S^X' i::-# Z O Z 1 J * / J y^ M^t / 'ii / 0^/ / 1/ / n 10 THE ZOZIMUS PAPEES. A SEBIES or COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL STORIES AND LEGENDS, BSINa THB EDITED, UNEDITED AND PILFERED WOBKS OF MICHAEL MORAl^, THE BLIND STORY-TELLER OF DUBLIN. NEW YORK: P. J. KENEDY, EXCELSIOR CATHOLIC PUBLISHING HOUSE, 5 BARCLAY STREET. 1889. Copyrighted, 1880, By P. J. KENEDY. SRLF YRL 0£> mfr^r-g-^ PREFACE. The following humorous and pathetic tales and stories require no recommendation to those who relisk innocent and amusing reading. Though all are at- tributed to the late lamented Zoziiaus, who once made the streets of Dublin vocal with his epigrams and im- promptu ballads, it is but candid to say that many of them cannot be traced directly to his authorship, and several of the best, we are aware, were written in the first instance for a weekly journal. However, they are all, without exception, true pictures of Irish life, as it once appeared, nothing being extenuated or set down in malice, and as such we ask for thero the kind consideration ol the reader. COI^TEKTS. Pacs. The"Zozimus" Papers 7 The Prophecy Man 16 The Desj;rter 27 The Matchmaker ^ . 33 The Ghost 42 An Irish Picnic 51 The Irish Parliament and the Turk. 69 Bothering an Editor 77 A Fenian Tale 84 Handy Andy's Little Mistakes 97 Puss IN Brogues 106 The Wise Simpleton 116 Peggy the Pishogue 127 An Irish Dancing-Master 137 A Dance at Pat Malone's 146 Mike Driscoll and the Fairies 161 Tom Kearney i3i Paddy Corbett's First Smuggling Trip 152 Hannaberry the Piper o ..... . ... 206 The Irish Fiddler • • • 214 Barney O'Grady 222 Oroh jo. the Fairy Man 227 Vi CONTENTS. Pagb. A Tale of Other Days 237 What Mr. Maguire Saw in the Kitchen 245 The Will 257 Serving a Writ 262 The Gauger Outwitted 266 The Irish Midwife 279 The Will o' the Wisp 304 The Flower of the Wki l 309 THE "ZOZIMUS" PAPERS.. From the creation of the human race (we may as well begin at the beginning) even unto our own degenerate days, the Unknown Great have formed a very large portion of mankind. How many poets and philosophers sang songs and split syllogistic hairs when the unhappy Cain was building cities by the Euphrates, or the mighty hunter, Nimrod, was developing his young muscle in the sports of the field, it is of course impossible to say, that greatest of all water-cures, the Deluge, has literally washed out every record of their existence. No doubt there were rhymsters and bards without number to lighten the fruitless labor of the builders of the brick tower of Babel, but the calamity that befell those enterprising free-masons and hod-carriers could not have been without its deleterious effect on the children of the muses. What that effect must have been is too painful for contemplation. Imagine a few score of ambitious poetasters, each bawling out at the top of his voice his favorite composition in a strange tongue, unknown to any of his hearers or rival songsters ! This, indeed, would be confusion worse confounded. Then we find matters little mended when we come down to comparatively modem times — that is, the ten or eleven centuries before our era. Where, let us ask, are all the great men who hood- winked and blamied the Pharos of Egypt ; or those who sat on the sunny sides of the gorgeous palaces and temples of Kineveh and Babylon, surrounded by admiring crowds of princes and cour- tiers ? WTiat has become of all the men who made Greece and 8 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. her colonies on the borders of the Mediten-anean the nurseries ■ of learning, and the fayorite summer watering-place of the Nine Muses ? Are even their names known to the great majority of enlightened American citizens; or is their knowledge, like the language of the sacred Vedas of India, confined to the occult few, the professors of New England colleges and the hedge-school masters of the remote Kingdom of Kerry ? One name, indeed, has been rescued from oblivion, and if life is preserved to us, we intend to pull to the surface another genius by the drowned locks. Indeed, those two characters, Homer and Moran, had many points in common: both were blind, and both sang their ballads in the public streets for a scanty subsistence, while each in his own way had, during life, to suffer contumely and injustice. Fortunately for the "blind bard of Scio," Lycur- gus, the communist of Sparta and the inventor cf broth, in his rambles through Asia Minor, a long time after the poet had been carried over the Styx, heard the Homeric ballads sang in the streets, and giving an order to the nearest dealer in papyrus, had them stenographed and arranged in sequence for the delectation of his rather savage subjects. Then, and not till then, did "Seven cities claim the poet Homer dead. Through which the living Homer begged his bread." To our humble selves falls the onerous but pleasing task of imitating the example of the Spartan loiler, but though we have no claim to that eminent strict constructionist's ability or influence, we have the advantage not only of having heard our hero's ballads sung in the streets of Dublin, in Crampton Court and Jude's Cafi; aye, and even within the classic walls of old Trinity and at the fancy dres? balls of the Rotundo, by successful imitators of the great original; but in our callow youth we enjoyed the friend- ship of the venerable and gifted man. This latter fact enables us to do for Moran what all the biographers and antiquarians in the universe have failed to do for his Greek prototype. We can fix precisely the place and time of his birth, as well as the exact THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. 9 scene of his labors. No seven cities shall, if we can prevent it, wrangle in fruitless rivalry over his birth-place. Himself and all his fame belongs to Dublin, and in the language of a late distin- guished Irish advocate, he was, in more than one sense, ' ' racy of its soil." In that fair city celebrated for its Lord Lieutenants and •' Lady Lieutenants," its Lions and Unicorns, big policemen and small shopkeepers, jdc/jjc'/is a.ndjo/u-rs, in the year 1S40, at Faddle Alley, offBl.ack Pitts, in the Liberties, (we are particular as to the place, for we have no doubt as civilization advances pilgrims by the thousands will throng to gaze and affectionately contemplate the humble and sequestered spot, if the ruthless hand of time spares it so long), the future imf'rcK'visatore first saw tJie light. Alas ! twas indeed but a short gleam of celestial sunshine*hat illuminated the windows of the soul of the infant phenomenon. Sickness, that ever haunts the steps of mortn.ls from the cradle to the grave, makes no exception of genius, and w hen yet two weeks old, those eyes that might have rolled with divine phrcnzy be- came forever sightless. Nature, doubtless, when viewing her perfect handiwork, became jealous of the child, and resolved by this infliction to mar his gieat mental qualities by physical disa- bility. Still when we are deprived of one sense, an increased development of another is generally noticed; and so with Zozi- mus, for so acute was his hearing and his sense of feeling so deli- cate, that he easily recognized a mere acquaintance by the sound of his voice, and could perambulate the intricate lanes and streets of the "Liberties" without the guidance of dog or urchin. We remember one exception to this wonderful gift of inhabitiveness. On a certain very stormy night, as Mr. (now Sir John) Gray, of the Dublin Freemait's Jo:irnal, was about to cross Essex bridge on his way to the office, he heard through the darkness and the rain a plaintive voice saying : " Is there any good Christian here that v/ould lead a poor blind man over the bridge ?" "Yes," said the kind-hearted editor, "talce my hand and I shall bring you across." lO THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. •' Thank you, gentle sir," said the poet, as he placed his hand within that of his obliging conductor. When they had crossed the Liffey to the north side, Mr. Gray stopped and inquired with well assumed gravity: '• Now, Zozimus, why is it you are always so hard on us Protestants? Here am I a heretic, who have taken you safely over the bridge when none of your faith was near to assist you, and yet you say many harsh things against us." " Sir !" replied the venerable bard, raising up his sightless eyes towards where he supposed heaven might be, in an act of blind devotion, as it were — " Sir ! do you not know that we must sometimes, for their own good, pander to the prejudices of an unenlightened public ?" WTiat a blending of humility and wisdom is found in this short answer ! We look in vain in the much-lauded pages of Socrates and Plato, of Cicero and Seneca, for anything so replete in sagacity and knowledge of human nature. It furnishes also a key to his system of public instruction, and an explanation of why one so gifted should have preferred the vernacular of Thomas Street and the Coombc to that of more classical English in most of his compositions. Born at a time when the Irish people were sunk in ignorance, he found out as he grew up tliat they had many of the weaknesses and harmless pn-judlces which grow out of long years of servitude, so when lie had a sound moral to coji- vey or a patriotic sentiment to advance, he made use of these very defects of character to instruct his auditors; and, unlike many modem orators, he was able to impart to them wholesome truths in language they could all understand. What can l)e more true to nature as well as to fact than the fol- lowing ballad composed and sung by the peripatetic bard soon after the celebrated discussion between Rev. Father Thomas Maguire, P.P. of Ballinamore, and Rev. T. D. Gregg, of the Protestant establishment, during which the latter got signally defeated ? THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. II MAGUIRE'S TRIUMPH. " All you that profess to that ancient religion. Can boast its foundation from virtue and truth, Maguire's the champion can trace its origin, With any false preacher he's fit to dispute; The Swifts-ally spouter he's bothered completely, The fountain of rancor has leveled him low. The victory's our own, we'll rejoice late and early, That Maguire may conquer wherever he'll go. " From the sweet county Leitrim to famed Dublin city True Catholic doctrine he came to defend, Those misguided heretics, boys can you pity, When to his decisions they were forced to bend; Their bible cant-tract, was no more but a folly, The master of arts on his dunghill may crow. And fly to the ' Trinity ' pack for protection, That Maguire may conquer wherever he'll go. " Each Catholic heart round the green fields of Erin Shall nobly re-echo the shamrock shore. Representing the joys of our holy religion. From sweet Dublin city to Ballinamore; The Tories like dogs may fly to their kennels, The foul seed of discord no longer tliey'U sow. Let us quarrel no more, but stand firm to each other — Father Tom, may you conquer wherever you go. •' This scheme was contrived by the bigoted faction, The minds of the people they mean to excite. For their own selfish ends to drive man to distraction, To keep ancient Erin from her lawful right; But the Catholic Church is triumphant, thank heaven. All tempests and dangers she'll still overthrow, The la.TL dying blow to heresy's given^ Maguire, may you conquer wherever you go. "Acclamations of joy through our church is spreading. From the seat of Armagh to St. Peter's in Rome, The call of assassins no more we'll be dreading. The Catholic Church has commenced in its bloom; For the want of sound proofs Tory Gregg you defeated. The rank seed of Harry is confounded, you know, One heaven, one sheepfold by heaven elevated. That Man:uire may conquer wlierever he'll go. 12 THE ZOZIMUS PAPFRS. " The Catholic clergy may stand on their altars, And challenge the bjst their foes can produce, For the minds of ihi p:ople can never be altered; Poor Gregg, your false doctrine is of but htlle use; Your name, Father To.n, will be ever enduring. Of the infernal proud Satan you have made a show; Green laurels shall bloom round the chapels of Erin, That Maguire may conquer wherever he'll go. "With joy we'll conclude by the victory proclaiming, And toast to Victoria our beautiful queen, While our kind Lord Lieutenant displays equal justice, May ire i-eign triumphant in our land of green; That the blest Church of Rome may extend through the iVcn'ld ; As we push round the glass with tliree cheers let it flow, To the health of the matchless, unrivaled Maguire, May he live long and conquer wherever he'll go." We admit our inability to understand the logic or appreciate the sentiment of the last verse. What* connection could exist between the welfare of " our beautiful queen" and the "equ;;! justice " of the " kind Lord Lieutenant," and the spread of the doctrines of the Church, must remain to us a conundrani. It may be that at the time the poem was given to the public (183S) there had been a fresh stimulus imparted to Dublin loyalty by an increased order for castle livery of "native manufacture;" or that the author, apprehensive of the interference of the jxilicc with his chants in praise of the champion of the people, threw in the last few lines as a propitiatory sacrifice to the MoUoch of the Castle. Future critics must resolve this delicate enigma; for ourselves, we give it up. The great Moran was born of poor hut honest parents, a method of description not very original, but much affected by certain biographers, who think it a strange, nay, wonderful coincidence, that a man's parents may have been poor and yet honest. How- ever, it was a fact in the case of our poet, well known to the pub- lic, and, very probably, often inconveniently felt l.'y himself. We wish, for the sake of posterity, that our data regarding his early THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. I3 habits and education were as authentic, for, as a brother poet hath it, ' ' Lives of poets all remind us We can write dimnation fine, Leaving still unsolved behind us Query : How are bards to dine ?" What interesting reminiscences must have clustered round his infancy and adolescence, that now can only be left to the imag- ination ! What mud pies he made in the propitious precincts of Faddle Alley ! and what spankings he must have received from the maternal brogue ! Would tliat some authentic record had been preserved in the library of the " Silent Sister," or in the Royal Irish Academy, which would tell us of the first dawnings of the genius that was destined not only to astonish his fellow- citizens, but to edify and instruct the whole world — for to what place has his fame not extended ? How he listened enraptured to the reading of the good and great bishop of Raphoe's account of Mary of Egypt, and drank in, as eager as the arid sands of the desert do tlie passing shower, the beautiful and patriotic senti- ments of "Come, all ye ancient Britons," "In the year '98," "The Banshee Peelers," and other gems of rustic verse. But, unfortunately, every incident of his life save the mere fact of his entrance into this sublunary sphere, has been forgotten, or sup- pressed by those who envied his ability without being able to ap- proach it.; and we know little of him till he emerged into public life and the streets of Dublin a full-fledged author, composer and musical artist, arrayed in a dress consisting of a long-tailed coat, closely buttoned over the chest (as if to conceal the absence of a shirt), with a cape — the lower parts of the skirts being scalloped like the edge of a monstrous saw, which but allowed the ioex- pressibles to be revealed. His extremities were encased in a pair of strong brogues, and the ioi/f ensemble was crowned by a soft, f reasy hat, that lud protected the noble head of the venerable man in all weathers for many a year. Ills only companion, his only weapon of defense and offense — -his staff and truncheon — was a long blackthorn stick, which was attached to his wrist by 14 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. a stout leathern thong, lest, perchance, some profane urchin might snatch it out of his grasp, and leave him open to assault in front and rear. Thus habited and equipped, he would take his stand on Essex bridge, or in some other thoroughfare, where his appearance never failed to collect a crowd of admirers and patrons. Then a dia- logue something like the following would ensue between the bard and his audience: Zoz. " Gather 'round me, boys; gather 'round me. Well, yez all know St. Patrick was bom in Bull Alley, ave he wasn't in France." Female Listener {loqmtor). "Oh, Kitty Gogarty, glory ba to goodness, did you ever hear the like of that afore ? Why, he must be a great book-larned man !" Scamps {in full chorus). "More power, Zozimus, yer the rale hart ave the rowl;" " Tip huz the T. B. C. ;" " There's no damp on the taypot;" "That ye may never die," etc., etc. It may be well to explain here that the cabalistic letters were the initials of Attomey-Cieneral Smith, one of the Crown prosecu- tors on the trial of O'Connell and six other prominent repealers in 1843. As the result of that inquisition, the imprisonment of the "martyrs," fired the soul of the poet with just indignation; so their liV)cration, after three months' confinement, called forth some of the noblest strains of the gifted son of song. The first, which is the most valual)le on account of its historical and bio- graphical references, ran as follows: Ye boys of old Hiljernia, attend imto me. Whilst I give you the story of young T. B. C. Unlike his father, who stood by Father Maguire, He prosecuted O'Connell, with sjiile like hell-fire. With him were first-named Fathci-s Tiemay and Tyrrell, But were soon '^et aside as leading lo peril, Tom .Steele, Ricliard Barrett, Gavan Duffy and Gray, With John O'Connell and our "doar T. M. Ray." A jury was formed of the right sort. Who had the right feeling when called into court, And soon pure witnesses were easily found To keep the right side -the Royal ground. THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. 15 Then the learned judge made home his bold charge Against brave O'Connell and his six at large, Who to Richmond prison were suddenly sent, Wlaere some months of confinement they soberly spent. But when the Writ of Error (with all its records) Was fully brought up before the House of Lords, The noble answer was just, rich and rare, The trial was a "mockery, delusion and snare;" So then the imprisoned were set fully free, To the glory and joy of our old countrie; At least half a million in union did meet, And had a procession in every street. It may easily be imagined the effect such a plain, simple, yet forcible ballad like the above, when sung by so skilled a rhetori- cian as our hero, would have on an intellectual Dublin audience, which is popularly supposed, at least by the good people of that provincial city, to be the most critical of any in Europe, particu- larly in musical matters. 1 5 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. THE IRISH PROPHECY MAN. BY WILLIAM CARLETON'. [The warm imagination and playful faiicy of the poet were not confined within any limits, and in reciting his stories he wan- dered from "grave to gay" with the freedom peculiar to his calling, as well as characteristic of the man. His mind was a storehouse of legendary lore from which he could draw at will a tale to suit tlie taste of his audience. Thus a. one time he would delight his hearers with a description of Donnybrook, given in his own unique way, with all the graces of delivery and action which enhanced so much the value of his lucubrations; at an- other he would describe a national character witli such fidelity to nature and acuteness of observation, as would lead one to imagine that this was his peculiar yir/c'. "The Irish Prophecy Man " was a favorite theme with tlie tdfted poet, and when seated by a cheerful fire and in the company of congenial spirit.-), he de- livered it with a ring and g:tst(? that must forever remain inimi- table. This, like many of his other creations, was gracelessly purloined, and, clothed in a new dress, appeared in the columns of a Uublia magazine- Ah, me 3 how much must it have lost in symmetry in its transfjrmation. In the absence of the inimitable version as tol-i by Zozimus, we must present it in the shape which it has assumed mider the hand of William Carleton.] The individual t ) whom the heading of this article is uniform- ly applied, stands among the lower classes oi his countrymen in THE IRISH PROPHECY MAX. IJ a different light and position from any of tliose previous charac- ters that we have already described to our readers. Tlie inter- course which i/iry maintain with the pe«^le is one that simply involves the means of procuring subsistence for theinselvesby the exercise of their professional skill, and tlieir jjoweis of coa^tributing to the lighter enjoynaenits and mcHre hannless amusements of their fellow-coantrymen. All the collateral influences they possess, as arising from the hold which the peculiar nature of this inter- course gives them, generally affect individuals only on those minor points of feeling that act upon the lighter phases of domes- tic life. They bring little to society beycMid the mere accessories that are appended to the general modes of life and manners, and consequently receive then^selves as strcag an impress from those with whom they mingle, as they communicate to them in return. Now, the Prophecy Man presents a cliaiucter far different from all this. With the ordinary habits of life he has little sympathy. The amusements of the people are to hinj little less tlian vanity, if not something worse. He despises that class of men who live and think only for the presei>t, without ever ouce performing their duties to posterity, by looking into those great events that lie in the womb of futui-ity. Domestic joys or distresses do not in the least affect him, because the man has not to do witli feelings or emoticHis, bat with principles. The speculations in wliich he in- dulges, and by which his whole life and conduct are regulated, place him far above the usual impulses of humanity. He cares not much who has been married or who has died, for his mind is, in point of tinie, conmitining with unborn generations upon af- fairs of high and solemn import. The past, indeed, is to him sometliing, the future everything; but the present, unless when marked by the prophetic symbols, little or notliing. The topics of his conversation are vast and mighty, bjing nothing less than the fate of kingdoms, the revolution of empires, the ruin or estab- lishment of creeds, the fall of moaarclis, or the rise and prostra- tion of principalities and powers. How can a mind thus engaged descend to those petty subjects of ordinary life which engage the common attention ? How could a roan hard at work in evolving 1 8 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. out of prophecy the subjugation of some hostile state care a far- tiiing whether Loghliu Roe's daughter was married to Gusty Given 's son, or not? The thing is impossible. Like fame, the head of tlie Prophecy Man is always in the clouds, but so much higher up as to be utterly above the reacb of any intelligence that does not affect the fate of nations. There is an old anecdote told of a very high and a very low man meeting. " What news down there ?" Slid the tall fellow. "Very little," replied the other: " what kind of weather have you above?" Well indeed might the Propliecy Man ask what news there is below, for his mind seldom leaves those aerial heights from which it watches the fate of Europe and the shadowing forth of future changes. The Prophecy Man — that is, he who solely devotes himself to an anxious observation of those political occurrences which mark the signs of the times, as they bear upon the future, the principal business of whose life it is to associate them with his own pro- phetic theories —is now a rare character in Ireland. He was, how- ever, a very niarked one. The Shanahus and other itinerant characters had, when compared with him, a very limited beat indeed. Instead of being confined to a parish or a barony, the bounds of the Propliecy Man's travels were those of the kingdom itself ; and indeed some of them have bzen known to make excur- sions to the Highlands of Scotland, in order, if possible, to pick up old prophecies, and to make themselves, by cultivating an in- timacy with the Scottish seers, capable of getting a clearer io- sight into futurity, and surer rules for developing the latent secrets of time- One of the heaviest blows to the speculations of this class was the downfall and death of Bonaparte, especially the latter. There are still living, however, those who can get over this diffi- culty, and who will not hesitate to assure you, with a look of much mystery, that the real " Bonyparty " is alive and well, and will make his due appearance m/ien the lirm comes; he who sur- rendered himself to the English being but an accomplice of Uie true one. The next fact, and which I have alluded to in treating of the THE IRI£K PROPHECY MAN. 1 9 Shanahus, is the failure of the old prophecy that a George the Fourth would never sit on the thi-one of England. His corona- tion and reign, however, puzzled our prophets sadly, and indeed sent adrift forever the pretensians of this prophecy to truth. Having thus, as is our usual custom, given what we conceive to be such preliminary obsei-vations as are necessaiy to make both the subject and tlie person more easily understood, we shall pro- ceed to give a short sketch of the only Prophecy Man we ever saw who deserved properly to be called so, in the full and unrestricted sense of the term. This individual's name was Barney M'Haig- hery, but in what part of Ireland he was bom I am not able to inform the reader. All I knoMr is, that he was spoken of on every occasion a J The Prophecy Man; and that, although he could not himself read, he carried about with him, in a variety of pockets, several old books and manuscripts that treated upon his favorite subject. Barney was a tall man, l^y no means meanly dressed; and it is necessary to say that hi came not within the character or condi- tion of a mendicant. On the contrary, he was considered as a person who must be received with respect, for the people knew perfectly well that it was not with every farmer in the neighbor- hood he would condescend to sojourn. He had nothing of the ascetic and abstracted meagreness of the prophet in his appear- ance. So far from that, he was inclined to corpulency; but, like a certain class of fat men, his natural disposition was calm, but at the same time not unmixed with something of the pensive. His habits of thinking, as might be expected, were quiet and meditative; his person:;l motions slow and regular; and his tran- sitions from one resting-place to another never of such length during a single day as to exceed ten miles. At this easy rate, however, he traversed the whole kingdom several times; nor was there probably a local prophecy of any importance in the coun- try, with which he was not acquainted. He took much delight in the greater and lesser prophets of the Old Testament; but his heart and soul lay, as he expressed it, " in the Revelations of St. John the Divine." 