart
 
 488 HAKDT AKDY. 
 
 the passage. On hearing this, Edward and Fanny landed 
 upon the falls, and walked toward the old bridge, where all 
 was bnstle and confusion, as the dripping passengers were 
 dragged safely to shore from tlie capsized boat, which had 
 been upset by tiie principal gentleman of the party, whose 
 vulgar truni{)etings had so disturbed the delight of Edward 
 and Fanny, who soon i-ecognized the renowned Andy as the 
 instigator of tlie bad music and the cause of the accident. 
 Yes, Lord Scatterbrain, true to his original practice, was 
 author of all. 
 
 Nevertheless, he and his party, soused over head and 
 ears as they were, took the thing in good humor, which 
 was unbroken even by the irrepressible laughter which es- 
 caped fi'om Edward and Fanny, as they approached and 
 kindly otfered assistance. An immediate removal to the 
 neigliboring cottage on Dinas Island was recommended, 
 particularly as Lady Scatterbrain was in a delicate situa- 
 tion,, as well, indeed, as Mrs. Durfy, who, with her deai 
 Tom, had joined Lord Scatterbrain 's party of pleasure. 
 
 On reaching the cottage, sufficient change of clothes was 
 obtained to prevent evil consequences from the ducking. 
 This, under oidinary circumstances, might not have been 
 easy for so many; but, fortunately. Lord Scatterbrain had 
 ordered a complete diimer ivum the hotel to be served in 
 the cottage, and some of the assistants from the Victoria, 
 who were necessarily present, helped to dress more than 
 the dinner. What between c-'iok-maids and waiters, the 
 care-taker of the cottage and the boatman, bodies and 
 skirts, jackets and otlier conveniences, enabled the party 
 to sit down to dinner in company, until fire could mend 
 the mistake of his lordship. Edward and Fanny courteously 
 joined the party; and the honor of their company was sensi- 
 bly felt by Andy and Oonah, who would have borne a duck- 
 ing a day for the honor of having Fanny and Edward as 
 their guests. Oonah was by nature a nice creature, and 
 adapted herself to her elevated position with a modest ease 
 that was surprising. Even Andy was by this time able to 
 conduct himself tolerably well at table — only on that par- 
 ticular day he did make a mistake; for when salmon 
 (which is served at Killarney in all sorts of variety) made 
 its appearance for the first time in the novel form '* e^i 
 popillote," Andy ate paper and all. He refused a second 
 cutlet, however, saying he '* thought the skin tough. " The
 
 HAKDT AXDT. 489 
 
 party, however, passed off mirthfully, the ver}' accident 
 helping the fun; for, instead of any one being called b}' 
 name, the "lady in the jacket," or the " gentleman in 
 the bed-gown,'" were the terms of address; and, after a 
 merrily spent evening, the beds of the Victoria gave sleep 
 and pleasing dreams to the sojourners of Killarney. 
 
 Kind reader! the shortening space we have prescribed to 
 our volume warns us we must draw our storv to an end. 
 Nine months after this Killarney excursion. Lord Scatter- 
 brain met Dick Dawson near Mount Eskar, where Lord 
 Scatterbrain had ridden to make certain incjuiries about 
 Mrs. O'Connor's health. Dick wore a smiling counte- 
 nance, and to Andy's inquiry answered, " All right, and 
 doing as well as can be expected." 
 
 Lord Scatterbrain, wishing to know whether it was a boy 
 or a girl, made the inquiry in the true spirit of Andyism 
 — " Tell me, Misther Dawson, are you an uncle or an 
 aunt 9" 
 
 Andy's mother died soon after of the cold caught by her 
 ducking. On her death-bed she called Oonah to her, and 
 said, *' I leave you this quilt, ahtnna — 'tis worth more than 
 it appears. The hundred-pound notes Andy gave me I 
 quilted into the lining, so that if I lived poor all my life 
 till lately, I died under a quilt of bank-notes, anyhow/' 
 
 Uncle Bob was gathered to his fathers also, and left the 
 bulk of his property to Augusta, so that Furlong had to 
 regret his contemi:)tible conduct in rejecting her hand. 
 Augusta indulged in a spite to all mankind for the future, 
 enjoying lier dogs and her independence, and defjnng 
 Hymen and hydrophobia for the rest of her life. 
 
 Gusty went on profiting by the early care of Edward 
 O'Connor, whose friendship was ever his dearest possession; 
 and IJatty, always wild, expressed a desire for leading a 
 life of enterprise. As they are both " Irish heirs," as well 
 as Lord Scatterbain, and heirs under very different circum- 
 stances, it is not improbable that in our future " accounts " 
 something may yet be heard of them, and the grateful 
 author once more meet his kind readers. 
 
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