20 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. His usual practice was, when the family came home at night from Iheir labor, to stretch himself upon two chairs, bis head resting upon the hob, with a boss for a pillow, his eyes closed, as a proof that his mind was deeply engaged with the matter in hand. In this attitude he got some one to read the particular pro- phecy upon which he wished to descant; and a most curious and amusing entertainment it generally was to hear the text, and his own singular and original commentaries upon it. That he must have been often hoaxed by wags and wits, was quite evident from the startling travesties of the text which had been put into his mouth, and which, having been once put there, his tenacious memory never forgot. The fact of Barney's arrival in the neighborhood soon went abroad, and the natural consequence was, that the house in which he thought proper to reside for the time became crowded every night as soon as the hours of labor had passed, and the people got leisure to hear him. Having thus procured him an audience, it is full time that we should allow the fat old Prophet to speak for himself, and give us an insight into futurity. " Barney, ahagur," the good man his host would say, "here's a lot o' the neighbors come to hear a whirrangue from you on the Prophecies; and, sure, if you can't give it to them, wlio is there to be found that can ?" "Throth, Paddy Traynor, although I say it that should not say it, there's tnith in thai, at all evints. The same knowledge has cost me many a weary blisthur an' sore heel in hunlin' it up an' down, through mountain an' glen, in Ulsthcr, Munsther, Leins- ther, an' Connaught — not forgcttin' the Highlands of Scotland, wiiere there's what they call the 'short prophecy,' or second sight, but wherein there's aftlier all but little of tlie Irish or long prophecy, that regards what's to befall the winged woman that flew into the wilderness. No, no— their second sight isn't thrue prophecy at all. If a man goes out to fish, or steal a cow, an' that he happens to be drowned or shot, another man that ha5 the second sight will sec this in his mind about or afther the time it happens. Why, that's little. Many a time our own THE IRISH PROPHECY MAN. 21 Irish draraes are aiqual to it; a;i' indeed I have it from a know- ledgeable man, that the gift they boast of has four parents— an empty stomach, thin air, a weak head, an' strou whisky, an' that a man must have all these, espishilly the last, before he can have the second sight properly; an' il's my own opinion. Now, I have a little book (indeed I left my books with a friend down at Errigle) that contains a prophecy of the milk-white hind an' the bloody panther, an' a forebodin' of the slaughter there's to be in the Valley of the Black Pig, as foretold by Beal Derg, or the prophet wid the red mouth, who never was known to speak but when he prophesied, or to prophesy but when he spoke." " The Lord bless and keep us ! — an' why was he called the Man wid the Red Mouth, Barney? " "I'll tell you that; first, bekase he always prophesied about the slaughter and fightin' that was to take place in the tiute to come; an', secondly, bekase, while he spoke, the red blood always trickled out of his mouth, as a proof that what he fore- tould was true." "Glory be to God, but that's wondherful all out. Well, well !" "Ay, an' Beal Derg, or the Red Mouth, is still livin'." " Livin' ! why, is he a man of our own time ?" " Of our own time ! The Lord help you ! It's more than a thousand years since he made the prophecy. The case, you see, is this: he an' the ten thousand witnesses are lyin' in an enchanted sleep in one of the Montherlony mountains." " An' how is that known, Barney ?" '* It's known. Every night at a certain hour one of the wit- nesses — an' they're all sogers, by the way — must come out to look for the sign that's to come." "An' what is that, Barney ?" " It's the fiery cross; an' when he sees one on aich of the four mountains of the north, he's to know that the same sign's abroad in all the other parts of the kingdom. Beal Derg an' his men are then to waken up, an' by their aid the Valley of the Black Kg is to be set free forever." 22 THE ZOZmUS PAPERS. "An' what is the Black Pig, Barney ?" "The Prospitarian church, that stretches from Enniskillcn to Darry, an' back again from Darry to Enniskillen." Well, well, Barney, but prophecy is a strange thing to be sure ! Only think of men livin' a thousand years !" ' Every night one of Beal Derg's men must go to the mouth of the cave, which opens of itself, an' then look out for the sign that's expected. He walks up to the top of the mountain, an' turns to the four comers of the heavans, to thry if he can see it; an' when he finds that he cannot, he goes back to Beal Dcrg, who, afther the other touches him, starts up, an' axes him, ' Is the time come?' He replies, ' No; the man is, but the hour is not !^ an' that instant they're both asleep again. Now, you sec, while the soger is on the mountain top, the mouth of the cave is open, an' any one may go in that might happen to see it. One man it appears did, an' wishin' to know from curiosity whether the sogers were dead or livin', he touched one of them wid his hand, who started up an' axed him the same question, 'Is the time come?' Very fortunately he said '^ No;^ an' that minute the soger was as sound in his trance as before." "An', Barney, what did the soger mane when he said, ' The man is, but the hour is not ' ?" "WTiat did he mane? I'll tell you that. Tlic man is Bony- party; which manes, when put into proper explanation, the right sidd ; that is, the true cause. Lamed men have found that out." "Barney, wasn't Columkill a great prophet?" " He was a great man entirely at prophecy. He prophesied 'that the cock wid the purple comb is to have both his wings clipped by one of his own breed before the struggle come.' Be- fore that time, too, we're to have the Black Militia, an' aftbcr that it is time for every man to be prepared." "An', Barney, who is the cock wid the purple comb?" "Wliy, the Orangemen to be sure. Isn't purple their color, the dirty thieves?" "An' the Black Militia, Barney, who are they?" "I have gone far an' near, through north an' through south, THE IRISH PROPHF.CY MA-JI. 23 ap an' down, by hill an' hollow, till my toes were corned an' my heels in griskins, but could find no one able to resolve that, or bring it char out o' the prophecy. They're to be sogers in black, an' all their arms an' 'coutrements is to be the sai^ie color; an' farther than that is not known as yd.''' "It's a vvondher ;i'('.7 don't know it, Bamey, for there's little about prophecy that you haven't at your finger ends." "Three birds is to meet (Bamey proceeded in a kind of recita- tive enthusiasm) upon the saes — two ravens an' a dove — the two ravens is to attack the dove until she's at the point of death; but before they take her life, r.n eagle comes and tears the two ravens to pieces, an' the dove recovers. " There's to be tv/o cries in the kingdom-, one of them is to rache from the Giants' Causeway to the centre house of the town of Sligo ; the other i.=; to rache from the Falls of Belcek to the Mill of Louth, which is to be turned three times with human blood; but this is not to happen until a man with two thumbs an' six fingers upon his right hand happens to be the miller." " Who's to give the sign of freedom to Ireland ?" "The little boy wid the red coat that's bom a dwarf, lives a giant, and dies a dwarf again ! lie's lightest of foot, but leaves the heaviest foot-mark behind him. An' it's he that is to give the sign of freedom to Ireland !" "There's a period to come v/hen Antichrist is to be upon the earth, attended by his two body servants, Gog and Magog. WTio are they, Bamey ?" "They are the sons of Hegog an' Shegog, or in other words of Death an' Destruction, and cousin-jarmins to the evil one himself, which of coorse is the raison why he promotes them." "Lord save u; ! But I hope that won't be in our time, Bar- ney !" "Antichri--t is to come from ihc land of Crame o' Tarthar (Crim Tartary), which will account for himself an' his army breathin' fire u.i' brimstone out of their mouths. " The prophet of the Black Stone is to come, who was bom never to prognosticate a lie. He is to be a mighty hunter, an' instead 24 THE ZOZIML'S PAPERS. of riding to his fetlocks in blood, he is to ride upon it, to the ad- miration of his times. It's of him it is said ' that he is to lie the only prophet that ever went on horseback !' " Then there's Bardolphns, who, as there was a prophet wid the red mouth, is called 'the prophet wid the red nose.' Ireland was, it appears from ancient books, undher waiher for many hundred years before her discovery ; but bein' allowed to become visible one day in every year, the enchantment was broken by a sword that was thrown upon the earth, an' from that out she re- mained dry, an' became inliabited. 'Woe, woe, woe,' says Bardolphus, ' the time is to come when we'll have a second del- uge, an' Ireland is to be undher vvath.cr once more. A well is to open at Cork that will cover the whole island from the Giants' Causeway to Cape Clear. In them days St. Patrick will be de- spised, an' will stand over the pleasant houses wid his pasthoral crook in hand, crying out Ci\rd mille failtJia in vain! Woe, woe, woe,' says Bard )lphus, 'for in them days there will he a great confusion of colors among the people ; there will be neither red noses nor pale checks, an' the divine face of man, alas ! will put forth blossoms no more. The heart of the times will become changed ; an' when they rise up in the morning, it will come to pass that there will be no longer light heads or shaking hands among Irishmen ! Woe, woe, woe, men, women and children will then die, an' their only complamt, like all those who perish- ed in the flood of ould, will 1^ wathcr on the brain — wather on the brain! Woe, woe, woe,' says Bardolphus, ' for the changes that is to come, an' the misfortunes that's to befall the many for the noddification of the few ! an' yet such things must be, for I, in virtue of the red spirit that dwells in mc, must prophesy. them. In those times men will lie shod in liquid fire an' not be burned ; their breeches shall be made of fire, an" will not burn them ; their bread shall lie made of fire, an' will not burn them ; their meat shall be made of fire, an' will not burn them ; an' why? — Oh, woe, woe, waiher shall so prevail that the coolness of their bodies will keep them safe ; yea, they shall even get fat, fair, an' ho. full of health an' strength, by wearing garments wrought out of THE IRISH PROPHECY MAN, 2$ liquid fire, by eating liquid fire, an' all because they do not drink liquid fire — an' this calamity shall come to pass,' says Bardolphus, the prophet of the red nose. " Two widows shall be grinding at the Mill of Louth (so saith the prophecy) ; one shall be taken and the other left." Thus would Barney proceed, repeating such ludicrous and heterogeneous mixtures of old traditionary prophecies and spu- rious quotations from Scripture as were concocted for him by those who took delight in amusing themselves and others at the expense of his inordinate love for prophecy. "But, Barney, touching the Mill o' Louth, of the two widows grindin' there, whelher will the one that is taken or the one that is left be the best off?" " The prophecy doesn't say," replied Barney, " an' that's a matther that larned men are very much divided about. My own opinion is, that the one that is taken will be the best off ; betune wars an' pestilences an' famine, the men are to be so scarce that several of them are to be torn to pieces by the women in their struggles to see who will get them for husbands. That time they say is to come." Such were the speculations upon which the harmless mind of Barney M'Haighrey ever dwelt. From house to house, from parish to parish, and from province to province, did he thus trudge, never in a hurry, but always steady and constant in his motions. He might be not inaptly tenned the Old Mortality of traditionary prophecy, which he often chiseled anew, added to, and imoroved, in a manner that generally gratified himself and his hearers. lie was a harmless, kind man, and never known to stand in need of either clothes or money. He paid little attention to the silent business of ongoing life, and was consequently very nearly an abstraction. He was always on the alert, however, for the result of a battle ; and after having heard it, he would give no opinion whatsoever until he had first silently compared it with his own private theory in prophecy. If it agreed with this, he immediately published it in connection with his established text ; but if it did not, he never opened his lips on the subject. i6 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. His class has disappeared, and indeed it is so much the better, for the minds of the people were thus filled with antiquated non- sense that did them no good. Poor Barney, to his great mortifi- cation, lived to see with his own eyes the failure of his most favorite prophecies, but he was not to be disheartened even by this ; though some might fail, all could not ; and his stock was too varied and extensive not to furnish him with a su.licient num- ber of others over which to cherish his imagination and expatiate dur»ng the remainder of his inoffensive life. THE DESERTEBL 2J THE DESERTER. [In the course of his desultory peregrinations our poet necessa- rily encountered many a strange and humorous companicn, and he seldom was at a loss to discovcF their salient attractive points, and witliout any apparent effort, induce them to lay open before him whatever mental treasures they possessed. It was from these humble sources that he gathered the materials for some of his most comical and interesting stories, and that which we next lay before our readers it is supposed was first related to Zozimus by a veteran soldier— a relic of Waterloo — and having received from the poet some of his characteristic touches, after- wards delighted many a charmed audience. Although the form under which we present it to our readers has come through tlie hands of one of Ireland's most distinguished litterateurs, it is yet but a faint reflex of the poet's version, in the absence of which we must be content with that of Lever:] "Well, it's a good many years ago my father 'listed in the North Cork, just to oblige ]Mr. Barry, the landlord there; ' For,' says he, ' Phil,' says he, ' it's not a soldier ye'll be at all, but my own man, to brush my clothes and go errands, and the like 6' that, and the king, long life to him, will help to pay ye fjr your trouble — ye understand me.' Well, my father agreed, and Mr. Barry was as good as his word. Never a guard did my father mount, nor as much as a drdl had he, nor a roll-call, nor any thing at all, save and except wait on the Captain, his master, just as pleasant as need be, and no inconvenience in life. 28 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. •» Well, for three years this went on as I'm telling, and the regiment was ordered down to Bantry, because of a report that the 'boys' was rising down there; and the second evening there was a night party patrolling, with Captain Barry, for six hours in the rain, and the Captain, God be marciful to him, tulc cowld and died; more betoken, they said it was drink, but my father says it wasn't; ' For,' says he, ' after he tuk eight tumljlers com- fortable,' my father mixed the ninth, and the Captain waved his hand tliis way, as much as to say he'd have no more. ' Is it that ye mean?' says my father, and the Captain nodded. •Musha, but it's sorry I am,' says my father, 'to see you this way, for ye must be bad entirely to leave off in the beginning of the evening.' And thrae for him, the Captain was dead in tlie morning. " A sorrowful day it was for my father, when he died; it was the finest place in the world; little to do; plenty of divarsion; and a kind man he was — when he was sober. Well, then, when the Captain was buried, and all was over, my fatlier hoped they'd be for letting him away; as he said, ' Sure, I'm no use in life to anybody save the man that's gone, for his ways are all I know, and I never was a sodger.' But, upon my conscience, they had other thoughts in their heads; for they ordered him into the ranks to be drilled just like the recruits they took the day before. •' ' Musha, isn't this hard ?' said my fatlier; ' here I am an ould vitrin that ought to be discharged on a pension, with two-and-ax pence a day, obliged to go capering about the barrack-yard prac- ticmg the goose stcj), or some other nonsense not beroming my age nor my habits;' but so it was. Well, this went on for some time, and sure, if they were hard on my father, didn't h2 li.;ve his revenge, for he nigh broke tlieir hearts with his stupidity; oil! nothing in life could equal him; not a thing, no matter h,,)W easy, he could learn at all; and so far from caring for being in confinement, it was that he liked best. Every sergeant in the regiment had a trial of him, but all to no good, and he seemed striving so hard to learn all the while, that they were loth to punish him, the ould rogue ! THE DESERTER, 2^ " This was going on for some time, when, one clay, news came in that a body of the rebels, as they called them, was coming down from the Gap of Mulnavick to storm the town and bum all before them. The whole regiment was, of coors;, under arms, and great preparations were made for a battle; meanwhile patrols were ordered to scour the roads, and sentries posted at every turn of the way, and every rising ground, to give warning when the boys came in sight, and my father was placed at tlie bridge of Drumsnag, in the wildest and bleakest part of the whole country, with nothing but furze mountains on every side, and a straight road going over the top of them. " ' This is pleasant,' says my father, as soon as they left him there alone by himself, with no human crayture to speak to, nor a whisky shop within ten miles of him; 'cowld comfort,' says he, 'on a winter's day; and faix, but I've a mind to give ye the slip.' " Well, he put his gun down on the bridge, and he lit his pipe, and he sat down under an ould tree, and began to ru.ninate upon his affairs. " ' Oh, then, it's wishing it well I am,' says he, ' for sodgering; and ill will to the hammer that struck the shilling that 'listed me, that's all,' for he was mighty low in his heart. "Just then a noise came rattling down near him; he listened, and before he could get on his legs, down comes the General, ould Cohoon, with an orderly after him. ♦"Who goes that ? ' says my father. •'•The round,' says the General, looking about all the time to see where was the sentry, for my father was snug under the tree. •« * What round ? ' says my father. •" The grand round,' says the General, more puzzled than afore. " ' Pass on, grand round, and God save you kindly,' says my father, putting his pipe in his mouth again, for he thought all was over. " 'Where are you? ' says the General; for sorrow bit of my father could he see yet- 30 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. " 'It's here I am,' says he, 'and a cowld place I have of it; and av it wasn't for the pq^e I'd bi lost entirely.' "The words wasn't well out of his mouth, when the General began laughing till ye'd think he'd fall off his horse; and the dragoon behmd him— more by tol^en, they say it wasn't right for him — laughed as Ijud as himself. " ' Ver a droll sentry,' says the General, as soon as he could speak. " ' Be goira, it's little fun there's left in me,' says my father, * with this drilling and parading, and thrampin' about the roads all nigJit.' " ' And is this the way you salute your ofticer? ' says the Gen- eral. " 'Just so,' says my father, 'sarra a more politeness ever they taught me.' " 'What regiment do you belong to ? ' says the General. " ' The North Cork,' says my father, with a sigh. " ' They ought to be proud of ye,' says the General. "'I'm sorry for it,' says my fatlier, son-owfuUy, 'for maybe they'll keep me the longer.' '"Well, my good fellow,' says the General, 'I haven't more time to waste here ; but let me leach you something before I go. Whenever your officer passes, it's your duty to present arms to him.' " ' Arrali, it's jokin' ye are,' says my father. '"No, I'm in earnest,' says he, 'as ye might learn to your cost if I brought you to a court-martiai.' " 'We'll, there's no knowing,' s;\ys my father, 'what they'd be up to; but sure if that's all, I'll do it with all " the veins," whenever ycr coming this way again.' " The Gcncr.d began to laugli again here, but said: " ' I'm coming back in tl:e evening,' says he, 'and mind you don't fjrget your respect to your officer.' '•' 'Never fear, s'.r,* says my father, 'and many tlianks to you for your kindness for telling me.' "Away went the General, and the orderly after him, and in ten minutes they were out of sight. \ THE DESERTER. 3 1 " The night was falling fast, and one-half of the mountain was quite dark already, when my father began to think they were forgetting him entirely. He looked one way, and he looked an- other, but sorra bit of a sergeant's guard was coming to relieve him. There he was, fresh and fasting, and daren't go for the bare life. *I'll give you a quarter of an hour more,' says my father, *till the light leaves that rock up there; after that,' says he, • I'll be off, av it cost me what it may !' " Well, sure enough, his courage was not needed tliis time; for what did he see at the same moment but the shadow of some- thing coming down the road, opposite the bridge; he looked again; and then he made out the General himself, that was walking his horse down the steep part of tlie mountain, followed by the orderly. My father immediately took up his musket off the wall, settled his belts, shook the ashes out of his pipe, and put it in his pocket, making himself as smart and neat-looking as he could be, determining, when ould Cohoon came up, to ask him for leave to go home, at least for the night. Well, by this time the General was turning a sharp part of the cliff that looks down upon the bridge, from where you might look five miles round on every side. * He sees me,' says my father; * but I'll be just as quick as himself.' No sooner said than done; for coming forward to the parapet of the bridge, he up with his musket to his shoulder, and presented it straight at the General. It wasn't well there, when the of^ccr pulled up his horse quite short, and shouted out, ' Sentry — sentry !' " ' Anan !' says my father, still covering lum. ♦' ' Down with your musket, you rascal; don't you see it's the grand round ? ' "To be sure I do,' says my father, never changing for a minute. •*'The rufiian will shoot me,' says the General. '♦ * Not a fear,' says my father, ' av it doesn't go off of itself.' •"What do you mean by that, you villain ?' says the Gen- eral, scarce able to speak with fright, for every turn he gave on his horse my father followed with the gun— 'What do you mean? ' 32 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. *' 'Sure, aint I presenting?' says my father; 'tear an' sges, do you want me to fire next?' "With that the General drew a pistol from his holster, and took deliberate aim at my father; and there they l)olh stood for live minutes, looking at each other, the orderly, all the while, breaking his heart laughing behind the rock ; for, yc see, the Gen- eral knew av he retreated that my father might fire on purpose, and av he came on that he might fire by chance ; and sorra btt he knew what was best to l>e done. *' 'Are ye going to pass tlie evening up there, grand round?' says my father, ' for it's tired I'm getting houldin' this so Icmg !' " 'Port arms,' shouted the General, as if on parade. " ' Sure I can't, till yer passed,' says my father, angrily, 'and my hand's trembling already.' " ' By Jove ! I shall be shot,' says the General. " ' Be gorra, it's what I'm afraid of,' says my father; and the words wasn't out of his mouth before off went liie musket, bang, and down fell the General, smack on the ground, senseless. Well, the orderly ran out at this, and took him up and examined his wound; but it wasn't a wound at all, only the wadding of the gun, for my father — God be kind to him— ye seo, could do noth- ing right, and so he bit off the wrong end of the cartridge wlien he put it in the gun, and by reason there was no bullet in it. Well, from that day after they never got sight of him, for the in- stant the General dropiied, he sprung over the bridge wall, and got away; and what, between living in a lime-kiln for two months, eating nothing but blackberries and sloes, and other dis- guises, he never returned to the army, but ever after took to a civil situation, and driv a hearse for many years." THE MATCHMAKER. 33 THE MATCHMAKER. [If there was anything which the gifted, but for a time neglect- ed story-teller and iniprovvisatore, loved to dwell on more than an- other, it was the ancient customs of the people of his own class — customs and habits which even in his day were fast dying out. All that concerned the afiections of the peasiintry and the hum- bler denizens of his native city, were to him of much more im- portance than the simulated love and friendship of what are some- times called the higher classes. His description of the Cosherer, or Matchmaker, which, as soon as it became known, found its way, "with notes and comments," into a Dublin magazine, is particularly good, though the occupation of the Rose Moans is pretty well gone in these latter tinsentimental days. We will, however, give the sketch as nearly as possible as he related it, though, of course, somewhat improved by his more accomplished plagiarist.] One of the best specimens of the Cosherer, or Ma.chmaker, I ever met was old Rose Mahon, or, as she was callea Moan, a name, we doubt, fearfully expressive of the consequences which too frequently followed her negotiations. Rose was a tidy creature cf middle size, who always went dressed in a short crimson cloak much faded, a striped red and blue drugget petti- coat, and a heather-colored gown of the same fabric. When walking, which she did with the aid of a light hazel staff hooked at the top, she generally kept the hood of her cloak over her head, which gave her whole figure a picturesque effect; and when she threv.' it back one could not help admiring how well her small but symmetrical features agreed with the dowd cap of white linen, with a plain muslin border, which she wore. A pair of 34 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. blue stockings and sharp-pointed shoes high in the heels com- pleted her dress. Her features were good-natured and Irish; but there lay over the whole countenance an expression of quick- ness and sagacity, contracted no doubt by a habitual exercise of penetration and circumspection. At the time I saw her she was very old, and I believe had the reputation of being the last in that part of the country who was known to go about from house to house spinning on the distaff, an instrament which has now passed away, being more conveniently replaced by the spinning- wheel. The manner and style of Rose's visits were different from those of any other who could come to a famier's house, or even to an humble cottage, for to the inmates of both were her services equally rendered. Let us suppose, for instance, the whole f(5male part of a farmer's family assembled of a summer evening about five o'clock, each engaged in some domestic employment; in runs a lad who has been sporting about, breathlessly exclaiming, whilst his eyes are lit up with delight, " Mother ! mother ! here's Rose Moan coming down the boreen !" "Get out, avick; no she's not." " Bad cess to me but she is; that I may never stir if she isn't ! Now !" The whole family are instantly at the door to see if it be she, v/ith the exception of the prettiest of them all, Kitty, who sits at her wheel, and immediately begins to croon over an old Irish air which is sadly out of tune; and well do we know, notwitlistanding the mellow tones of that sweet voice, why it is so, and also why that youthful cheek in which licalth and beauty meet is now the color of crimson. •' Oh, Roshii, acnshla, ccad millia faille glnid ! (Rose, dar- lin', a hundred thousand welcomes to you !) Och, musha, what kep' you away so long. Rose ? Sure you won't lave us this month o' Sundays, Rose?" are only a few of the cordial expressions of hospitality and kindness with which she is received. But Kitty, whose check but a moment ago was carmine, why is it now pale as the lily? " An' what news, Rose ?" asks one of her sisters, '* sure you'll tell us eveiythinrj; won't you?" THE MATCHMAKER. 35 **Throth, avillish, I have no bad news, anyhow — an' as lo tellin' you «//— Biddy, Ihig dumh, let me alone. No, I have no bad news, God be praised, but good news. ''^ Kitty's cheek is again crimson, and her lips, ripe and red as cherries, expand with the sweet soft smile of her country, exhibit- ing a set of teeth for which many a countess would barter thous- ands, and giving out a breath more delicious than the fragrance of a summei meadow. Oh, no wonder, indeed, that tlie kind heart of Rose contains in its recesses a message to her as tender as ever was transmitted from man to woman ! "An', Ivitty, acushla, where's the welcome ixQva. yoii, that's my favorite? Now don't be jealous, childre; sure you all know she is, an' ever an' always was." " If it's not upon my lips, it's in my heart. Rose, an' from that heart you're welcome !" She rises up and kisses Rose, who gives her one glance of meaning, accompanied by the slightest imaginable smile; and a gentle but significant pressure of the hand, which thrills to her heart and diffuses a sense of ecstasy through hei whole spirit. Nothing now remains but the opportunity, which is equally sought for hy Rose and her, to hear without interruption the pur- port of her lover's communication; and this we leave to lovers to imagine. In some parts of Ireland, however, there occur among the very poorest classes some of the hardest and most penurious bargains in matchmaking that ever were heard of or known. Now strangers might imagine that all this close higgling pro- ceeds from a spirit naturally mean and sordid, but it is not so. The real secret of it lies in the poverty and necessity of the parties, and chiefly in the bitter experience of their parents, who, having come together in a state of d;slitution, are anxious, each as much at the expense of the other as possible, to prevent their children from experiencing the same privation and misery which they themselves felt. Many a lime have matches been suspended or altogether broken off because one party refuses to give his son a slip of a pig, or another his daughter a pair of blankets; and it ^6 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. was no unusual thing for a matchmaker to say, "Nevermind; I have it all settled liii t!.c s/ip." One might naturally wonder why those who arc so shrewd and provident upon this subject do not strive to prevent early marriages where the poverty is so great. So, unquestionably, they ought, but it is a settled usage of the country, and one, too, which Irishmen have never been in the habit of considering as an evil. We have no doubt that if they once began to reason upon it as such, they would be very strongly disposed to check a custom which has been the means of involving themselves and their unhappy offspring in misery and penury. Rose, lilce many othexs in this world who are not conscious of the same failing, smelt strongly of the shop; in other words, her conversation had a strong matrimonial tendency. No two beings ever lived so decidedly antithetical to each other in this point of view as the Matchmaker and the Keener. Mention the name of an individual or a family to the Keener, and the medium through which her memory passes back to them is that of her professed employment— a mourner at wakes and funerals. "Don't you know young Kelly of Tamlaght?" "I do, avick," replies the Keener, "and what about him?'' "Why, he was married to-day momin' to ould Jack McClus- key's daughter." "Well, God grant them luck an' happiness, poor things ! I do indeed rememlx;r his father's wake an' funeral well— ould Risthard Kelly of Tandaght — a dacent corpse he made for his years, an' well he looked. But indeed I kncwn by the color that sted in his cheeks, an' the limbs remainin' soople for the twenty-four hours aflher his departure, that some of the family 'ud follow him afore the year was out; an' so she did. The youngest daughter, poor thing, by raison of a cowld she got, over- heatin' herself at a dance, was stretched beside him that very day was cloven months; and God knows it was from the heart my grief came for her — to see the poor handsome colleen laid low so soon. But when a gullopin' consumption sets in, avoumeen, sure we all know what's to happen. In Crockaniska church-yard THE MATCHMAKER. 37 they sleep — the Lord make both their beds in heaven this day !" The very reverse of this^ but at the same time as inveterately professional, was Rose Moan. "God save you, Rose." " God save you kindly, avick. Eh ! — let me look at you ! Aren't you red Billy M'Guirk's son from Ballagh?" " I am, Rose. An' Rose, how is yourself an' the world gettin' an .'" " Can't complain, dear, in such times. How are ycz all at home, alanna?" " Faix, middlin' well. Rose, thank God an' you. You heard of my grand-uncle's death, big Ned M'Coul?" "I did, avick, God rest him. Sure it's well I remimber his weddin', poor man, by the same atoken that I know one that helped him on with it a thriflc. He was married in a blue coat and buckskins, and wore a scarlet waistcoat that you'd see three miles off. Oh, well I remimber it. An' whin he was settin' out that momin' to the priest's house — 'Ned,' says I, an' I whis- pered him, ' dhrop a button on the right knee afore you get the words said.' ' ThigJiiim,^ said he wid a smile, an' he slipped ten thirteens into my hand as he spoke. 'I'll do it,' said he, ' and thin a fig for the fairies !' becase, you see, if there's a but- ton of the right knee left unbuttoned, the fairies — this day's Fri- day, God stand betune us and harm ! — can do neither hurt nor harm to sowl or body, an' sure that's agreatblessin', avick. He left two fine slips o' girls behind him." " He did so — as good-lookin' girls as there's in the parish." " Faix, an' kind mother for tbem, avick. She'll be marryin' agin, I'm judgin', she bein' sicli a fresh, good-lookin' woman." "Why, it's very likely, Rose." " Throth its natural, achora. What can a lone woman do wid such a large farm upon her hands, widout having some one to manage it for her, an' prevint her from bein' imposed on ? But indeed the first thing she ought to do is to marry off her two girls widout loss of time, in regard that it's hard to say how a step-father an' thim might agree; and I've often known the mother herself, w'aen she had a fresh family comin' an her. 38 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. to be as unnatural to her fatherless children as if she was a stranger to thim, and that the same blood didn't run in their veins. Not saying that Mary M'Coul will or would act that way by her own ; for indeed she's come of a kind ould stock, an' ought to have a good heart. Tell her, avick, when you see her, that I'll splnd a day or two wid her— let me see — the day after to- morrow will be Palm Sunday — wliy, about the Aisther holidays. "- "Indeed I will. Rose, with great pleasure." "An' whisper, dear, jist tell her that I've a thing to say to her — that I had a long dish o' discoorse about her wid a friend o^ mine. You won't forget now?" ' ' Oh, the dickens a f jrget ! ' ' "Thank you, dear; God mark you to grace, avourneen ! When you're a little ouldher, maybe I'll be a friend to you yet." This last intimation was given with a kind of mysterious benevolence, very visible in the complacent shrewdness of her face, and with a twinkle in the eye, full of grave humor and considerable self-importance, leaving the mind of the person she spoke to in such an agreeable uncertainty as rendered it a matter of great difficulty to determine whether she was serious or only in jest, but at all events throwing the onus of inquiry upon him. The ease and tact with which Rose could involve two young persons of opposite sexes in a mutual attachment, were very remarkable. In truth, she was a kind of matrimonial incen- diar}', who went through the country holding her torch now to this heart and again to that— first to one and then to another, until she had the parish more or less in a flame. And when we consider the combustible materials of which the Irish heart is composed, it is no wonder indeed that the labor of taking the census in Ireland increases at such a rapid rate. If Rose, for instance, met a young woman accidentally — and it was won- derful to think how regularly tliese accidental meetings took place ^she would address her probably somewhat as follows: "Ana, Biddy Sullivan, how arc you, a-coUeen?" " Faix, bravely, thank you, Rose. How is yourself?" THE MATCHMAKER. 39 "Indeed, thin, sorra bit o' the health we can complain of, Bhried, barrin' whin this pain in the back comes upon us. The last time I seen your mother, Biddy, she was complainin' of a weid* I hope she's betther, poor woman ?" " Hut ! bad scran to the thing ails her ! She has as light a foot as e'er a one of us, an' can dance 'Jackson's mornin' brush' as well as ever she could." " Throth, an' I'm proud to hear it. Och! och! 'Jackson's mornin' brush!' and it was she that could do it. Sure I re- number her wedding-day like yesterday. Ay, far an' near her fame wint as a dancer; an' the clanest-made girl that ever came from Lisbuie. Like yestherday do I remember it, an' how the squire himself and the ladies from the Big House came down to see herself an' your father, the bride and groom — an' it wasn't on every hill head you'd get sich a couple — dancin' the same 'Jackson's mornin' brush.' Oh ! it was far an' her fame wint for dancin' that. An' is there no news wid you, Bhried, at all, at all ?" " The sorra word. Rose; where ui I get news ? Sure it's yourself that's always on the fut that ought to have the news for us. Rose alive." " An' maybe I have, too. I was spakin' to a friend o' mine about you the other day." "A friend o' yours. Rose ! Why, what friend could it be?" " A frie.id o' mine — ay, an' of yours too. Maybe you have more friends than you think, Biddy — and kind ones, too, as far as wishin' you well goes, 'tany rate. Ay, have you, faix, an' friends that e'er a girl in the parish might be proud to hear named in the one day wid her. Awouh !" " Bedad we're in luck, thin, for that's more than Iknow of. An' who may these great friends of ours be. Rose?" " Awouh ! Faix, as dacent a boy as ever broke bread the same boy is, 'And,' says he, ' if I had goold in bushelfuls, I'd think it too little for that girl;' but, poor lad, he's not aisy or *A feverish cold. 40 THE ZXJZnSVS PAPERS. happy in his mind in regard o' that. 'I'm afeard,' says he, 'that she'd put scorn upon me, an' not think me her aiquals* An' no more I am,' says he agaia, 'for wliere, afther all, would you get the likes of Biddy Sullivan!' — Poor boy 1 throth, my heart aches for him !" " Well, can't you. fail m love wid him yourself, RoGe, who- ever he is?" " Indeed, an' if I was at your age, it would be no shame to me to do so; buit, to tell you the tliiruUi, the sorra often ever the likes of Paul Hefferuan came across me." "Paul Hefeman 1 Why, Rose,'* replied Biddy, smiling with the assumed hgbtness of indifference, " is that your beauty ? If it is, why, keep him, an' make much of him." " Oh, wurrah 1 the differ there is between the hearts an' tongues of some people — one from another — an' the way they spaik behind others' backs ! Weil, well, I'm sure that wasn't the way he spoke of you, Biddy ; an' God forgive you for runnin* down the poor boy as you're doin'. Trogs ! I believe you're the only girl would do iL" " Who, me ? I'm not numin' him down. I'm neither runnin' him up nor down. I have neither good nor bad to say about him — the boy's, a Hack sthranger to me, barrin' to know his face." *' Faix, an^ he's in consate wid you these three months past, an' intindstobe at the dance on Friday next, in Jack Gormly's new house. Now, good-bye, alanna; keep your own counsel till the time comes, an' mind what I said to you. It's not behind every ditch the likes of Paul Heffenian grows. Bcumaglit Ihath ! My blessin' be wid you !" Thus ^«ould Rose tlepart jast at the critical moment, for well she knew that by husbanding her information and leaving the heart sometliiiig to find out, she took tlic most effectual steps to excite and sustain that kind of interest which is apt ultimately to ripen, even from its own agitation, into the attachment she is anxious to promote. The next day, by a meeting similarly accidental, she cooses in THE MATCHMAKER. 41 contact with Paul Heffernan, who, honest lad, had never prob- ably bestowed a thought upon Biddy Sullivan in his life. '■'■ Morrow ghu J, Paiil ! — how is your father's son, ahager ?" * Morrow ghuleka. Rose ! —my father's son waats aothin' but a good wife, Rosha.' An' it's not every sat day or ibonfire -night that a good wife Is to be had, Paul — that is, a good one, as you say; for, throth, there's many o' them in the market, sich .as they are. I was talkin' about you to a friend of mine the other day — an', trogs, I'm afearsed on an outside car, 1 won't want them." " My dear Mrs. Molloy, it is the l^eef I allude to. Is it packed?" " The beef! What beef?" "Why, dear me, you surely haven't forgotten that a .six-rib piece of roast beef was to be supplied by yon ?' " I — declare — I — never — once — thought of it. Well, now, that's odd." Mr. Sharpe's countenance fell. Tlie discovery had been made too timely io please him. " What's best to be done now? lean purchase Ijcef some- where as we go along, and we'll get it dressed at Howth, in some cabin or another." " Phwee — oo," whistled Mr. Robert O'Gorman ; "what the deuce would we do with ourselves for five or six hours, at the least, that such a piece would take to roast, wtlKiut anything to keep its back warm in an open cabin? I'il tell you what, ma'am ; give me the money, and I'll get as- much cold roast beef as you like, fi-om Mislholland." "Who is Mulholland ?" " Oh, 'tis no matter ; I'll get tl>e meat, if you want it." " Very well, Mr. O'Gorman, do so, and you'll oblige me ; here is a guinea. But why not tell who Mulholland is?" Mr. O'Gorman bolted, without making any reply. Now, the fact of the matter was simply this, that Mulholland 54 THE ZOZtMUS PAPERS. was a sort of second-hand caterer, who purchased the meat that was sent unused fro .11 the dining hall of Trinity College, and sup- plied it again to such students as felt too economically inclined to attend commons, and thus save money from the parental al- lowances, for other, and better (?) uses. To this class did Mr. O'Gorman sometimes belong. In a very short time he re-appeared. " You were not long, Mr. O'Gorman ; did you succeed in get- ting a suitable piece ?" " Suitable ? If sixteen pounds will suit you, I have got that ; and I gave him the change of the guinea," addressing Mrs. Mal- loy, "for himself, ma'am, for his trouble in packing it, and the loan of the basket, which, of course, he can't expect in reason ever to see again. Nobody would bring home an empty basket." " The change of the guinea for himself! Why, Mr. O'Co"-- man, instead of giving him more than he asked, you should have cut him down in his price. The change of the guinea for him- self! Oh, gracious! did any one ever hear of the like ! Oh, dear me! the change for himself! Oh, dear!" and in a gentle repetition or two, in an under-toue, Mrs. MoUoy's surprise died away, like a retiring echo; for the bustle of departure claimed all attention now. It lias lieeii but too frequently remarked, that a party of plea- sure is seldom wholly unembittered by pain, and our party was doomed not to be an exception to the rule ; although the point had been mooted, and the question discussed, at the first meeting (an evening party at Mrs. Harvey's), where the preliminaries were arranged, and it had been voted unanimously that our party should be pleasant, and agreeable, and happy, from the start to the return ; and further, that nothing should go astray ; and that if any person should lie disagreeable, he or she should be voted out ; with fifty other resolutions, that the secretary was unable to record, in consequence of the movers and seconders, the president and audience, secretary and all, talking rapidly and vehemently together, until order was suddenly restored by Mr. O'Gorman (who had the loudest voice, and the knack of AN IRISH " PIC-NIC. 55 making himself heard alxjve any uproar, acquired by a long and regular course of practice in the upper gallery of Crow Street theatre) shouting out, " Order-r-r-r-r, ladies and gentlemen, order-r-r-r-r ! The rule of this society is, that not more than six shall speak at a time : and I feel it to be my duty, madam, to call upon you, for the sake of regularity, to preserve this rule in- Tiolate. This party of pleasure, madam, is to be a party of pleasure unlike all the parties of pleasure that have gone beiire it. Pleasure, madam, is to be the beginning, pleasure the nf d- dle, and pleasure the end of it ; and I shall coaclude, madam, by saying that I have the pleasure of wishing that it may be so." Mr. O'Gorman unfortunately had not the celebrated wishing- cap on his head at the lime. Mr., Mrs., and Miss Harvey, a maiden sister of Mr. Harvey, Mrs. Molloy, Mr. Sharpe, Mr. O'Brien, his mother and three sisters, Mr. O'Donnell and his daughter, O'Gorman, Fitzgerald, Sweeny, Costello, and two or three more college men, completed the muster roll of the party. The vehicles consisted of Mr. Harvey's and Mr. O'Brien's carriages, Mr. O'Donnell's jaunting- car, an outside jarvey that O'Gorman had brought, and Mr. Sharpc's gig. Poor John's wrist had been so sadly hurt that he could not attend, and the gentlemen gave every assurance to Mrs. Harvey that he would not be missed by her, they would make themselves so useful. Everything was at length announced to be ready. A basket, covered with oiled silk, swinging conspicuously from the axle- tree of the gig, rendered it unnecessary to ask Mr. Sharpe if he had all the requisites prepared ; and Mrs. Harvey, having cast the last scrutinizing glance around, gave the long-wished-for word to ' ' take places. ' ' Now, all this time there were four hearts bent upon one ob- ject, and four heads at work planning how tj attain it. The youngest of the Misses O'Brien was the sprightliest girl of the party ; and although Miss O'Donnell might dispute the prize for beauty with her, the former was the most admired by the young 56 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. men upon the present occasion, and Messrs. O'Gorman, Fitzgerald, Sweeny, and Costello, had each resolved to attach himself to her, if possible. The first-mentioned, who was a general favorite, had con- trived most successfully to keep near her during breakfast, and pretty nearly to engross her attention during the subsequent time that had elapsed previously to the discovery of Mrs. MoUoy's forgetfulness, by telling her tales of college life, and adventures replete with wonders, that might have caused the renowned Sin- bad the sailor himself, or the equally celebrated Baron Mun- chausen, to stare, and bite the bitter nail of envy, while they could not withhold their meed of applause from one who was their master at the mar\'elous, and could give them lessons in the sublime art of invention. It was Bob's an.xiety to get on the road that made him tender his service, in the supplying of the beef ; and the certainty that he had completely ingratiated himself with the young lady, by his stories, at which she had laughed most heartily, made him feel very little uneasiness at the prospect of a few minutes' sepa- ration, especially when she knew that he had only absented him- self for the purpose of expediting the arrangements that were to give him an opportunity of catering for her amusement for the remainder of the day. When he returned and saw her sur- rounded by the other three, he resolved to let them go on quietly, and trusted to snatch her from them by some stratagem, just at the last moment. Now, it must \)e confessed that Miss Kate would have much preferred the rattling, noisy, lying, merry, mischievous scamp, as her companion, to any other, because she loved laughing, and he supplied her plentifully with food for mirth ; and she was very well inclined, and quite resolved within herself, to second any bold attempt that he might make to rescue her from the trio by which she was surrounded. Great was her chagrin to see that he took no manner of trouble about the matter, but apparently oc- cupied himself with the elder Miss Harvey. What a taste he must have ! thought she, to attach himself to the old maid of the AN IRISH " PIC-NIC. 57 party ; and it was v/ith something of pe'ti^hness that she stood, or rather jumped up, when the order to move was given. Her glove fell. Fitz;^erald and Costello stooped, or rather dashed themselves down from opposite sides at the same instant to se- cure the prize ; their heads came in contact, with a crash re.sem- bling that caused by two cracked pitchers being jolted together, and so loud as to astonish the hearers ; and they recoiled from the collision into a sitting posture, one under the table, and the other under the piano. When Xantippe, the wife of that great philosopher Socrates, had failed in her efforts to vex him by abuse, her last resource was to break some article of crockery upon his head : it is re- corded that he coolly wiped his face, which had been deluged by the contents, merely saying, "After thunder comes rain." Now, I'd be bound that if we could ascertain what Socrates said to himself at the time, we should find that for ail his smooth face and soft words he inwardly took some desperate liberties with the heathen deities, aud pitched Xantippe, crockery, and all the makers of it, to Pluto, and all the infernal gods, in a hurry. However, he kept his countenance, which is more than can be said of Frank Costello, or Dick Fitzgerald, or of Mr. Sharpe, who nearly went into convulsions with laughter ; indeed, to do him justice, his was not the only laughter, for no one could resist the excitement to risibility contained in the picture before them. At the first moment each of the gentlemen had uttered a loud exclamation savoring strongly of impiety ; then, immediately recollecting the presence of ladies, they muttered what might have been supposed by the charitable to be half-suppressed prayers, but that their countenances were strangely discordant with pious thoughts, for each with his hand on his head, his teeth set, his lips apart and tightly drawn, and his eyes glaring with pain and vexation, sai looking, or rather grinning, like a hyena, at the other. That keen sense of the ridiculous which always comes upon us so inopportunely, made them at length get up, and the condolences offered on all sides, in the most tender inflections of voice, but with countenances which but too plainly showed how 58 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. great was the effort to suppress laughter, excited their anger against one another most terribly ; nor was it likely to be the more readily allayed by seeing Dan Sweeny walking off with the prize, the contention for which had caused their misfortune. It was with difficulty they could be kept from fighting. Leaving them to settle the matter as they pleased. Sweeny conducted the lady to her carnage, close to which a new scene awaited them. On the step of the hackney jauntjng-car sat O'Gorman, with his left foot upon his right knee, alternately rubbing his shin very gently, and hugging the leg as if it was a bal:iy, groan- ing, and screwnig bis face into the most hideous grimaces. After the scene they had just witnessed, this was irresistible, and Miss Kate laughed long and heartily. Bob looked at her, made a more hideous grimace than before, groaned, rubbed more vio- lently, and then giving himself a most ludicrous twist, grinned, rubbed, and groaned again. "Why — ha-ha-ha ! — Mr. O'Gorman, what — ha-ha-ha ! — has happened you ?" " Oh, ah ! oh ! may the d I beg your pardon. But, oh, hif ! to the — och, I mean bad luck to all wood and iron ! Hif, oh ! I attempted to jump upon this rascallynstep, when my foot slipped off, and down I came, scraping all the skin off my shin bone. Oh ! bad luck to it — to the step, Imean." The manner in which he said this, made all who heard him laugh more, but he did not seem to be in the least degree dis- concerted ; and as to being angry, there was not a trace of it on his countenance. Sweeny, who prided himself upon being quite a ladies' man, and who was just then immensely elated at having distanced all his competitors, but especially O'Goniian, whose retirement from the competition he considered to be a tacit acknowledgment of inferiority, offered a jesting sort of condolence to him, and re- commended him strongly to rub the injured part with vinegar, or whiskey, or salt and water ; it might smart a little at first, to be sure, and make him grin and roar somewhat, but it would be well in no time ! But m the midst of his badinage, Miss AN IRISH " PIC-NIC. 59 O'Brien missed her parasol, and he was obliged to run back to the drawing-room to look for it. As soon as he had disappeared within the hall door, O'Gorman sprang to nis feet, and drawing the parasol from the breast of his coat, tendered it, and his arm, to the young lady, saying, with the greatest exultation, " Hoaxed, by jingo ! alas ! poor Sweeny. Come, Miss Kate, your brother is so taken up with Miss O'Donnell, that he can't attend to anything, or anybody. Never mind your mother ; she can't bawl out at us, }'ou know; and if she attempted to scold, she'd be voted out. I've got Sharpe's gig — come, jump up, and we'll have such a day ! Oh, but haven't I done them all brown ! Hurrah for Howth, and the sky over it ! Oh, you little darling !" added he, restraining him- self with considerable difficulty from giving her a hug and a kiss, as she laughingly complied with his invitation, and seated herself with him in the gig, just as Sweeny returned, protesting himself unable to find the parasol. " Oh, it got tired waiting for you, and came of itself. But I say. Sweeny, capital receipt that of yours for sore shins ; quite cured mine in a moment — first application. Hullo ! here, you will probably want a pocket handkerchief during the day ; I'll lend you one;" and Bob threw hira his own. "I picked his pocket in the drawing-room," said he, turning to his delighted companion ; " I was determined that he should go back for something ; and hsre's yours, which I secured also. Now, then, if we follow those rumbling machines, we shall be smothered with dust, so we had better show them the way." Chick, chick — and poor Mrs. O'Brien could scarcely believe her eyes when she saw her daughter whirl past her in a gigwith one of the most incorrigible scapegraces in the Univer- sity. He took goo 1 care that they should not be recalled, for he was out of sight in a twinkling; nor did the party get a view of him again until they had passed Clontarf, when they found him walk- ing the horse quietly, in order that they might overtake him. In those days the favorite resort for parties of pleasure was the 60 THE ZOZIMl'S PAPERS. rocky shore of Howth, facing Killiney, and our party had select- ed a spot which was well known to two or three of them. It was a little hollow in the rocks, where the mould had collected, and was covered with a smooth, close sod. Its fonn reseml^led a horseshoe, the open being to the sea; and the rock descended at that side perpendicularly six or seven feet to the water. There was just room enough for t'le party to seat themselves comforta- bly, so that every one could enjoy the seaward view. It was a considerable distance from the place where the vehicles should stop; indeed, the hill intervened and sliould be crossed, so that it was no trifling matter to carry a large basket or hamper to it. O'Gorman resolved not to encumber himself with anything that might divide his attention with his charming partner; and, accordingly, when they had pulled up, calling to the driver of thejarvey, "Here, JNIurphy," said he, "you'll take charge of the basket that's slung under the gig, and follow the rest when they're ready." "Oh, to be sure, sir, sartinly," was the reply, and away went Bob to show the scenoiy to Mi>s Kate, from various points quite unknown to her before, leaving the remainder of the party to set- tle matters as they pleased. Murphy's assistance was required by the servants who were un- lading the carriages first; and each gentleman, taking a basket or bundle, and even the ladies charging themselves with some light articles, they set forward, leaving two or three heavy hampers to the-servants' charge. All having at length departed, except Mr. O'Donnell's servant, who had been left in charge of the vehicles, and Murphy, who was to take the gig basket, the latter proceeded to unslrap it. As he shook it in opening the buckles, some broken glass fell upon the road. "Oh! miallia murther! what's this? My sowl to glory, if half tho bottom isn't out ov the basket. Och, hone, oh! Mas- ther Bob, bud you are the raal clip. By gannies, he's dhruv till he's dhruv the knives and forks clane through; the dickens a AN IRISH *' PIC-NIC." 6l one there's left; an' as for the glasses, be my sowl he'd be a handy fellow that ud put otie together. Oh ! marcy sa' me ! here's a purty mess. Musha ! what's best to be done, at all, at all?" "Take it to them, anyhow, " answered his companion, "and show it to them.'' " Arrah, what's the use of hawkin' it over the mountain ? Can't Ijist go an' tell what's happened?" " Take care you wouldn't have to come back for it," said the other, "an' have two journeys instead of one. Maybe they wouldn't b'lieve you, thinkin' it was only a thrick that that limb o' th' ould boy put you up to." The prospect of a second journey, on such a hot day, not being particularly agreeable. Murphy took up the shattered basket and proceeded . Having yet two hours to spare, the party resolved to consume them by sauntering al) out until the hour appointed for dinner, which being come, and all having assembled at one point, near the Bailey, they proceeded together to the chosen spot, where they found Murphy awaiting them with a most rueful countenance. He had been vainly trying to invent some plausible excuse for his patron, as he dreaded that all the blame would be thrown upon Bob's luird driving at setting out. " Th.e bottom's fell out o' the blaggard rotten ould bashket, ma'am, an' the knives an' forks has fell an the road." "Oh, v/ell," said Mr. Sharpe (who did not seem tol)e eitherso astonished or angry as one might have expected), "give them a rub in a napkin; a little dust won't do them any harm." "Why, thin, the sorra a one o' them there is to a rub," said Murphy, " barrin' this one crukked ould fork." Despite his loss, Mr. Sharpe could not refrain from laughing when Murphy held up an article, which had certainly been packed for a joke, it was so distorted, one prong l^eing tolerably straight, but the other sticking out as if it was going to march. However, collecting himself, he asked sternly, " Do you mean to tell me that all the knives and forks were lost upon the road ?" 62 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "Jistso, sir," was the reply. " The glass; is it safe ?" "Bruck, sir— all in smithereens; sorra as much ov id together as ud show what the patthcrn was." '* And the spoons," roared Mr. Sharpe, as if the thought had only }v.:t struck him. " Spoons ! sir. Oh, be my sowl you'd better look for thim yourself; here's the bashket." " This is a costly party to me," said Mr. Sharpe, " but itcan't be helped now; so don't let my loss cause any diminution of your plcojsure or enjoyment." Every one looked MJth perfect admiration at Mr. Sharpe, sur- prised at his magnanimity, and Mrs. Hai-vey thought that she must have altogether mistaken his character hitherto; but she would not have thought so, had she known that he had purposely pro- cured a rotten basket, with the bottom partially broken, in which he had packed a quantity of broken glass, and in which he (of course) had tiof packed either spoons, knives, or forks, except the very one which Murphy had held up; and it was to prevent exam- ination or inquiry that he had been so voluble upon his arrival in the morning. But had his loss been, as the company supposed, real instead of fictitious, he must have been gratified, nay, de- lighted, at the dismay which gradually spread itself over almost every countenance, at the prospect of having to eat a dinner without knives, forks, or spoons, and to drink without glasses, or even cups. ♦' Gentlemen," said Mr. Harvey, "have you got penknives vrith you ? I have forgotten mine." So had every one else except Mr. Sharpe. He would willingly have kept it .secret, but he knew that if he should attempt to use it, himself, it would'lie .seen; so lie made a virtue of neces.sity, and lent it to Mr. Har\'ey for the purpose of carving the roast beef! The dinner was now nearly arranged, and the Last basket, in which MulhoUand had packed the roast beef, was opened. The remnant of an old college gown was first dragged forth, and Mr. AN IRISH " PIC-NIC." 63 O'Brien's servant, to whom the task was assigned, looked in, tit- tered, looked again, and then drew forth two long, large ribs, with a piece of meat about the size of a cricket ball attached to the ends of them. Having laid them on the dish, he dipped again, and produced, with another titter, a shapeless lump of meat without any bone — (he would be a clever anatomist that could tell what part of the beasit it had been.) Another dip, and with a roar of laughter lie raised and deposited on the dish four ribs, from which nearly every morsel of meat had been cut. "What is the meaning of this, Mr. O'Gorman?" said Mrs. Harvey, who was quite disconcerted at the turn things had taken, and was now seriously disposed to be angry. "My dear madam," said he, " it may look a little unsightly, but it is all prime meat, depend upon it. It was dressed yester- day for the College dining-hall." "You don't mean, surely, to call bare bones meat, sir?" " My dear madam," said Bob, "you will find that there is as much meat without bone as will compensate. Mulholland is a very honest fellow in that respect." Some laughed, some were annoyed, some were disgusted; but by degrees hunger asserted its riglits, and reconciled them a little, especially when O'Gorman pointed out how much easier it would be to carve the small jjieces with a pc-nhiijf, than if they had but one large one. "Well," said Mrs. Harvey, "I have long indulged the hope of having a pic-nic party so perfectly arranged that nothing sliould go astray; and so far have I been from succeeding, that I really do think there never was a more unfortunate, irregular affair. I really do not know what to say, and I feel quite incompetent to preside. Mr. O'Gorman, as you have the happy knack of mak- ing the best of everything, I believe you are the person best qual- ified in this co.Tipany to make the most of the matter, and we must rely on your ingenuity." "Thank you, ma'am. That is as much as to say, 'Bob, as you have treated us to broken meat, and lost the knives and forks, you will please to carve !' Well, nabocklish, this isn't a ^ 64 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. round table, like Prince Arthur's, for it's little moi-e than half round, and we have old Howth at the head, and old Neptune at the foot of it; but, for the rest, we don't stand upon precedence, and therefore I need not change my place, to preside. Mr. Har- vey, I'll trouble you for the penknife — I l^eg pardon — the carver — Irem ! and that specimen of antediluvian cutlery, the '■ criihkcd ouIJ/ork.^ Thank you — shove over the beef now. Ods mar- row-bones and cleavers ! what a heap ! Gentlemen, you had better turn up your cuffs as a needful preliminary ; and, perchance, an ablution may also be necessary — you can get down to the water here, at this side." As soon as the parly had re-assembled, after having washed their hands, he again addressed them. "Mr. Sharpe and Mr. Harvey, will you please drag that tur- key asunder? Mr. O'Brien, will you tear a wing off that fowl for Miss O'Donnell ? Fitz, gnaw the cord off one of those ale bottles; draw the cork with your teeth, and send the bottle round. The corkscrew was with the knives." " Draw my teeth with the cork, you mean; I had rather knock off the neck, thank you," said Fitz, about to suit the action to the word. " No, no," cried Bob, "do you forget that we must drink out of the bottles; do you want the ladies to cut their pretty lips with the broken glass, you Mohawk ! Though, faith," said he, '_ in an undertone, to his fair companion, "I could almost wish such an accident to happen to some one that I know, that I might have an opportunity of exhibiting my devotion, by sucking the wound " "A prize! a prize!" cried he, jumping up and running a little distance. He returned with five or six Malahide oyster er- in to the hounds, and Andy's boldness in this capacity soon made him a favorite with the Squire, who scorned the attentions of a valet, and let any one that chance threw in his way bring his boots, or his hot water for shaving, or his coat whenever it was brushed. One morning, Andy, who was very often the attend- ant on such occasions came to his room with hot water. He tapped at the door. " Who's that ?" said the Squire, who had just risen. "It's me, sir." "Oh — Andy, come in." " Here's the hot water, sir," said Andy, bearing an enormous tin can. " \Miy, what the deuce brings that tin can here ? You might as well bring the stable bucket." "I beg you pardon, sir," said Andy, retreating. In two minutes more Andy came back, and tapping at the door, put in his head cautiously, and said "The maids in the kitchen, your honor, says there's not so much hot wather ready." " Did I not see it a moment since in your hand?" " Yes, sir, but that's not nigh the full o' the shtable-bucket." " Go along, you stupid thief! and get me some hot water di- rectly." "Will the can do, sir?" HANDY AKDy's LITTLE MISTAKES. 99 "Aye, anything, so make haste." Off posted Andy, and back he came with the can. "Where'll I put it, sir?" "Throw this out," said the Squire, handing Andy a jug con- taining some cold water, meaning the jug to be replenished 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 towld me to thi-ow 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 duty was "whipper-in," yet he was liable to be called on to attend 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 " mistress," or drove out the nurse and children on the jaunting car, and many were the mis- takes, delays or accidents that occurred. 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 astonished at the sight of the assembled glass and plate, that he stood with his mouth and eyes wide open, and scarcely heard a word that was said to him. After the head man had been dinning his in- structions into him for some time, he said he might go until his attendance 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. " Wliat are you looking at ?" said the butler. " Them things, sir," said Andy, pointing to some silver forks. **\Vhat tilings do you mean ?" "These things, sir," said Andy, taking up one of the silver lOO THE ZOZIHUS PAPERS. forks, and turning it round and round in his hand in utter aston- ishment, while the butler grinned at his ignorance, and enjoyed his own superior laiowledge. "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 hoarse laugh, and made a standing joke of An- dy's splitspcon ; 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 com- prehension — he used to hand cold plates for fish, and hot plates for jelly, etc. But "one day," as Zanga says, "one day " lie was thrown off his centre 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, and Andy had the luck to be the person to whom a gentleman applied for some soda-water. "Sir," said Andy. " Soda-water," said the guest, in that subdued tone in which people are apt to name their wants at the dinner-table. Andy went to the butler. "Mr. Morgan, there's a gintle- man — " "Let me alone, will you?" said Mr. Morg.an. Andy manceuvred 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 an' ax him," said Mr. Morgan. Andy went off as he was bidden, and came behind the thirsty gentleman's chair, with " I beg your pardon, sir." "Well," said the gentleman. " I Ijeg your pardon, sir, but what^s this you axed me for ?" " Soda-water !" "What, sir?" HANDY ANDYS LITTLE MISTAKES. lOl •' 9oda-^ater; 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 from you ! Can't you let me alone ?" "There's a gintleman wants some soap and wather." "Somewhat?" "Soap and wather, sir." " The sorrow sweep you ! soda-water, you mane. You'll get it imder the sideboard." " Is it in the can, sir ?" " No, you dhunderhead ! 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. foie wor in the bottom o' the say," said Mr. Morgan, who was fuming and puffing, 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 wont stand," said Andy, " sure them's what I said, with no bottoms to them. How'U I open it? It's tied down." "Cut the cord, you fool." Andy did as he was desired; and he happened at the time to hold 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- water, 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 th« hos- I02 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. tess at the head had a cold bath down her back. Andy, when he saw the soJa- water jumping out of the bottle, held it from him at arm's length; every fizz it made exclaiming, " Ow t — ow — ow !" and, at last, when the bottle was empty, he roared out, " Oh, Lord !— it's all gone !" Great was the commotion; few could resist laughter, except the ladies, -who all looked at their gowns, not liking the mixture of satin aad soda- water. The extinguished candles were re- lighted — 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 huried tone of deep anger, " 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 hap- pened. Andy was expelled the salle a manger, and when the butler held up Andy's ignorance to ridicule, by telling how he asked for " soap and wather," he was given the name of " suds," and was called by no other for months after. Even in his outdoor functions, Andy's evil genius haunted him, and he put his foot in a piece of business which was so simple as to defy almost the chance of Andy making any mis- take about it; but Andy was very ingenious in his own particu- lar line. " Ride into the 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 I'd find out, sir." " Didn't I often tell you to ask wliat you're to do, when you don't know ?" "Yes, sir." " And why don't you ?" HANDY ANDY'S LITTLE MISTAKES. IO3 •' I don^t like to be throublesome, sir. " " Confound you," said the Squire. " Well," continued he, " go to the post-office. You know the post-office, I suppose ?" "Yes, sir, where they sell gun-powdher. " "You're right for once. Go then to the post-office and ask for a letter for me. Remember — not gunpowder, but a letter." "Yes, sir," said Andy, who got astride of his hack, and trot- ted away to the post-office. On arriving at the shop of the post- master (for that person carried on a brisk trade in groceries, etc.), Andy preseuted himself at the counter and said, " I want a letther, if you plaze." "Who do you want it for?" said the postmaster, in a tone which Andy considered an aggression upon the sacredness of pri- vate life; so Andy, in contempt of the prying impertinence of the postmaster, repeated 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 told him he could not give him a letter till he gave the direction. " The directions I got was to get a letther here; that'sthe direc- tions." "Who gave you those directions?" "The masther." " And who's your master?" " What consam is that of yours ?" "Why, you stupid rascal, if you don't tell me his name how can I give you a letther?" " You could give it if you liked ; but you're fond of axin' im- pident 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 cess to your impidence," said Andy, " is it Squire Egan you dare say goose to?" "Oh, Squire Egan's your master, then?" I04 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. ** Yes ; have you anything to say agin it ?" ♦' Only that I never saw you before." •'Faith, thin, you'll never see me again, if I have meowncon- sdnt." "I won't give you any letter for the Squire, unless I know you're his servant. Is there any one in town knows you ?" "Plinty. It's not every one is as ignorant as you." Just at this moment a person to whom Andy was known came in, and vouched to the postmaster that he might give Andy the letter. " Have you one for me ?" "Yes, sir," said the postmaster, producing one — "four- pence." The gentleman paid the four-pence postage, and left the shop with his letter. " Here's a letter for the Squire," said the postmaster; " you've to pay me eleven -pence postage. ' ' "What ud I pay eleven-pence for?" "For postage." " To the puck wid you. Didn't I see you give Mr. Dunphy a letther for four-pence this minit, and a bigger letther than this ? and now you want me to pay eleven-pence for this scrap of a thing. Do you think I'm a fool ?" "No, but I'm sure of it," said the postmaster. "Well, you're welkum to be sure, sir — but don't be delayin' me now; here's four-pence for you, and gi' me the letther." " Go along, you stupid thief," said the postmaster, taking up the letter and going to serve a customer with a mouse-trap. Meanwhile Andy lounged up and down the shop, every now and then saying, "Will ye gi' me the letther?" He waited over half an hour, and left, when he found it impos- sible to get common justice for his master. The Squire in the mean time 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." " Who wouldn't give it to you ?" HANDY ANDV'S LITTLE MISTAKES, IO5 "Thatould chate beyant in the town — wantin' to charge double for it." "Maybe it's a douMe letter. WTiy didn't you pay what he asked, sir?" " Arrah, sir, why would I let you be chated ? It's not a double letther at all ; not above half the size o' one Mr. Dunphy got before my face for four-pence 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-office. When he arrived two other persons were getting letters, and the postmaster was selecting the epistles for each from a large par- cel; at the same time many shop customers were waiting to be served. •Tm come for that letther," said Andy. '* I'll attend to you by and by." "The masther's in a hurry." "Let him wait till his hurry's over." " He'll murther me if I'm not back soon." "I'm glad to hear it." Meanwhile 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 contrived to become possessed of two letters from the heap, and, having effected that, waited patiently enough till it was the great man's pleasure to give him the missive directed to his master. Then did Andy bestride his hack, and, in triumph at his trick on the postmaster, rattled along the road homewards, as fast as the beast could carry him. He came into the Squire's presence, his face beiming with delight, and an air of self-satisfied superi- ority in bis manner, quite unaccountable to his master, until he pulled forth his hand, which had been grubbing up his prizes from the bottom of his pocket, and holding three 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, exclaim- ing, "Well ! if he did make me pay eleven-pence, by gor, I broaght your honor the worth o' your money, anyhow." I06 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. PUSS IN BROGUES. At the foot of a hill, in a lonely district of the County Cork about a dozen miles from my native village, there lived, in old times, a poor man named Larry Roche. He was, they say, de- scended from that family of the Roches once so mighty in the south of Ireland, and some branches of which still retain a con- siderable degree of their former consequence and respectability. Poor Larry, however, although the blood of kings might flow through his veins, was neither rich nor respectable. Yet Larry was not discontented with his situation ; and, although some- times he might feel disposed to envy those on whom fortune smiled, yet, on cool reflection, he would console himself with the consideration that it was not every one was bom with a silver spoon in his mouth. Thus rolled away Larry's days in poverty and contentment. In the shooting season his time was occupied in following his master over heath and hillock with his game- bag on his shoulder, while the rest of his time was spent in chatting with the crones of the vicinity about his family connec- tions, or the fairies of Glendharig, or squabbling with his good woman and her young one.-j ; for Larry was married, and as his wife was exactly a counterpart of himself, every hour of course gave fresh cause for that bickering and disagreement so often the result of untimely and ill-assorted marriages. The only domestic animal in or about Larry Roche's cabin was a ferocious-looking old black tom-cat, far bigger and stronger than any cat ever seen in that part of the country. His fur was black, he had strong whiskers, his nails were like a tiger's, and at the end cf his tail was fixed a claw or "gafl" as sharp and hooked as a falcon 's beak ; his eyes also flashed by night with aa PUSS IN BROGUES. I07 appalling glare, and his cry was a savage howl, baffling all de- scription, and unlike any sound ever heard from any other ani- mal. He was as singular in his habits, too, as in his appearance. Me was never known to demand a morsel of food; and if offered any, he would reject it with indignation. Every evening at twi- light he left the fireside, and spent the night scouring over moor and heather, aild at daybreak would retuna from his foray, gain- ing access tluough the low chimney of the cabin, and be found in the morning in his usual position on the hob-stone. There he would sit fro:n morning till night; and when Larry and Betty and the " chlldre " were chatting in a group around the fire, the cat would watch them intently, and if the fiature of their conver- sation was such as to excite laughter or merriment, he would growl in a low tone, evidently dissatisfied; but if their dialogues were held in a jarring, angry strain, as sometimes happened, he would purr Ir.^arsely and loudly, whilst the wagging of his tail testified the pleasure he felt in their feuds and dissensions. The family had often been advised to make away with him, but super- stitious awe or family prejudice prevented them; and although the v>i?,ole neighborhood averred that "he was no right thing," yet IDT the reasons I have stated his owners could never be in- duced to make any attempt to banish or destroy him. One dreary evening in October, Larry returned from his day's wandering with the squire over the bleak bogs, and although it mined, and the wind blew bitterly, he appeared in much better spirits than was usual with him on similar occasions. His wife wondered, and made more than usual preparations to please him. She trimmed the fire, and assisted him in taking off his dripping clothes, and then commenced pouring out her sympathy for his sufferings. *' Oh, never mind," said Larry, " I have good news." " Arrah, sit down," said Betty, "and tell us what it is." Larry sat down, and putting his hand in his pocket, pulled out a glittering gold coin. "Arrah, Larry, avoumeen, what's that?" asked the woman. *'Faith, it's a rale yellow boy; a good goold guinea," replied Io8 THE ZOZrMUS PAPERS. Larry. *' The squire gev it to me, and tould me to buy a pair of brogucQ with it, and drink his health with the balance." "Och, musha ! then, long life to him," vociferated Betty; "and, Lari^y, a-hagur, will you buy the brogues?" " F;','x and I will," said Larry, " and another rattling pair for youi'scif, a-chorfa." "Ay, daddy, and another pair for me," shouted young Larry. "And another for me," cried Thady. "And another for me," chuckled Charley. " Ay, and two pair for me," cried the black cat, speaking in a wild, uneartlily tone from the hob-stone, and breaking forth into a horrible laugh. " The sorrow knock the daylights out of yez all," cried Larry, without seeming to take any notice of the strange circumstance, though his heart died within him with terror and surprise. " Lord have mercy on us!" faintly ejaculated Betty, signing her brow, whilst aH the children started up in terror, and ran be- hind their parents in the chimney-corner. All this time the cat remained silent on the hob; but his aspect, at all times terrible, now seemed perfectly monstrous and hideous. For some time a death-like silence was preserved, but at last Larry plucked up courage to address the speaking animal. " Li the name of God," he began, " what business have you with brogues?" " Ask me no questions," replied the cat, "but get me the brogues as soon as possible." "Oh, by all means," replied Larry, quite gently, "you must have them; and why did you not ask them long ago, and you should have got them?" "My time was not come," replied Puss, briefly. " Well," resumed Larry, " to-morrow is Sunday, and at day- break I will start off to my gossip, Phadruig Donovan's, in Mill Street, to engage the brogues; he is the best brogueniaker in the county, and he's my first gossip besides." " I know all that," said the cat, as he leaped up the cliimney, on his departure to the scene of his midnight wanderings. " Good PUSS IN BROGUES. IO9 night, Larry, and don't forget your engagement ;" and he disap- peared through the gathering gloom, to the great relief of poor Larry and his terrified family. That was a sad and uneasy night with poor Larry and his wife and children. They did not go to bed at all, but sat trembling at the fire, expecting every moment that the black imp would re- turn with legions of fiends to carry them away, body and bones, to the regions below. Numerous were the plans proposed for getting rid of their old companion, but all were rejected — some as inefficient, others as impracticable ; and the only point on which they could finally agree, was, that their days were numbered, and that perhaps before morning their blood would be streaming on the hearth-stone, and their souls wandering through mire and morass, the prey of troops of fiends. At last the morning dawned, and as Larry, disconsolately enough, was preparing to set forward on his journey to Mill Street, the cat jumped down the chimney, and took his usual place on the hob. "Well, I am going now," said Larry; "have you any direc- tions to give about the brogues ?" The cat did not reply, but uttered a hideous growl, which fell heavily on the poor fellow's heart; so, kissing his wife and child- ren, and commending them to the protection of God, he set out on his sorrowful journey. He had not gone far when he perceived through the dim gray of the morning a human figure approaching; and on advancing a little nearer, he found that it was a very old man, of extremely diminutive stature and forbidding aspect. He wore an old gray coat and an equally old woolen cap, and his thin white hair de- scended to his knees; he was bare-foot, and carried a wallcing- stick io his hand. " Good morrow, and God save you, Larry Roche," said the old man as he came up. " A bright morning to you," answered Larry. '* How is every rope's length of you, Larry, and how is the woman and the childre at home ?" demanded the stranger. no THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "Fane, purty well, considherin'," replied Larry ; "but you have a great advantage of me." " How's that?" said the old man. ••Why, because you know me so well, while I have no more knowledge of you than of the man in the moon." "Och, I'd know your skin in a tan-yard," said the old chap, laughing. " But is it possible you don't know me ?" " Faix, if God Almighty knows no more about you than I do, the devil will have a prey of you one of these days," replied Larrys "Well, say no more about that," said the old fellow, rather angrily. "But where are you going this blessed Sunday morn- ing, Larry?" "To Mill Street," said Larry. •'All the ways — musha! what's taking you to Mill Street, Larry ?" "My feet and my business," said Larry, something piqued at the old fellow's inquisitive importunity. "You are very stiff this morning, Larry," said the stranger with a grin. •'I am worse than that," said the poor fellow; "the heart within me is sick and sore." •' And what troubles you now, Larry?" Larry hereupon told the whole of his strange misfortunes to the stranger, ending with a deep " ochonc," and wishing, if it was the will of God, that "his four bones were stretched in the church-yard of Kilebawn." "You'll \k there time enough for your welcome, maybe," said the old chap, "but that's neither here nor there. What will you do with the black cat?" " Och, sweet bad luck to all the cats alive, both black and wjiile," imprecated Larry. "That cat's a devil — a fiend," said the stranger; "and more than that, he intends to murder you and your family this very night." Larry groaned, whilst the stranger's hideous countenance was convulsed with half-suppressed laughter. PUSS IN BROGUES, III **Well, Larry," said he again, " I am your friend, and I have power to save you and yours, on one condition; and that is, that you will stop up the window in the back wall of your cabin." " Faith and I'll do that with a heart and a half," said Larry ». "But what do you want that for?" "I'll tell you that another time," said the little man. " Go home now, and say you can't proceed to Mill Street with- out taking the wife and children with you, to leave tl.e measure of their feet for the brogues. Tell the cat also that he must come too, to have his fit taken ; then tie him up in a bag, and bring him with you; fasten this hair around your neck," added the old man, at the same time extracting a single white hair from his head, " and all the imps of hell cannot hurt you. But mind and don't open your lips from the time you leave home till you come to this spot; and when you arrive here with the cat, sit down and wait the event." A thick fog now suddenly rose, and the old man was hidden fixnn the sight of Larry, who, greatly overjoyed, returned to his cabin to execute the orders he had got, and was met by his wife, who was trembling for his safe return, but did not expect him sooner than night. "Musha! Larry agragal, you're welcome," she exclaimed; "and what in the name of God turned you back?" ♦'I am coming for you and the gorsoons; you must all come to Mill Street to have your measure taken for the brogues." " And must I go too ?" asked the cat. "Faix you must," said Larry; "if natural Christians couldn't be fitted without bein' on the spot, it's hard to expect that you could." " And how am I to travel ?" he asked. "In the bag on my back," replied Larry. "I'll whip you through tho country like a dinner to a hog, and man or mortal shall never be the wiser, if the broguemaker keeps his tongue quiet." " I'll CO bail he will," said Puss, " for I'll kill him the very night the brogues is brought home." 112 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. " Lord tave mercy en him !" ejaculated Larry, his heart sink- ing within him. " Pray for yourself — maybe you want mercy as well as him," said the cat. The preparations were soon completed, and the cat being put in- to the bag, Larry tied the mouth of it firmly with a piece of cord, and thert slung it on his shoulder; and, after acquainting his wife with his adventure with the old man on " Moin-more, " he de- parted, whistling the air of " Thamama Thulla." He soon gained the spot where he had parted with the old man, and looking round and perceiving nobody, he sat down on the green fern, still holding the bag which contained his terrible fcUow-traveller. " Whatstops you, Larry ?" asked the cat. Larry recollecting the old man's injunction, spoke not, but con- tinued whistling, " Does anything ail you, Larry ?" •'Whoo, hoo, phoo, hoo — Thamemo Chodladh." " Is Betty and the childre to the fore ?" " Thamemo Chodladh." "Bad cess to you and your 'Thamemo Chodladh,' " cried the cat. "That the prayers may fall on the preacher," said Larry to himself. The cat now began to make desperate efforts to escape from the bag, whilst Larry redoubled his exertions to detain him. His attention, however, was soon airested by the cry of hounds, and on looking westward, he perceived, rapidly approaching over the morass, a big black horse, and accompanied by a numerous pack of black dogs. "Ochone," thought Larry, "now I am coached of all ever happened me. Here is the chap's black friends coming to rescue him, and they won't leave a toothful a-picce in my carcass." "Let me go, Larry," said the cat, "let me go, and I'll show yoU where there's a cart-load of gold buried in the ground." But Larry remained silent, and meantime the horseman and hounds came up. PUSS IN BROGUES. UJ **Good morrow and good luck, Larry Roche," said the black equestrian, wilh a grim smile. "Good morrow, kindly," said Larry. "Is that a fox you have in the bag, Larry?" " No, in troth," said Larry, " though I believe he is not much honester than a foX." "I must see what it is, anyhow," said the sable horseman, with a gesticulation which convinced Larry at once that he was the fellow he Ijad seen before. So Larry opened the bag, and out jumped Puss, and away with him over the bog like a flash of lightning. The wild huntsman . hallooed his dogs, and the pursuit commenced, but the cat was soon surrounded and torn to pieces. "Now," said the horseman, "I must bid you fdl-ewell;" and off he went; and then Larry returned home with the happy tidings, and the squire's guinea was spent in the purchase of sundry bottles of " Tom Corcoran's " best potteen; but we must do Larry the justice to say that his agreement with the old man was punctually performed, and the back window stopped as effectually -as mud and stones could do it. A few nights after, Larry was aroused from his sleep by the merry tones of bagpipes at his fireside, and getting up he per- ceived the Idtchen illuminated with a bright, reddish glare, whilst on the hob-stofle he saw, snugly seated, the ever-remembered little old man, playing a set of bagpipes, to the delightful tones of which hundreds of little fellows with red caps and red small clothesAvere capering about the floor. ♦'God bless the man and the work," said Larry; " and warm work yez have ov it this hour ov the night." The little fellow hereupon set up a shout, and rushing to the door, flew through it, one of them striking poor Larry a box on the right eye, which blinded it. "Goodnight, Misthur Larry," said the piper; "and how is your four bones? and how is the good woman that owns you?" " Och, no fear at all ov the woman," replied Larry; " and as for my bones, they are well enough; but, faith, my right eye, I believe, is in whey in my head." ^14 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. : "Well, it will teach you how to speak to your betters in iiiture," said the little piper; "never mintion the holy name again, when talking to the 'good people.' "But, Larry, listen : I'll now tell you why I wanted you to stop up your back window. " You must know that this cabin of yours stands on the middle of a fairy pass. We often come this way in our wanderings through the air in cold nights, and often we wished to warm ourselv^ at your fireside; but as there was a window in the back of your cabin, we had not power to stop, but were com- pelled to pursue our journey. Now that the window is stopped, we can come in and remain as long as we wish, and resume our journey through the door by which we enter. We pass this way almost ever/'hight, and you need never feel in the least appre- hensive of injury so long as you let us pursue our pastimes undis- turbed." "I'U be bound me ermine shall never annoy one of yez," said Larry. "That's a good fellow, Larry," said the little chap; "and now take those pipes and play us a tune.'' " Och, the devil a chanter I ever fingered," said Larry, " since I was christened." " No matter," said the little fellow; " I'll go bail you'll play out of the soot." Larry "yoked" on the pipes, and lilted up in darling style a merry tune, whilst the old chap was ready to split with laughing. • " What's the name of that tchune ?" said Larry. " Caiih-na-bro^ueen," replied the fairy piper; "a tune I com- posed in memory of your escape from the cat; a tune that will soon become a favorite all over Munster." Larry handed back the pipes; the little man placed them in a •red bag, and, bidding his host "good night," dashed up the chimney. The next night, and almost every following night, the din of feiry revels might be beard at Larry Roche's fireside, and Larry PUSS IN BROGUES. IIJ himself was their constant companion in their midnight frolics. He soon became the best performer on the bagpipes in the south of Ireland, and after some time surrendered his cabin to the sole occupation of the "good people," and wandered with his family through all the Munster counties, and was welcome, and kindly treated wherever he came. After some time, the cabin from neglect fell, and offered no further impediment to the fairy host in their midnight wanderings, whilst Larry followed a life of pleasure and peace, far from the scene of his former perils and privations. The cat, of course, was never seen after; but the peasantry of the neighborhood say that the screams of the infernal fiend^ mingled with the deep bowlings of hell-hounds and the savage- yellings of the sable hunter, may be distinctly heard in horrid chorus amongst 'ie fens and morasses of the broad Moin-more. :U6 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. THE WISE SIMPLETON. A veiy long time ago, somewhere in the western part of the province of Munster, lived, in a small and wretched cabin, a poor widow, named Modreen Mera. She had three sons, two of whom were fine young men; but the third — and of him we shall soon hear a good deal — thoagh strong and active, was of a lazy dis- position, which resulted, as his mother at least always thought, not so much from any fault of his own, as from his natural fool- ishness of character; in fact, she really considered him as of that class called iji Ireland " naturals." But before we say anything of the tlurd son, let us trace the histories of his two elder brothers. Now the first, whose name was Mihal More, or Michael Big Fellow, never let his mother rest one moment imtil she had con- sented to his star'aDg, in order that he might, as he said, should he fall in \n£b. a good master, return, and perhaps make her com- fortable for tlic remainder of her days. To this plan, after much hesitation, Moireen Mera at length agreed, and the day was fixed by Mihal for starting. "And, mother," said he, "though you have but little left, and it is wrong to deprive you of it, if you woit/d hut bake me a fine cake of wheaten bread, and if you cotM hut spare me one of the hens — ah ! that would \x too much to ask ! — against the long road; could you, mother?" " Why not, Midhael? I could never refuse you anything; and you will want the cake and hen badly enough. And, Mihal avick asthord ! if you s/iouhl ever meet one of the good people, or anything you may think isnU right, pass it by, and say not a word." THE WISE SIMPLETON. II7 It was evenlag when he began his expedition, nor did he stop on the road till daylight returned, when he found himself in the cen- tre of a wood, and very faint and hungry. Seeing a convenient- looking rock nfar a place where he thought it most probable he should find waier, he sc.\ted himself, with the intention of satisfy- ing his hunger and tliirst. He had not been many moments engaged in eating some of his bread, and had just commer^c-ed an attack on the hen, by taking off one of her wings, when there came up to him a poor grey- hound, which looked the very picture of starvation. Greyhounds are proverbially thin, but this was thinner than the thinnest, and, it was easy to see, had doubtlessly left at home a very large family. Mihal More was so very intent on eating that he heeded not the imploring look of the poor greyhound, and it was not till, wonderful to say, she addressed him in intelligible Irish, that he deigned to notice her. But when the first word came from her mouth, he was sure she must be one of those against anycommu- nicatioj with whom his mother had so emphatically warned him, and ac?oordingly determined to apply her maxim strictly to the occurrence. "You ar« a traveller, I see," said the greyhound, "and were doubtless weary and fainting with hunger when you took your seat here. I afn the mother of a numerous and helpless family, who aK-«cveD now clamorous for subsistence; this I am unable to afford them, unless I am myself supported. You have now the means. Afford it to me, then, if only in the shape of a few of tlie hen's small bones; I will be forever grateful, and may perhaps hz the means of serving you in turn when you most want end loast expect it." Eut Mi'.i.'J continued sedulously picking the bones, and when he had fini°-hed, he put them all back into his wallet, still re- solving to b;ive nothing to do whatever with this fairy, repre- sented, as he imagined, by the greyhound. " Weil !" said she piteously, " since you give iie nothing, fol- low me. You are perhaps in search of service ; my master, who knowg not my iaculty of speech, lives near; he may assist you. Il8 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. And see," continued she, as he followed, " heliold that well. Had you relieved me, it was in my power to have changed its contenbi, which are of blood, to the finest virgin honey; but the honey is beneath the blood, neither can it now be changed ! However, try your fortune, and if you are a reasonably sensible fellow, I may yet relent, and be reconciled to you." Mibal still answered not a word, but followed the greyhound, until she came to the gate of a comfortable farmer's residence. She entered the door, and Mihal saw her occupy her place at the side of the nre, and that she was quickly besieged by a num- ber of clamorous postulants, whose wants she seemed but poorly adequate to supply. At a glance he perceived that the house contained a master and a mistress; but an old lady in the chimney comer, having by her a pair of cratches, made him quail, by the sinister expres- sion of her countenance. Still, nothing daunted, he asked the master of the house at once for employment. "Plenty of employment have I, friend, and good wages," an- swered he, " but I am a manof a thousand; and I may also say, not one man in a thousand will stop with me in this house." " Aud may I ask the reason of this, sir ?" said Mihal, taking off his hat respectfully. «' I will answer you immediately; but first follow me into rty garden. There," said he, pointing to aheap of bones which lay bleaching on the ground, ^^t/icy are the bones of those unfortu- nate persons wlio have followed in my service; if now, therefore, you should so wish, you have my full permission to depart un- hurt; if you will brave them, hear now the terms on which I must bo servetl." "Sir," answered Mihal, "you surprise me. I have travelled far, have no money, neither any more to eat; say, therefore, your terms; and If I can at all reconcile myself to them, I am prepared to stop here." " You must understand, then," said the farmer, " that I hold my lands by a very unusual tenure. This is not my fault. How- ever, you will find me an indulgent master to you, at all events; THE WISE SIMPLETON. II9 for, in fact, you may chance to be my master as much as I yours, or perhapshis cap and tore it in two halves, and commences to boo-hoo and cry at a great rate. " 'What were you scufHing v.'ith that girl for, you young rascal ?' says Father Kinsella. 154 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. " 'Oh! your reverence, boo-hoo, boo-hoo,' sobs Garret, show- ing his torn hat, 'she tore my new hat, your reverence, that cost me half my week's wages, boo-hoo; and I was just gohig to — boo-hoo — to — oh, your reverence, she's always up to such tricks, boo-hoo, and I was just going to^wo-hoo — to — to—' " ' To kiss her for doing it, you rascal. Inside, you're a disgrace to the house. If ever I find you attempting that again on the public road I'll horsewhip you soundly.' " ' Then I may in the house, your reverence, boo-hoo.' " 'Inside, you rascal,' and he gives him a slash ; but I heard that he was laughing all day in his study, and Garret got a new hat the next day." "What did you tear the boy's hat for, Moya?" "You'll have to get Garret another hat, Moya." " What'U you tell his reverence about the hat, Moya?" "But that was a queer trick, Moya." " Oh, leave poor Moya alone," says the vanU/iec; "maybe you don't all wish your hats were torn, and that into smithereens, too." Well, boys, such was the sport and the stories told at many a dance in Ireland, and told to-day, aye, perhaps this very evening, in your native land. Pretty soon the sport was getting glorious; the fiddle couldn't go fast enough; the boys were all saucy, and tlie girls were getting high-toned and disdainful, excejit when a good joke would be told, and then they'd have to laugh; the old men got in the comer again and commenced talking about " Dan " once more, and the whole of us were in the height of our glory, when there came a thundering rap at the door, and we were all as still as mice around a cheese, for there seemed to be tlirouble and danger in the knock. " Who's there?" says the vanilkec. "Open the door immediately," says the voice. "Not till I know what you want," says the good woman. " Open this door, woman," says t'.ie one without, and he pushed in an umbrella through the chink, and then indeed we all got sick at heart, for we knew Father Kinsella's umbrella well, every one of us, and felt it, maybe, too; and Malachy Du.T peeps out of the window and he cries out : A DANCE AT PAT MALONE S. 1 55 **Down with the lights, boys, down with them. There's Father Kinsella outside and two curates with him. Oh ! what an unlucky night. Down with the lights, or he'll see each of us and we all will be mentioned from the altar." In a minute the lights were down and out, and we were all in the other room, and under chairs and tables and beds; for every one thought it would be most terrible if his reverence saw him above all the others. I was under a table on one side of the room, and Ned Murphy beside me. Monica was in the other room, and dear knows where they all scrooged off to^ but there was no one left outside but Malone, his wife and little Athanasius Ryan, the schoolmaster. It was pitch dark, for the liglits were all out and the candles made off with. It was a ter- rible moment, and the vanithce was in great distress; you could hear your heart beat, and in the other room they were trybg to open the window softly and escape in silence. "Patrick Malone," says his reverence, "what do you mean by having a dance in your house on New Year's night, and I ex- pressly forbidding it ?" "Wliat dance, your reverence? sure, there's no sign of a dance here anyway." "Stop! do not attempt to prevaricate and make the matter worse. Liglit the lights till we see the offenders; I think there must be some of your parish here, too. Father McEvoy," say she to the priest with him. "I haven't the least doubt," says Father McEvoy and some- how or other the voice seemed very familiar to me. " Quick, light the lights, Patrick," says Father Kinsella. " Well, your reverence, you see — " says the vmiitliee. " Do what I tell you without an instant's delay." " But, your reverence, they've stole the candles." "Father McEvoy and I must see the delinquents. Quick, a light;" but he knew h; couldn't get one for all the gold in Guinea. "Quick," says Father McEvoy, "a light, I must look after my parish," and the voice seemed olJ to me some way. So I waited a minute to make sure. 156 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. " Father Kinsella," says he again, "does the woman refuse to obey your commands ?" I was sure. So I caught a little glimpse of the face in a stray bit of moonshine, and I whispers to Ned Murphy: "Ned! Ned ! it's Master Tom. He's got his friends with him playing us a trick; and they've stolen Father Kinsella's clothes." We were sure in a minute, and Ned had a stray bit of candle he secured in the mess. In a twinkling we lit it and jumped up. " Ah ! Master Tom, we caught you, wc caught you. Ah ! but you're up to a trick with your cape and hat. Ah ! you're caught, for all your umbrella." "What", man," says he, "do you dare to refuse — " and then he had to laugh; but in a minute he blew out the light in Ned's hand and was just making for the door; but I soon stopped that little game, and then indeed they all trooped from the other room, under tables and beds and chairs, the loft, closets and all over. Tlie candles were soon lit, and there, boys, we had Master Tom and his two friends prisoners in the midst of us, and to tell you the truth they seemed to enjoy the imprisonment too. Well, then we formed great schemes for their punishment. Everybody had something to say, and each one thought that surely his punishment would be the hardest and most good- natured one that could be devised. "Make them dance with every girl in the room," says one. "Make them drink all the poteen," says another; but few favored tJiat. " Put tliem on the table as kings," says another. " And tie their hands behind their backs." "Make Master Tom play the fiddle." "Oh! by all means." "Tobesure." "Certainly." "Why not?" " Put him on the table." "Give his friend the rosin, and Peter Kinsella the hat." "Agreed, agreed." "Up with them." "Put them on the table." A DANCE AT PAT M ALONE S. 1 57 "Now, then, Master Tom, the wind that shakes the 'barley.' " " The fox-hunter's jig," ♦•Garryowen." ** Patrick's day." " Irish washerwoman." " Arrah, now boys and girls, give him time to draw his breath and he'll give you all the tunes together with one scrape of the bow, won't you, Master Tom?" says the vanithee. " To be sure I will, and half a dozen more for good measure," says Master Tom. And so, not to keep you waiting any longer, up they put him on the table, and Master Tom took the fiddle, his fnend rosined the bow, and they gave the fiddler's hat to Peter Khisella to gather up the change in. And maybe Master Tom couldn't play — whisht ! You'd know how to dance immediately, as sooa as you heard him, even if you never saw a jig before in your life ; and it would make your heart cry tears of joy and laughter to sec Peter Kinsella going round with the hat among us; and maybe it wasn't well filled — because, you see, we were all having such fun on account of our near losing it all, and whenever yiju're near losing anything that you get a new grasp on, it's twice as sweet as before, as, indeed, I needn't tell you, because you must all know it from experience. Well, of course, there was great talk about the fright we were all in. " Did you see Darby Duff getting under the vcOiithec^s thimble, boys ? Sure, if the rest of him got in, the brogues would stick out, anyhow." "Ay !" says Darby, "but you got into the closet yourself so as to be near your dearest friend, the poteen; but yon take it to heart a great deal — almost as much as to stomach." "How careful you were, Thade," says another, "thatMoya wouldn't be seen. Sure, when Garret hears that — " "Ah! boys, did you see himself?" says Thade; "sure, I thought we'd be all discovered, your lobster nose shone so much in the dark." Well, such was the talk among us all, and for about ten minutes 158 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. we were in great confusion, and there was tlie greatest hubbub — every one laughing and talking, blaming others, praising him- self, the girls all animation and the boys all spirits, Pat and his cronies laughing and saying that it reminded them of when they were young gaffers themselves. Well, we were all re^-'ly just for a renewal of the dance. Master Tom was on the Uible striking up a tune, and Peter Kinsella was just emptying the hat in the fiddler's lap, when the door, which by ill luck we fcr^ot to bar the second time, was opened, and who stalks in liut Father Kin- sella himself, as large as life, and his forehead like an August thunder-cloud. There wasn't an instant to blaw out a light, or to Scrooge away in a corner, but there we stood, looking as dreary and as guilty as a pair of cocks fighting in the rain. Ob I but we were terror-stricken; and when Father Kinsella looked round his eye grew flashy. "What do you mean," says he, " assembling here on this holy night, and profaning this great feast of God's Church by disturb- ing the stillness of the night with your drunken revelry ?" " Oh ! Father Kinsella ! drunk — sorra one of us," we all cried out together. Well, boys, just then he cast his eyes around, and whom should he see but his own nephew, with the fiddler's hat in his hand, and Master Tom on the table, with the fiddle to his shoul- der. Well, the look he put on — Virgil couldn't describe, as Athanasius Ryan said (how could he, sure he never saw Father Kinsella). Well, he wanted to be fiercer than ever, and spite of all he could do he had to smile; and then Master Tom looked at him and laughed, and sure he had to laugh too; and when he saw his own cape, hat and umbrella with Peter Kinsella he burst out into a roar; but, for all that, he remembered his duty, so up he takes his umbrella and told us all to go home. Says he: " Go home peaceably, now, every one of you, and Fll forgive you all, for sure my own nephew encourages you; but let me never hear of such a thing again. Remember that, and let it sink deep into your hearts." "Oh, your reverence, never again in all our lives." A DANCE AT PAT MALONE S. 1 59 "That will do now; go home — no nonsense," for he knew we couldn't keep such a promise if we tried ever so hard. "Oh, thank you, Father; sure we'll always remember it." "Never fear us, your reverence, sorra dance — " " Never in my house again, your reverence — ' ' "Home with you all, quick; and as for you three gentlemen, come and walk over a piece with me — " "Oh! Father, forgive them." "Forgive them, your rev- erence; sure, 'twas only a little sport on their part—" " Ah, do. Father Ivinsella; sure they'll never do it again — " " Home out of this, every one of you, or this will not be the end of it. Home, quickly, every one of you, or maybe it's mention you I would." Well, off we went all home, and sure by the time Monica, Ned and myself got back it was very early, and says the Widow Walsh to me: "And what brought you home so early?" " Well, ma'am," says I, " you see I forgot to feed Katy when I left, and sure it lay heavy on my mind, and I thought I'd come home and not leave the poor beast without her supper on my ac- count." "And you, Mcnica?" "Well, ma'am, sure I was afraid I hadn't set the dough for the baking, and as James was coming back, I thought I'd come with him and make sure." " And you, Ned, what brought^'^?^ home so early ?" " Why — because, ma'am, the others came home, and I didn't want to come home alone any later for fear of the fairies, as they do say there's a power of them abroad to-night." " But sure you're getting very timorous, Ned," says the widow, " and I am very glad to see you other two so tender for the wel- fare of the house. That will do now; you can go." A little later the boys came in with Father Ivinsella, and such laughing as w.as in the parlor you never heard the like of before. And sure who was it but the widow who put the boys up to the sport, and then sent word to Father Kinsella of a dance over at l6o THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. Pat Malone's; and sure didn't she confess, and it was a quite thing all round, anyhow. When Monica went up Tvith some re- freshments, they asked her was " the bread set yet?" and if '* Ned saw any fairies by the rath ?" but they guessed she was the only one herself. Well, from that day till 1 left Ireland, five years come next Michaelmas, I never heard Master Tom called anything by his college friends but " Father McEvoy," and, per- haps, occasionally " Fiddler Tcaru" MIKE DRISCOLL AND THE FAIRIES. l6l MIKE DRISCOLL AND THE FAIRIES. The picturesque village of Castleconnell lies on the banks of the Shannon, about six miles above Limerick. A lovelier habi- tation could scarcely be chosen by the most enthusiastic admirer of decaying art and perennial nature. The surrounding district is thickly strewn with the remains of castles, fortresses, and churches, each shrined in the mellow twilight of its own legend ; whilst the gently undulating country is belted and darkened with fragments of forest, and overtopped by the bluest of mountains. The noble river itself flows past the village, a quarter mile in breadth, by quaintly-mossed and water-stained weirs, over which the salmon leaps, at times, high in the air, like a sudden gust of jewels; by conical-roofed, old-fashioned mills, whose crooked windows and high gables blend in mai-vellous harmony with the character of the surrounding landscape ; and by pleasant cottages, where peasant girls still sit and sing at the threshold, and the spinning-wheel hums flaxen-toned ditties in the summer weather. Leaving the village, the mighty stream sweeps with a curved rush around the gentle promontory on whose height the castle of the O'Briens still stands in desolate magnificence; and thence, with many a bend, round green elbows of scented wood- land and pastoral peninsulas, dotted with dreamy Cuyp-like cat- tle, towards Doonas. The fall in the bed of the river at this point is considerable. The narrow channel is nearly blocked up by huge boulders, overgrown with citron-colored flora, from whose fissures spring the slender hazel and the flowing elder; and over and around them rushes the great torrent of waters, churning itself into vast cauldrons of boiling foam and clouds of mist ; subsiding here and there into weltering pools of flaky emerald. To the l6z THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. right, the bank rises to the height of seventy feet; and viewed from this elevation, the spectacle presented by the Calls is one of terrific beauty. Right and left, as far as the eye can penetrate, the river appears to be lashed into a white fury, and sends up a roar which may be heard at a distance of six miles in calm weather. The low shores at the opposite side are buried in the thickest foliage, whilst if the spectator can lean over the cliff on which he stands, he sees but a precipitous wall of rock, which falls with plummet-like sheerness into the raging torrent beneath. The spot has many associations. Some years ago, a lady of high rank attempted to cross the falls at midnight, in order to be pres- ent at a ball given at the residence of a gentleman of fortune on the other siJe. A brave fisherman undertook to convey her across; but he and his fair charge perished in the perilous enter- prise. A month after the tragic occurrence, her body was dis- covered floating some miles further down the river, the bracelets on her wrists and the jewels of her hair matted with water- weeds. The peasantry assert that on the anniversary of her death, wail- uig voices*ascend from the falls, and a spectral lady is seen drift- ing seaward with the current. On the highest part of the bank are the ruins of a castle, evidently of modem erection. It is staled that the building was burned, by orders of its owner, for the express purpose of heightening the poetical character of the scenery, by adding a picturesque ruin to its other attractions. Then there is an ancient well, enclosed in an oblong of Druidical oaks; and there are raths, and nine-men-morris circles, where the lusmore flourishes, and the genial fairies of the place dance jocund measures in the blinking starlight. It was the morning of Christmas, 17 — . The winter had been unusually clement, for the sycamores still retained a remnant of yellowing foliage, and the frosts were so light that they scarcely crisped the short meadow-grass. The day was brisk and spark- ling, and before noon the mists, which had hung over the falls since daylight, were dissipated by the sun and a low breeze from the south. Tlie blackbird felt the time so pleasant that he puffed Jus golden throat, and whistled the first bars of a spring-tide carol ; MIKE DrvISCOLL AND THE FAIRIES. 1 63 the effort naturally provoked the emulative disposition ofliis rival, the thrush, who, however, broke down in the effort only to hear the crystal twitter of the robin from a neighboring: spray of holly. The Driscoll family, as they sat at breakfast, insensible, it must he confessed, to the vocal competition which had just taken place, felt that the season was mild, that the air was delicate, and the oaten bread delicious. So the lightest joke, tiie most trifling quil- let, excited a fit of hearty laughter, with cries of " Tisn't half your best," "Arrah, what'il he say next?" and other compli- mentary incentives to the rustic humor. The house occupied by the DriscoUs was a large and respecta- ble residence for a middle-class farmer of the period. It had two stories; and, though the walls were seldom whitened, and the sashes and panes exhibited uncomfortable ventilating tendencies, the coat of thick thatch which shielded the roof, and the tufts of smoke which ascended from the chimneys, lent it an air of cozy indolence that was far from being disagreeable. As for its posi- tion, it defied criticism. It was a grassy eminence, which sloped to the river edge, and caught the last foam-wreaths that were hurled downward from the falls. From the upper windows of the house one could obtain a good view of the "Jumping Hole," as it is called, and a goodly prospect of the rock-chafed river. Driscoll, senior, whom we do not pretend to quote as an author- ity on situation, was often heard to declare, that " all Ireland couldn't bate that spot for convanience, " and further, that a look at it on a heavy morning was " worth fifty pounds a year to a gauger." The family group assembled at breakfast on the eventful Christ- mas morning we write of, consisted of old Denis Driscoll, his wife and his two sons. Of John, the elder son, it would be hard to say much, as his character was of that negative description which offers little to the observer. Shrewd, acth'e and laborious, he was a faithful and valuable helper on the fj,r:n on* week days, and " an out-and-out buckeen " on Sundays and holidays. Mike was the family genius; he drank more, danced more, and sang more than all his relatives put together. He never missed a fair 164 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. or a pattern; he was the heavy man at all the local wocliiogs, an indispensable assistant at the wakes, and the very dctit-e at "a thrial of short-stick." To see Mike was to see the embodiment of humor. When he laughed his ^ffaw could be heard over a meadow; his mouth would roll back displaying a double line of shining teeth; his black eyes would literally fl.ash Vilh enpyment, and every muscle of his face contributed .sonte odd wrinkle or cunnmg fissure to intensify the jollity of his expression. Of Mike's good nature no one was ever known to venture a doubt — his generosity was only limited by his ability; for he was always willing to oblige a friend with the loan of a shilling or the crack of a cudgel, as circumstances required. It is to be deeply re- gretted, that to all these shining qualities Mike did not unite pro- found religious principles. Not that his morals were ordinarily lax; but he had a constitutional passion for the open air, which occasionally induced him to neglect the solemn duties of religion. Then, Mike had been inoculated at an early stage of his career with a fancy for card-playing, and was often known to sit up four-and-twenty hours without winking, at his favorite amuse- ment. When the family went to chapel on Sunday, Mike would invariably say, "Go on, father; I'll overtake ye — believe mc, I'll overtake ye." But he seldom fulfilled his promise, preferring rather to turn into a deserted lime-kiln, which lay at a stone's throw from the rear of the house, where he met with a group of choice spirits, with whom he gambled till dinner-time. "What are you dramin' iv, Mike?" asked old DriscoU, eye- ing his son, who appeared to have fallen into a brown study. " Eh, what are you dramin' iv ? Some misforthunate caper, I'll go bail ?" "Musha, father, as ye're curious to know what, I'll tell you. I'm dramin' of nothin' at all, at all, so I am." " Wid the blessin' of God," observed Mrs. DriscoU, "he's thinkin' of goin' with us to-day instead of playin' cards. Won't you, Mike ?" "Yes," said Mike. "I'll just go and make myself a thrifle dacent, and then I'll be wid ye." MIKE DRISCOLL AND THE FAIRIES. 165 So saying, Mr. Michael Driscoll rose and climbed the stairs to an upper room for the purpose of refreshing his toilet. His bro- ther, it will be remembered, was a buckeen ; but Mike had an in- tellectual contempt for the proprieties of costume, wliicli no fra- ternal example, however brilliant, was capable of correcting. He hated shiny hats, despised cravats, repudiated broadcloth, but held buckskin in healthy esteem. Consequently when Mike, " a thrifle dacent," presented himself before his family, and an- nounced himself ready, his attire was more picturesque than ele- gant. It consisted, if we may descend to details, of buckskin knee-breeches, blue stockings, and brogues; his coat, which was furnished with a cape, descended almost to his heels. On his head he carried a beaver hat, slightly indented about the middle; and the whole was completed by the addition of a coarse shirt, fastened at the throat with a large brass button. In this inven- tory we have purposely omitted mention of his stick — a short, thick ash cutting, which had performed several curious surgical operations in the hands of its owner, and is therefoi'e entitled to a distinct sentence. All being in readiness, old Driscoll mounted a favorite gray mare, and his wife was placed on a pillion behind liim; the buc- keen rode a blood horse borrowed from a neifj'.i!>or; and poor Mike a one-eyed mule, which he aptly described as " the most cantankerous baste in creation." The little cavalcade set out slowly for the chapel, about three miles distant; and it was evi- dent from the radiant looks of Mrs. Driscoll and the jaunty air of her husband that both were delighted at getting ]!irilce, at long last, on the high road to duty. The road lay in part through a dense- ly-grown shrubbery, whence it turned off, at a sharp angle, and emerged on the open country. As old Driscoll jogged along, a sudden impulse caused him to look in the direction of the farm house. A quick exclamation of surprise passed his lips. "Mike, avick," he shouted with considerable energy; "ride back as fast as the mule's legs will carry you; the pigs are puUin' the whate in the haggard — bad luck to them, an' the Lord forgive me." l66 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "Bad scannin' to them," said Mrs. Driscoll, "they're the quarest pigs I ever seen. \Vhate, indeed ! 'twould sarve them right if it choked them." Mike cast a rapid glance at the haggard, and sure enough there were the whole litter, with the sow at their head, poking their noses into the corn-stacks, and munching the precious grain as only pigs and aldermen can munch. To turn back the mule's head and urge her to a canter was the work of a moment. " Don't lose no time, agrah," shouted his mother, as he rode off to arrest the work of demolition. "Honor bright, mother," replied Mike, and without further parley he provoked the mule into a gallop. On reaching the house he jumped over the haggard fence, and contrived, with the assistance of his stick, to disperse the offending animals. Having secured the gate, he looked around for the mule, but that quad- ruped, being inclined to excursiveness, had wandered from the road, and was disporting himself in a piece of ploughed land to the north of the farm. To make matters worse, Mike found it impossible to catch him. The cunning beast eluded every at- tempt which his owner made to capture his reins, and led him such a dance through the soft loam that the latter was obliged to sit down, defeated. After some time he rose, and was making his way to the road, when the hum of well-known voices from the other side of the ditch reached his ear; and before he could fly, a number of young men, dressed in the provincial holiday gear, leaped into the field, and stood l)efore him. "AiTah, then, isityerself? and my Christmas-box on you," said Jerry Toomey. " Is it huntin' the wran all alone you were, and the two best fivers in the country goin' to try it out at the kiln?" Mike laughed a good-natured laugh, and shook his head. " Maybe he's goin' coortin'," observed Tom Delany. "See how nate he looks, scooped out to the nines, as the man said to the new piggin. I'd l)et ye a fi'penny bit, boys, he'd be ashamed to walk with us — wouldn't he, Tony ?" MIKE DRISCOLL AND THE FAIRIES. 1 67 The individual addressed as Tony, a little fat man, dressed in a faded hunting suit, hsre walked up to Miks, and, having made a circuit around him, clapped his handj ia affected astonishment. "Why thin, Mike," asked the little man, placing his hands on his hips, and throwing back Iiis head with tlis air of a horse-critic, " you didn't mane to bother us entirely, did you? New buck- skins, as my grandfather was a gentleman; new brogues, new coat, new everything — the signs of money flying about him like snuff at a wake. I v/ondcr did he pay the hansel yet ?" " Begor, then, he didn't so," said Tom, " an' more's the shame for him; bat wc won't forget it if he does. After all, it's raisona- ble of me thinkin' that Mike was goin' to mass, for he's turnin' pious iv late — a young saint, you know." Tlie young men laughed simultaneously, much to Mike's cha- grin, and with a view to cover his reputation as a good fellow, he said: " Troth, Ton/, if ye'd like to know the ins and outs of it, I was on the look-out for ye, knowin', as I knowed for the last two weeks, that ye'd have a bit of divarsion to-day, and now an' iver I'm as good a man as any o' ye." "More power to your potato cake," cried Tony, slapping Mike encouragingly on the back. "When the Driscolls give up sport- in', you may burn all the cards and shoot all the race-horses in the country. Come along, honey, for there's no time to be lost." Wlien the little party arrived at the kiln, they found it already in the occupation of a dozen of persons, who were disputing loud- ly over an alleged neglect on the part of some one present. "Bring us all this way," cried one, "and when we come, there's n^t a card to play with." "Dat Ted N^alon," said a sharp, wiry voice, " is de most in- sonest boy in the barony. H2 links of notin' except atin' and drinkin' and gutlin'. 'Tis n^ider here nor dere, but 'twas a bleedin' shame to lave de cards to him." " Ilowld yer tongue, Tim," said a manly young fellow, who appeared deeply dejected; "ye'd talk from this to Michaelmas, ye would. Look, min, there's only one thing for us. Draw lots l68 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. to know who'll go to the village to buy a sixpenny pack at Betty Houlihan's." The proposition was received with delight. A number of straws of various lengths were placed in Tony's hat, and the gam- blers drew one each. On comparing them, Mike's was found to be the shortest of the lot. The result startled him not a little, but there was no help for it. "Dere, you're de lucky man, so you arc," said Tim, "and you're well dcsarvin' of the honor, so you are. Take to your pins, now, and don't cry crack till you're back again wid us. And beware of de Good People." With many recommendations " not to spare his heels " ringing in his ears, Mike left the kiln. An hour later, with the cards in one of his capacious pockets and a bottle of whiskey in the other, he left the village and bent his steps homewards. He was in the highest spirits, for he anticipated rare sport; nor was his mind troubled by the reflection that he had sacrificed a solemn obliga- tion to human respect for his companions. Whether it was that he had imbibed too much of the contents of the bottle, or that some unusual cause contributed to the elasticity of his tempera- ment, we know not; but it is asserted, that whilst threading his way through Doonas Wood, the gay fellow carolled like a bird, and flourished his stick more than once with playful ingenuity. The extreme beauty of a little lawn, a place known as " The Fairies' Wake," hidden in a verdurous paling of holly trees, ar- rested his steps as he was about to cross it. The grass seemed to Mike to be grass of a softer and fresher texture than he had ever before seen; the trees, too, were of slenderer trunk and lovelier outline; and the patch of sky overhead was of deeper and richer blue than the sky usually wore at that season. " Surely," thought Mike, "if the Good People — Lord between us and harm — wanted a purty pl.ice to foot a double reel, 'tis here they ought to come, and not to the old raths, where two cals couldn't dance comforta- bly barrin' they held their tails in their mouths. Well, at any rate, though the place is nice, I must say it's cowld; and faith a dhrop would improve a boy's acquaintance with it." Having MIKE DRISCOLL AND THE FAIRIES. 1 69 expressed his opinion, Mike raised the bottle to his lips and swal- lowed a copious draught of the fiery liquor. At the same time, he became sensible that the cards had fallen from his pocket and were scattered in a brilliant litter on the sward. Placing the bot- tle in his pocket, he stooped to pick them up, but to his astonish- ment they wouldn't wait for his fingers; they appeared to be sud- denly endowed with life, for they hopped and skipped about in all directions with such liveliness of manner and such variety of motion that it was evident, as Mike subsequently remarked, "The Ould Boy's children had their Daddy's luck." "Ah, thin, will ye be aisy, will ye, and slop yer capers ?" he cried, for the potent spirit had deadened his reverence for the supernatural to a degree boidering on disbelief in its existence. "Say ye'll come if ye'U come, if ye don't, don't, for the deuce a one of me ud be bothered huntin' ye about for tin times yer worth. Knave of spades, bad luck to me, but I'll twist yer neck, you dirty blackamoor, if you go on that way makin' a fool o' me. Queen of Diamonds, there's a darlint — thuck, thuck, thuck — an' she's goin' to let me take her, isn't she ? Arrah, only mind how she cuts, head over heels — whoo ! will she ever put a stop to her gallop ? By dad, she's in debt to her house painter, and takes me for a bailiff. That's a dacent, respectable man, the King of Hearts — a very dacent man. Av coorse he remembers the night when he won me the last thrick of that murtherin' forty-five, when I bate Ned 1 legarty to babby-rags. Yerra, look how he comes to me, faugh-a-balla. Five of Clubs, you pock-marked thief, and make way for his majesty. Ye're gone agin. King of Hearts. Ye're gone, you shabby desaiver, with your ould petti- coats streelin' to your heels. Farragh-aJJw, if you come forninst me now and stood and said, ' Take me, Mick DriscoU, take me,* I'd say, » Gerout, you ould bundle of tattei-s, I'd like to know who'd put you in their pocket?' Musha, Queen o' Spades, 'tis yourself that's a purty colleen, and proud I'll be to take you under my protection, with your nate curls hanging down yow rosy cheeks, and the crown o' gold shinin' bright on your head. Whoo ! jewel, how she foots it, as if she was dancin' at Billy 170 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. Leonard's hop for a wager. Oh, the deeshy dawny little feet of her ! and the lily hands, and the wliite tin fingers, so long and so taper, for all the world like two hanks o' candles ! I have you, acliora, I have you. Arrah, shoot me, but she's gone, like the lest iv 'em — gone clean, as Joe Bolster said, when he polished his brogues and pawned them afterwards. Honest woman, honest woman, I say you don't know me, or you'd behave yourself a thrlde better. I'm Mike Driscoll, o' Doonas, I'd have you know. 'Tisn't myself that would say it, but there's not a girl in the barony that wouldn't cock her cap at me, if she thought 'twas any use for her. Do you hear that. Queen o' Spades ! do you? go over to your ould Iwccaiigh of a husband, that's niakin' a fool iv himself in the bushes, tryin' to coax out the Queen o' Diamonds, iv you please, and tell him I said so. O ! thin, muitlier, what's the matter with them at all at all ? There they're flutterin' about, like leaves at harvest time, and all the art o' man couldn't lay hands on one o' their ugly carcasses. Not a hair I care anyhow, for they'll soon get tired in spite iv 'em, and then 'twill be easy enough to go up and talk wid them. Go on, go on, ye varmints, I wouldn't look after ye for the good iv ye. WTioo ! that's right; when the somebodies dance vioonccns, their fatlier, av coorse, pays the piper." During the delivery of this strange address, the speaker was busily engaged chasing the cards on his hands and knees, from place to place; but his labors proved fruitless. Sometimes a king card would dance within an inch of his hand, but when he stretched forth that member to capture the royal truant, the latter would bound a foot high from the grass, and roll away a dozen feet or more, when it would stand, as if inviting fresh pursuit. The queens iubisted on sustaining the reputation of their sex for profound skill in coquetry. They would advance with a winning gait and fascinating air, towards the poor fellow, who used all his eloc^uence to induce them to return to his custody, and then prostrate themselves on the sward. But, strange to tell, when Mike laid hands on them, they would manage to gllue out of his grasp, and go spinning about the lawn like humming tojis. The MIKE DRISCOLL AND THE FAIRIES. I7I knaves were eminently successful in provolcing Mr. DriscoU's in- dignation. The rogues would stride up to him, with a look which meant to convey — "Can't you put us in your pocket?" then advancing their fat fore-legs, like a row of footmen at a Lord Mayor's dinner, and closing their left eyes, would gaze in his face so imploringly, that Mike was fain to pity them. Still, when he attempted to put them in his pocket, the merry young gentlemen would wheel round on their right heals, shake their wigged heads, and march off towards the trees, the skirts of their coats sticking out, and their swords dangling from their waists. As for the m- ferior cards they seldom came near him, contenting thefliselves with executing some mysterious movements under a neighboring holly. * Mike was disgusted with the whole business, and he was preparing to retire, when his ear was caught by a strain of un- earthly music, which appeared to float up, thin and bodiless as the morning mist, from the falls below; and having hovered overhead for a moment, died out in a chain of bell-like vibrations along the shores of the river. As he turned his eyes in the direc- tion from which the music came, he saw that the sun had long gone down, scarcely a trace of twilight lingered in the skies, but a fragment of the moon had risen to the left, and filled the far- stretching landscape with a tender and melancholy brightness. Only a few stars were visible " in the intense inane;" the roar of the falls was hushed, and a solemn stillness pervaded the air. The impression which the scene produced on the mind of the be- wildered beholder was notably increased by the marvellous change which was taking place in the character and conslitution of the cards. Some unseen magician had surely waved his wand above them, and transformed the slips of paper into the fantastic shapes which they were assuming. The four queens were quickly changed into winged fairies, which soared up gracefully from the sward, their airy drapery and wings, spotted with peacocks' eyes, gleaming in the imperfect moonlight. Then the kings were divested of their uncouth robes, and transformed into slender elves, each with a blue bell on his head for a crown. The knaves, by a similarly confounding process, were changed into 172 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. little old men, with hard, wry, roguish faces, and decrepit bodies. They wore odd little hats, with trianguLir brims, and such queer jerkins and breeches, that Mike laughed outright as he watched them. As for the common cards, they were transformed into a brood of small fairy-like forms, whose backs and breast^ were thickly spotted with clubs, spades, hearts and diamonds. These latter tumbled about on the sward with uproarious merriment, and indulged in the quaintest grimaces and the shrillest laughs. Suddenly a fresh burst of music rose from the falls; this time a gay dancing measure. Directly the card fait les formed sets and chose partners, and fell to tripping one of the gayest double reels which Mike ever witnessed. A couple of elves, mounted on the backs of black-winged bats, sailed about in the air, and eventu- ally ran a race to the corner of the moon for a dc^rberry handi- cap. The queen of hearts and diamonds, applying two fox-glove blossoms to their mouths, gave the signal for the start, and away went the jockeys. At the same time, the queen of spades and clubs flew over Mike's head, and dropped golden furze blossoms on his hat, which, as they rolled ofTthe leaf, tickled his ears, and caused him to roar from a sense of exquisite enjoyment. Mean- while, the elves continued to foot it featly on the delicate tops of the slender brome grass, and with such dexterous energy that Mike felt it impossible t6 suppress his admiration, and cried out at the top of his voice: "More power to ye, there is not a betther. ' ' The words were scarcely uttered when the king of hearts, a dapper little fellow, who was stretching his legs on a leaf of wild lavender, marched up to him, and, placing his haaids behind his back, exclaimed: " Musha, is that you, Mike DriscoU ? Happy Christmas to you, Mick, but arn't you afeard of catchin' cowld on the broad o' yer back, there ?" " Sorra afeard," replied Mike; "the night isn't hot surely, but it isn't cowld, and — " "Mayl)e," says the king, "ye'd have no objection, ma bouchal, to a dhrop o' the native. We keep the best you e>«er MIKE DRISCOLL AND THE FAIRIES. 1 73 clapped eyes on, and betune you and me, it never paid duty aither." "If it'sconvanient, I could dispinse with it," said Mike; "but none o' yer thricks, mind. Isn'i it the quarest thing on airth," he contimted, «' that I got the whole lock, stock and barrel o' ye for a few pence from Betty Houlihan this morning, and here ye're caperin' and flulterin' about in such grand style as if yer had the riches of Daymur at yer backs ?" ^ " Keep yer insinivations to ycr.self," says the king, and his face grew red with anger. " Yer dirty hints won't sarve you here, I can tell you, Mike Driscoll. If you wish to behave da- cent, we'll tlirate you dacent; and to show you that we mane right, have a dhrop o' comfort afore we go farther." So say- ing, the king handed M'.ke a bottle with centuries of cobwebs clogged around its neck and sides. Before putting the bottle to his mouth, so.nething prompted Mike to look into it. Instead of being full of whiskey it con- tained a blue vapor, in the middle of which he perceived, float- ing about, the resemblance of a little girl, who, it was assumed, had been stolen by the fairies from her parents more than six years before. As he wai opening his lips to speak to her, she motioned him to keep silent, and then whispered: " Mike, dar- lint, beware, and don't ate nor dhrink with them." He laid the bottle down in astonishment, and looked at the king. "Ye're very timperate iv late, Mike," said the king. "Is it because you don't like the color iv it?" "Troth,and it'snotbadat all," replied Mike, "but I'd rather not take it jest now. If yer majesty will lave it to me a while, I promise to finish it before the night is over." " Faith, an' yer more than welcome to it. Put it in yer pocket, Mike, and step across here till I have the honor and glory of in- troducing you to the Queen." Mike followed the King across the grass to wbsre her majesty was rocking herself to sleep on a bit of crowfoot. " Are you awake, darlint?" said the King; " bekase if you are, I'd like ye'd make the acquaintance of this fine fellow here." 174 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. The Queen, who was decidedly handsome, opened her eyes languidly and gazed on Mike. " Would you be after dancin' a double with me, young man ?" she asked. Mike bowed to the ground. "Would a cat drink new milk, ma'am?" was his reply. "Ye're a flattherer, Mike DriscoU," said the Queen, blushing to the eyebrows. " Faith, ye're great at the blarney, anyiiow. Ted," she continued, addressing the King, ♦' will ye ptrt yer fin- ger in yer mouth, and whistle for the prime minister J" The King smiled and obeyed. In less than a minute the Knave of Hearts made his appearance. " Ye're not dhrunk yet, are you?" asked the Queen, thought- fully. " Dickens a dhrop more than two I tuk," replied the Knave, and as he spoke both his ears shot up like a pair of straight homs at each side of his head. " Thin as ye're not," said her majesty, " pick out the purtiest pair o' pumps in the chest o' dhrawers, and put them on Mr. DriscoU, for he's condescinded to dance a double with your misthriss." " Oh, ma'am !" ejaculated Mike, " faith, as for the condescin- sion, it's all the other way, indeed." "Hould your bladdherin', " says the Queen, " hould your bladdherin', will you?" The Knave, who had disappeared, returned in a moment, and fitted Mike in a pair of beautiful pumps, with green heels and rosettes at the insteps. " 'Tis nale they look, Mr. DriscoU," observed kcr majesty, "but a plumper pair o' calves than yours I never seed afore. Och, 'tis you must play the dickens intirely with the girls, it is." "Axin' your ladyship's pardon," exclaimed Mike, " but I'm as innocent as the babe unborn." " Ha ! ha ! ha !" roared the Knave, giving, at the same lime, a diabolical grin, which distended his mouth almost to his ears. "Ha! ha! ha!" With a look of supreme contempt at the ugly scoSer, the MIKE DRISCOLL AND THE FAIRIES. 1 75 Queen gave Mike her hand, and led him to the middle of the lawn, where they mingled with the other royalties, male emd fe- male. *' Have a dhrop before you begin, Mike ?" said the Queen of Diamonds, who glittered from head to foot with shining jewels, at the same time pointing to the bottle, the neck of which was visible above his pocket. Mike bowed. " I'm as thankful to you, ma'am, as if I tuk it; but it's nayther here nor there until the blood gets heated; when that biles, I'll cool it." Diamonds smiled graciously. "May I make bould to ax yer hand for the next set ?" she asked. " Faix, an' you may, and welcome. When the Queen o' Hearts gets wake, I'm yer man, my lady. Whoo ! there's the music." An unseen orchestra struck up a lively tune, and Mike, having led his partner up and down in approved fashion, placed his arms akimbo, and began to foot it with an energy which aston- ished the denizens of fairy -land around him. Now he flung up his right hand, snapped his fingers with a great thwack, which made the grasses tremble; now he retired, throwing his heels right and left, and making the long tails of his coat fly about distractedly. " He's a rale jewel," says the Queen of Spades. "Did you ever see the likes of him ?" says her Majesty of Clubs. " Remember your promise tome, Mike," whispered the Queen of Diamonds. And the Kings swore he was the best fellow in their dominions, and the Knaves grinned with inextinguishable laughter, whilst the common cards went bobbing up and down, with the most comical gravity imaginable. Suddenly the Queen of Diamonds gave a little shriek, and ran limping to a bed of wild thyme, where she lay down in apparent agony. "What ails my delight?" screamed her royal consort, rushing to her side; " what's the matter, avourneen ?" 176 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "Oh, nothin' at all, at all," says the Queen. " It's ill said of you," says the King; " and by my twelve re- tainers, I'll know the ins and outs of it." " Troth, an' as ye're so curious, I'll tell ye; Mr. Driscollthrod on my corns — there." "The flamin' blackguard," says the King. " Boys," said he to the Knaves, " take that boccaiigh, and baste him green with nettles; bad luck to his ugly crubeens to-night." The other royal personages hastened to interpose in behalf of Mike; and after a great deal of solicitation, backed up by the prayers of the wounded Queen, he was pardoned. "It'll be all right, darlint," said the Queen of Hearts, bend- ing over the beautiful invalid. " Put a bit o' brown soap to it, and 'twill be well afore ye're twice married." Kneeling down at the poor Queen's feet, Mike took her foot in his hand and began to chafe it, an operation which appeared to afford the sufferer no small delight. At the same time, a dapper little gentleman, in an oddly -shaped hat, commenced to tickle the left side of his nose, whilst a pair of elves attempted to pull the bottle from his right pocket, and others poured showers of gold doubloons into his bosom. " Does it pain you much, ma'am ?" he asked, with a languish- ing look at the royal sufferer. She smiled. " Bcgor, Mike," she said, "pain from you is a thrate. Are you tired o' dancin' ? bekase, if you're not, I'd like to thry a minuet with you." " You're welcome to it for a whole hour," replied Mr. Driscoll. "Wliat'U be plasin' to you ?" "A minuet, Mike, a minuet." " Oh, consamin' the time, I lave that to yourself; but what would ye like ? Are you partial to a jig, ma'am ?'' The Queen laughed outright. "We'll dance a min-u-et, Mr. Driscoll, if you plaise. Didn't you ever thry one ?" she asked. "Oh, now I have it. No, thin, I didn't. I contracted with Tim Hinchy for three ha'pence a step, but he chaled me out o' MIKE DRISCOLL AND THE FAIRIES, I77 that dance, ma'am. Will ye be quiet, there, ye tasin' divils? Ma'am, spake a word or two to Paudheen, and inthrate him to lave off ticklin' my nose. Curse o' Cromwell on ye, and lave the bottle alone — what's it doin' to ye? Can't ye thry and be- have like Christhins — eh, can't ye ?" At a wave of the Queen's hand the elves desisted. ♦•There's the Queen of Hearts," she said; "mind, she'll be jealous o' me, Mike." *• Troth, tliin, 'tis ill would become her. Is she spliced yet ? I suppose ould Bullock Heart is her husband." Diamonds was about to reply, when her royal sister seated her- self at her side, and thus prevented Mike's curiosity from being gratified. At a signal from the Queen of Clubs, the whole com- pany threw themselves in various positions on the grass; and as the Knave of Diamonds clapped his hands, the ground opened, and a round table, heaped with a sumptuous banquet, rose m their midst. To all solicitations to eat and make merry, Mike, who remembered the warning of the captive in the bottle, gave a firm but respectful refusal. "Thry some of our blackberry jam?" asked the Queen of Spades. *' Shall I send you a lark's leg, darlint?" said the Queen of Hearts. «♦ Or a juicy slice from the sirloin of frog?" suggested the King of Clubs. " I ax your pardons all round," said Mike, "but I couldn't ate another morsel." As Mike said this, he felt a tiny head laid lovingly on his shoulder, and heard the Queen of Hearts whisper: " Ah, thin, Mr. Driscoll, were you ever coorlin' ?" "Why, thin, not to say much, ma'am. There was a girl o' the Bradys that I had a likin' for, and was goin' to be married to her, till we fell out about a feather-bed and a goat. We wouldn't give, and they wouldn't take, and there was an ind of it." The Queen sighed. "And did you never love any one since, Mr. Driscoll?" 178 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "Begor, thin, I'm afeard I did," replied Mike; "greatly afeard itself." " Her name wasn't Brady, Mike — was it ?" " Begor, thin, yer right enough, ma'am, it wasn't Brady; 'twas the— the— " " The what, darlint ?" **Why, 'twas the Queen o' Hearts, ma'am;" and as Mike made this terrible confession, he wound his arm round the Queen's neck, and imprinted a kiss on her cheek with so much vehemence that the report resounded like a clap of thunder over the locality. Kings, queens, knaves and commoners sprang to their feet. "Treason!" "Revenge!" "Kill him!" "Sting him to death !" were the first cries which arose from the tumult. "Tie his heels together," cried the Knave of Hearts, "and hang him out o' the moon." "Give us a garter, Peggy," said the King of Hearts to his wife. The lady parted with the ligature with evident unwillingness, and Mike's ankles were bound together in a trice. A cold sweat burst out through the pores of his body, and he grew powerless in the presence of the terrible doom which he had earned by his rashness. In vain he remonstrated, pleaded and wept. A power he was unable to resist lifted him on the backs of four giganlic bats, and in three seconds he was being whirled towards the moon, attended by all the fairy company. The planet was reached in less than ten minutes, and Mick felt almost sick to death from the smell of stale cheese that pervaded the atmos. phere. "Hang him to this comer," cried the King of Hearts. " We'll let him see he don't kiss our wife for nothing." "She can have it back, if 'twill please your majesty," said Mike. " I mint no harm." " Here's a nice cmmbledy corner to tie him to; 'twill break away in an hour, and then he'll be made porridge of," roared the Knave of Hearts. A suitable spot was at length selected, and Mike, hanging head MIKE DRISCOLL AND THE FAIRIES. 1 79 downwards between earth and heaven, was left swinging about in a storm which agitated the lonely lunar regions. Far below he could see the world, and, when the wind lulled, could catch the roar of the Falls. His head grew dizzy, his heart sank within him, and, clasping his hands together, he exclaimed, "May the Lord have mercy on me." The words had not died on his lips when the comer of the moon he was hooked to snapped off, and he fell — down deeper, and deeper, and deeper! The stars shot past him, as he descended with the velocity of an aerolite; and, before he had time to bless himself, he alighted, with a great bound, on the world, narrowly escaping a plunge into the roar- ing Falls. He started up, he rabbed his eyes — what was this ? Where was the moon ? and where were his tormentors ? He was lymg in the middle of the "Fairies' Wake," on the identical spot where he had taken the last draught of whisky on return- ing homeward. Everything was quiet, not a leaf stirred; it was long past midnight, and the full, round moon of Christmas had begun to set. Looking up to the descending planet, he ex- claimed, " 'Twas a power of a fall intirely. I wondher was the bottle broke !" An examination of his pocket convinced him that it had not sustained a fiacture; and, to his astonishment, the cards were all safe, and tightly packed together. " Afther all," he soliloquized, "I was only dhramin'; but old brogues to me, if I play cards agin in a hurry — Sunday or Monday, or holiday, aither. What the deuce has got into the bottle ?" Holding the flask between his eyes and the light, he perceived something moving up and down the inside. For a moment he was con- vinced that it was the spectral child, who had warned him to re- ject all offers of food and drink from the fairies, but, breaking the vessel, he discovered that it was only a field frog. Stiff and sore in every joint, he rose up and plodded homewards. "You see, Milce," said his mother, when he had recounted in detail the experiences of the night, "that there's nayther luck nor grace in card-playin', for if you had gone where you ought, the Good People couldn't trouble you." "Thrue enough, mother," he replied; "but wait till I go l8o THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. card-playin' agin, and you'll be diggin' tae praties on New Year's Day." "There, go where ye ought to go," he exclaimed, throwing the new cards into the fire. "It's moighty plain that people who ride steeplechases on bats and dine on frog sirloins aren't fit com- pany for honest Christians. And, mother, ye'U never agin have to fall out wid me about my duty ; and here, may the Lord send us all A HUNDRED HaPPY ChRISTMASES." TOM KEARNEY. l8l TOM KEARNEY. Some two score years ago, or over, on the road to Coal Island, in the county of Tyrone, lived Jack McConnaughey, the black- smith. I remember him well, and his appearance. To the shoulders he was about middle height, but his exceedingly long, thin, scraggy neck, made him fully two or three inches taller. Jack was a prudent, careful, and extremely frugal soul, who regarded any kind of waste on his premises as an unpardonable sin. Yet he did not stand very high in the esteem of his neigh- bors; they failed utterly to award him either merit or respect for his saving virtues; on the contrary, they designated him " a mis- erable old crj[o." He had a simple simpering manner withal that indi:ai,2d anything but the skinflint he really v/as. In the words of Tom Kearney, who was once his journeyman, "Jack was very soft about the mouth till you came to feel his teeth." Tom, however, was somewhat prejudiced in the matter, as the reader most likely will find out. Jack never manied, and there were those who were ill-natured enough to regard the fact as a wise and beneficent stroke of Pro- vidence. It was said that he had an old stocking hid away somewhere, and upon it all his affections concentrated and into it went every spvereign, half-crown and shilling his anvil yielded. Even the priest declared he "could not get a rap out of him but the bare dues that he couldn't help." His sister Nancy kept his house, and was said to be the countei-part of Jack himself, but Tom Kearney insisted that, bad as Jack was, Nancy was ten times worse. X82 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. Tom was not a native of the place; he was a Leinster man that tramped in there some years before, and got employment from Jack McComiaughey, not knowing anything about him at the time; as he verified afterwards, he "would as soon stay in h — 1 as wid ould Nancy."' Tom Kearney was a superior workman, deeply versed in the mysterious secrets of his trade; could make a plow or any other jnechanism fashioned in a forge, only give him the pattern. At shoeing horses he had no superior, and many believed he had no equal. At periods, ranging from four to six months, Tom would gooff on a spree, get gloriously drunk, and keep it up for a week or over. Then came a season of repentance, in which he labored with sickness and headache for several days more. During those special seasons of regret he was invariably the propounder of many wise and moral sayings on thefolly of drunkenness, always ending with the most strongly affirmed resolutions and solemn promises to avoid the cursed thmg for the time to come. Many farmers and others liked Tom's workmanship so well, that if their horses needed shoeing during his aberrations, they would keep them back until he got sober again. He had not lx:en long in McConnaughey's employment when his talent brought busi- ness crowding to Jack's forge, and the latter, though he found him profitable, took advantage of the stranger, paid him as little wages as possible notwithstanding his superior workmanship. Barney Muldoon was another blacksmith, living at the cross roads, some two miles off, and a generous good fellow, who used to have a good deal of business to do, but Jack's new journey- man took the shine out of them all. Tom in the meantime did not like his quarters, and was saving up what money he could to get away from the place; this was the reason why that for six mortal months he never tasted barley juice. He was preparing to leave, when, on a Sunday, he met Barney Muldoon for the first time, and after the usual salutations were over the latter invited Tom to a social drink, and off they went together. Barney was a genial, warm-hearted fellow, and Tom, feelmg tlie mfluence, could not resist. Hour after hour of cosy enjoyment stole over TOM KEARNEY. 1 83 them, conversing about their trade and other interesting matters, until it was night before they departed. Barney went home and was at his work next day, but Tom went on a spree, and contin- ued at it till all his money was gone. The time for jollification was over at last, and the time for re- pentance come; his head ached fearfully, augmented by conjoint lectures from Jack and Nancy for neglecting his work, "and money so hard to be got." Tom wall^ed out to escape the cross- fire of tantalizing words and did not return. Jack was soon in the fidgets to laiow where he went or what had become of him, when sometime during the next week he made the terrible discovery that Tom Kearney was hard at work in Barney Muldoon's forge! This news was very irritating — Barney Muldoon to take away his journeyman ! He went there to know how any one dared do it. As he approached the place, however, the thing began to look a little different to his view; he knew it would not be safe to say much to Barney, and so he addressed himself to Tom, who felt little disposed to treat liim even civilly. Tom's head was quite recovered now; he was getting better wages, and not at all the meek creature he was when weak, sick and nervous, just after the spree. He ordered McConnaughey to leave, or, if not, he was preparing for hostile demonstrations. Being an active, powerful young man, and looking cross at Jack, the latter took the hint and departed at the same time. Feeling his loss acutely, he judged that as soon as it went forth that Tom had left him, his business, now so flourishing, would soon fall back into the old ruts again, and maybe worse. His anticipation was not incorrect, for Barney soon got all the horse-shoeing he could do in consequence. .Still Jack did not give up hope of coaxing Tom back again, an accession of which he felt the need, for even now that winter was approaching, he had little or nothing to do. He was never done accusing himself for letting Tom gof and was earnestly wishing for an opportunity of taJiing with him, away from Barney Muldoon's presence. Thus, with his mind tormented in this way, the time was come to lay hi Ills year's stock of coals for the forge, according to his cus- l84 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. torn. He had got a load or two from the Island, and was going for more, when passing by the public house, a mile or so from his own place, on a fine day, somebody called him from the mside. He went over to see who it was, and had scarcely got in when his attention was directed to a man lying helplessly drunk and asleep, who turned out to be no other than his journeyman, Tom Kearney. The meeting seemed providential, but how was he going to improve the opportunity, and the fellow so dead drunk ? A bright thought occurred to Jack; that he would take Tom along in his cart to the coal pits, and when the latter awoke he might induce him to return and domicile with Nancy agam. Full of this pro- mising project, he got more straw into his vehicle, and with the help of fcome bystanders he succeeded in transferring Tom to it, more like a dead man than a living one. Jack drove on to the pits; though it was a long way, he arrived there at last, and still his charge slept fast as ever. He immediately sought out Bryan Campbell, his first cousin, to whom he communicated all his troubles and desires; how he wished to get Tom back, and the ruse he had practised in order to get him to return. Now, Bryan Campbell was the wag of the coal mines, an in- veterate practical joker. He was a man of considerable intelli- gence, and though he indulged in the social bowl occasionally, few ever saw him dnmk. He was the very centre of all the fun amongst the miners, and when he went on a game of sport, all obeyed him as a commander. Though McConnaughey was his near relative, he had little respect for him, knowing his niggardly disposition well. "What'U ye give me," said Bryan, " if I git this fellow to go back till you?" Jack was willing to promise him almost anything if he only effected that. Camplx;ll got Tom carefully into the bucket with himself, and both were lowered down the shaft. The sleeper was conveyed with quiet caution into a coal chamber which has little resemblance to the lady's chamber. There he was peaceably divested of his clothing. An old blanket, procured for the occa- TOM KEARNEY. 1 85 don, was wrapped round him, and he was tranquilly placed by his conductor, sitting by a great pillar of coal, just as the inebriate was showing some signs of returning animation. Tom, at lengtii, had gradually slept off his drunken stupor, and opened his eyes; it was all dark around him. He tried hard to recollect himself where he went asleep, but his memory was sorely at fault; he could not recall the most distant glimmer. He remembered being at Sam McVicker's public house, where the big picture of King William crossing the Boyne was up; and how Sam saved him from a set of Orangemen, who were about to pound him for cursing ICing Billy — but where was he now ? He felt sick, his throat was dry and husky, and oh, how bitterly he regretted going on that infernal spree, and he doing so well with Barney MuJdoon. He soon discovered he was naked, with noth- ing but an old blanket round him. Where were his clothes, or where did he lose them ? He was sensible of a strong odor of brimstone, very ominous; and again the terribly perplexing question smote him — where was he now ? He heard the miners pickings but he did not understand it; he had never seen a coal pit in hb life, nor had he the remotest notion of what it looked like, and of course the least suspicion of where he was never entered his thoughts. Poor Tom was thus seriously and sadly ruminating, his usually strong nerves unstrung and his system weakened down, for he had eaten no food for nearly a week — when he saw some strange looking beings approaching, each with a light on his head ! They came and ranged silently around him. He could see they were black, and for fear of exposing his nakedness he drew the blanket closer round him. After standing some time in silence, one of these mysterious visitors spoke at last, and he heard in solemn tones; " What is your name ?" "My name," said he, " is Tom Kearney; but tell me, if you please sir, where am I now, or what place is this?" " Don't you know without asking ? Can't you see we're all black? And don't you smell the brimstone?" |86 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "Oh," said Tom, groaning inwardly, "how did I get hei'C, and what's the name of the place ?" " You got here as all like you get. You died drunk, and why need you ask the name of tlie place ?" " Am I dead?" said Tom, now fairly sobered. ♦' Of course you're dead. ' ' "And are you the — t\i2 imps?" he faintly faltered. "Yes, we're the imps," was the reply, and they all laughed, which sounded dreadfully hellish in Tom's ears. " What did you work at in the other world ?" resumed the talk- ing imp again. "I was a blacksmith," said Tom. " Are you a good blacksmith ?" "I used to be able to forge almost any kind of a job." " Where did you serve your time?" " In Dublin, on the mail coach road, with Maguire, that used to be called The Big Fish, for a nick-name." " Can you make chains and bolts ?" " Yes, I can make bolts after a pattern, and I can make chains and close them if I have a good anvil," " Ye'U have a good anvil, and ye'U be very useful here, for we want a lot o' chains made, and bolts, too, for there's a great deal o' quality coming here just now. There's Lord Castle- reagh, that cut his throat the other day; ye've heerd o' him, didn't you?" "Yes," answered Tom; "but wasn't it in England he did that?" " Oh, aye, indeed was it, but he must come to the Irish part o' hell for his punishment. He betrayed and roblx:d Ireland, you know, and it's Irlslimen must keep the hat blast till his skin. He is the traitor that sold the country to Billy Pitt, and it's their own fault if they let the fire go djw;a on liim — but there's no danger o' that. We use traitors tlic worst of all here. The "98 " informers are all crammed down very far — Tom Reynolds is undennost," Kearney was well pleased at the information the imp gave TOM KEARNEY. l8f hhn. He thought it was quite right, and said so. His lucid in- formant asked him if he was not very dry. " Yes, mdeed," said Tom, " but sure you have nothing to drink here ?" " Oh, aye have we, troth, for poor fellows like you," and to Tom's astonishment and delight, he was handed a small tin por- ringer fuU of pure potteen. He smelled of it and drank it down gratefully, remarking how good it was, and that he never ' thought they had such good whiskey down here. " Hut, man," said the imp, '♦ why wouldn't it be good, when it was down in hell whiskey was first made." Kearney felt much better after this kindness, even if it was m hell, and would have stood up but for shame of his nakedness.. Though amongst the devils, he felt shy of appearing with noth- ing but an old blanket around him. The spokesman fiend, noticing his inclination, told him he must keep sitting until he was called, and continued to enlighten him on the usages of tiie nether world. "You see," he resumed, "we do things down here a good! deal different to what ye thought. In the other world the rich, have it all their own way, and have no marcy on the poor, so- we turn the thing right around, when we git them down here, and pay them back in their own coin. All the punishment we give- till the poor fellows that come here is to make them keep the fires up till the rich rascals, for all their persecutions on earth, and it's hardly any punishment at all to the poor to do this work, for most o' them take comfort in paying back ould scores to the scoundrels that punished themselves above. That's the way we work down here. Do you see ?" Tom did see and appreciated, too; he listened very attentively, though it was a new system of theology to him; he had never heard it before, but concluded it was about right. " Yes," rejoined the fiend, " it is right, and many of the ty- rants would come off a good deal worse, only the people they injured went up to the other place, and it's drunkards and other poor creatures that didn't know much about them, that must at- 100 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. tend to them here; but they keep the fire up to them purty well for all that." The imp walked off to some other place, leaving Kearney in deep thought; he soon returned, however, and accosted his vic- tim: " Thomas Kearney, who did you work for last ?" " For Barney Muldoon, at the cross; a very decent man." " And who did you work for before that ?" " For Jack McConnaughey, God forgive me." A laugh among the imps followed this remark, and there was a mos-ement behind the great pillar that Tom was sitting against; for Jack himself was there; he came down with a few others who waiitcd io see the fun, though to him it was no fun at all, but real business. He could not restrain himself, or leave the man- agement of the affair to Bryan; he was so much interested he must cane ep.ves-dropping. It is an old saying that an eaves- dropper seldom hears anything creditable or pleasing to himself. Let us see if Jack's experience was an exception. " Well," said the fiend, who was no other than Bryan Camp- bell, " why did you leave Jack McConnaughey ?" "For very good reason," replied Tom, who, by the way, grew quite familiar since he got the drink, "for the very good reason that he was the meanest man I ever knew." There was a general laugh at this, and Tom was surprised to hear it echoed in different directions away behind him. " Thomas Kearney," said the dark spokesman again, "if you got a chance to get out o' this place wouldn't you take it ?" "Why, to be sure I would." " Well, now, Thomas, if you git out of this on conditions of gCHng back to Jack McConnaughey, will you go ? — but mind, you can't break any bargam you make here." This was a terrible and serious dilemma, to which Tom gave the most grave consideration. He thought of Jack's meanness — Nancy's hard visage never appeared more repulsive to him. Feel- ing that the contract must be binding, he had much difficulty in making up his mind, but notwithstandmg this, he arrived at the TOM KEARNEY. 1 89 conclusion finally. McConnaughej', from behind the wall of coal, stretched out his long neck and listened breathlessly, think- ing he was to have his journeyman back again. "Well," said the victim, and all were attentive, " from all you tell me about this place, it's not so bad as I thought. I'd like to scorch ould Castlereagh; and anyhow I'd rather stay here than have to Kvc my life with Jack, and above all with ould Nancy !" The wild roar of laughter that followed this declaration star- tled poor Kearney; it reverberated all around through the dark space, w^iere he could not see any one or any tiling. The black fiends seemod all merriment, while poor Tom could not under- stand the cause. Soon the spokesman recovered his equanimity, and he returned to the examination: "7"liQjnas Kearney, what have you against Jack McConnaugh- ey or his sister Nancy ?" "Well," began Tom, looking at the crowd of imps coming and goiug with lights on their heads, " I'll tell you as well as I can: Jack is a man I couldn't bear to work for; if he was paying me a shCling I earned from him, he'd squeeze it so hard atween bis finger and thumb that you could read tlie date o' the coin there for hours after — faith, his own neighbors say he'd skin a flea for the hide and fat; and as for ould Nancy — she's ten times worse; she'd starve the divil with her thin stirabout! Gentle- men," be added, looking hard at the infemaLs, " I don't mean any offence to you; but I think she counts the grains of oatmeal going into the pot." During the delivery of this speech the imps were in agonies of lauglUer, screaming in uproarious glee, after which many of them disappeared. "And so, Tom Kearney," said the familiar fiend, "you'd rather stay here than with old Nancy McConnaughey ?" "Yes," answered Tom, who began to feel rather sick again, " I'd rather stay here than with ould Nancy McConnaughey." "Well," said the familiar voice, "don't you think you could eat something now ?" ipO THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "No, I'm too sick; but I'd take another drink of whiskey if you have it." He got the other drink, and felt hut little better when the friendly fiend nsked him if he could sleep, but no he could not. He was now alone, save the one dark habitant who spoke to him all the time, and who now addressed him in a solemn, friendly manner: " Tom Kearney, ye're too good a fellow to be kept here, so if you let me bandage your eyes and bind your hands, and do everything as 1 tell you, I think I can lead you out and set you at liberty." Tom consented, and with his eyes blindfolded, the other led him to where there was some clothing, and told him to dress himself in the dark. lie wondered how the clothes fitted him so well; they felt like his own. His hands were then tied securely behind his back, and his companion led him along, until, by his directions, tliey were seated together in a large tub, and soon they began to ascend up, until at last Tom found himself in the firesh, cool air. He walked a long way with his conductor hold- ing him by the arm, until Ihey entered a house, where he was seated and told to remain very quiet until somebody would come and set him free, which would surely be in a short time. He complied faithfully with the injunction, and after a while some person entered, asking what was the matter with him. But before he could answer the new-comer unbound his hands, and took off the bandage, when Tom found himself m the presence of a stout, good-natured looking man, who eyed him curiously. Kearney was no less surprised than gratified at his return to daylight again, though not disposed to be very communicative with the stranger about his escape from the lower regions — his train of ideas was sadly confused, and he had too much to think of for talking, just yet. His liberator accompanied him to the turnpike road leading home. Tom was very thoughtful, when his conductor hailed a passing carman, and asked him to give his companion " a lift as far as Barney Muldoon's at the cross." TOM KKARNEY. 1 9! » "Indeed, Bryan Campbell," said the carman, "I'm only too glad to serve a friend of yours." Tom got home to Barney's house about night-fall, a sadder and perhaps a wiser man than when he left it. Bryan Campbell conceived quite a regard for him after that time, and always said, •'Kearney was a man — every inch of him — and never passed the way without calling in." I forgot to state that Barney Muldoon's daughter, Mary, was the belle of the parish, and in less than a year from that time Tom Kearney led her to the altar, and Br}'an Campbell was at the wedding. These incidents occurred before Father Mathew's time, but Tom took good care ever after not to risk another descent into the lower regions. He became a sober, good husband, and in time the father of a fine family of handsome girls and stout boys. 192 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. PADDY CORBETT'S FIRST SMUGGLING TRIP. On a foggy evening in the November of a year of which Irish tradition, not lieing critically learned in chronology, has not fur- nished the date, two men pursued their way along a bridle road that led through a wild mountain tract in a remote and far westward district of Kerry. The scene was savage and lonely. Far be- fore them extended the broad Atlantic, upon whose wild and heaving bosom the lowering clouds seemed to settle in fitful re- pose. Round and beyond on the dark and barren heath, rose picturesque masses of rock — the finger-stones which Nature, it would seem, in some wayward frolic, had tossed into pinnacled heaps of strange and multiform construction. About their base, and in the deep interstices of l!ieir sides, grew the holly and the hiiivTy mountain ash, and on their topmost peaks frisked the agile goat in all the j^ride of unfettered liberty. Tliese men, each of whom led a Kerry pony that bore an empty sack along the difficult pathway, were as dissimilar in form and appearance as any two of Adam's descendants possibly could be. One was a low-sized, thick-set man; his broad shoulders and muscular limbs gave indication of considerable strength; but the mild expression of his large blue eyes and broad, good-humored countenance, told, as plain as the human face divine could, that the fierce aiid stormy passions of our kind never exerted the strength of that muscular arm in deeds of violence. A jacket and trousei-s of brown frieze, and a broad-brimmed hat made of that particular grass named thraneen, completed his dress. It PADDY CORBETTS FIRST SMUGGLING TRIP, I93 would be difficult to conceive a more strange or anseemly figure than the other: he exceeded in height the usual size of men; but his limbs, which hung loosely together, and seemed to accompa- ny his emaciated body with evident reluctance, were literally nothing but skin and bone ; his long conical head was thinly strewn with rusty-colored hair that waved in the evening breeze about a haggard face of greasy, sallow hue, where the rheumy, sunken eye, the highly prominent nose, the thin and livid lip, half disclosing a few rotten straggling teeth, significantly seemed to tell how disease and misery can attenuate tlie human frame. He moved, a living skeleton: yet, strange to say, the smart nag which he led was hardly able to keep pace with the swinging im- equal stride of the gaunt pedestrian, though his limbs were so fleshless that his clothes flapped and fluttered around him as he stalked along the chilly moor. As the travellers proceeded, the road, which had lately been pent within tlie huge masses of granite, now expanded sufficiently to allow them a little side-by-side discourse; and the first-men- tioned person pushed forward to renew a conversation which seemed to have been interrupted by the inequalities of the narrow pathway. "Ail' so ye war saying, Shane Glas," he said, advancing in a straight line with his spectre-looking companion, " ye war saying that face of yours would be the means of keeping the ganger from our taste of ti baccy." •' The ganger will never squint at a lafe of it, ' ' says Shane Glas, "if I'm in yer road. There was never a cloud over Tun Casey for the twelve months I thra veiled with him; and if the foolish man had had me the day his taste o' brandy was taken, he'd have the fat boiling over his pot to-day, 'tisn't that I say it my- self:" " The sorrow from me, Shane Glas," returned l:is friend with a hearty laugh, and a roguish glance of his funny eye at the angular and sallow countenance of the other, "the sorrow be from me if it's much of Tim's /a/ came in your way, at any rate, though I don't say as much for the ^aise." 194 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. •'It's laughing at the cracked side o' yer mouth ye'd be, I'm thinking, Paddy Corbett," said Shane Glas, " if the thief of a ganger smelt your taste o' tibaccy and I not there to to fricken him off, as I often done afore." "But couldn't we take our lafe o' tibaccy on our ponies' backs in panniers, and throw a few hake or some oysters over 'em, and let on that we're fish-joulting ?" " Now, mark my words, Paddy Corbett: there's a chap in Killamey as knowledgeable as a jailer; Ould Nick wouldn't bate him in roguery. So put your goods in the thrackle, shake a wisp over 'em, lay me down over that in the fould o' the quilt, and say that I came from Decie's counthry to pay a round at Tubber-na-Treenoda, and that I caught a faver, and that ye're taking me home to die, for the love o' God and yer mother's sowl. Say that Father Darby, who prepared me, said that I had the worst spotted faver that kem to the counthry these seven years. If that doesn't fricken him off, ye're sowld " (betrayed.) By this time they had reached a deep ravine, through which a narrow stream pu'sued its murmuring course. Here they left the horses, and, furnished with the empty sacks, pursued their onward route till they reached a steep cliff. Far below in the dark and undefined space sounded the hollow roar of the heaving ocean, as its billowy volume broke upon its granite barrier, and formed along the dark outline a zone of foam, beneath whose snowy crest the ever-impelled and ai\gry wave yielded its last strength in myriad flashes of phosphoric light, that sparkled and danced in arrowy splendor to the wild and sullen music of the dashing sea. "Paddy Corbett, avick," said Shane Glas, "pull yer legs fair an' aisy aflher ye; one inch iv a mistake, achorra, might sind ye a long step of two hundred feet to furnish a could supper for tlie sharks. Tlie sorrow a many would vinture down here, avournccn, barring the red fox of the hill and the honest smug- gler; they are both poor persecuted crathurs, but God has given \.\\Qm.g!impshii>t to find a place of shelter for the fruits of their honest industry." ' PADDY CORBETTS FIRST SMUGGLING TRIP. 1 95 Shane Glas was quite correct in his estimate of the height of this fearful cliff. It overhung the deep Atlantic, and the narrow pathway wound its sinuous way round beneath so many frightful precipices, that had the unpractised feet of Paddy Corbett tlireaded the mazy declivity in the clear light of day, he would in all prolKiblhty have performed the saltation, and furnished the banquet of which Shane Glas gave him a passing hint. But ig- norance of his fearful situation saved his life. His companion, in addition to his Imowledge of this secret route, had a limbemess of miiscle, and a pliancy of uncouth motion, that enabled him to pursue every winding of the awful slope with all the activity of a weazel. In their descent, the wild sea-fowl, roused by the un- usual approach of living things from their couch of repose, swept past oa sounding wing into the void and dreary space abroad, uttering discordant cries, which roused the more distant slumber- ers of the rocks. As they farther descended round the foot of the cliff, where the projecting crags formed the sides of a little cove, a voice, harsh and threatening, demanded "who goes there ?" The echo of the questioner's interrogation, reverberating along the receding wall of rocks, would seem to a fanciful ear the challenge of the guardian spirit of the coast pursuing his nightly round. The wild words blended in horrid unison thxtjugh the mid-air wilh the sigh of waving wings and discordant screams, which the echoes of the cliffs multiplied a thousand fold, as though all the demons of the viewless world had chosen that hour and place of iDneliness to give their baneful pinions and shrieks of terror to the wind, '•\Vho goes there ?" again demanded this strange warder of the savage scene; and again the scream of the sea-bird and the echo of human tones sounded wildly along the sea. -'A friend, avick machree," replied Shane Glas. "Paudh, achorm, v;hat beautiful lungs you have ! But keep your voice a tiirifle lower, ma bouchal, or the water-guards might be after staling a maich on ye, shaip as ye are." " Shane Glas, ye slinging thief," rejoined the other, "is that yerself? Honest man," addressing the new comer, " take care 196 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. of fliat talk-faced schamer. My hand for ye, Shane will see his own funeral yet, for there is not another crathur, barring a fox, could creep down the cliff till the moon rises, anyhow. But I know what saved yer bacon; he that's born to lye hanged — you can rcpate the rest o* the Ihrue ould saying yerself, ye poor atomy!" " Wlu5t,"-said Shane Glas, rather chafed by the severe raillery of the other, " is it because ye shoulder an ould gun that an honest man can't tell what a Judy ye make o' yerself, swaggering like a raw Peeler, and frightening every shag on the cliii with yer foolish bull-scuttering ! Make way there, or I'll slick that ould barrel in yez — make way there, ye spalpeen ! ' ' "Away to yer masther with ye, ye miserable disciple," re- turned the unsparing jiber. " Arrah, by the hole o' my coat, afther you have danced yer last jig upon notliing, with yer purty himp cravat on, I'll coax yer miserable carcass from the hangman to frighten the crows with." When the emaciated man and his companion had proceeded a few paces along the narrow ledge that lay between the steep cliff and the sea, they entered a huge excavation m the rock, which seemed to have been formed by volcanic agency, when the infant world heaved in some dire convulsion of its distempered bowels. The footway of the subterranean vault was strewn with the finest sand, which, hardened by frequent pressure, sent the tramp of the intruder's feet reverberating along the gloomy vacancy. On before gleamed a strong light, which, piercing the surround- ing darkness, partially revealed the sides of the cavern, \\hile the far space beneath the lofty roof, impervious to the powerful ray, extended dark and undefined. Then came the sound of human voices mixed in uproarious confusion; and, anon, within a reced- ing angle, a strange scene burst upon their view. Before a huge fire which lighted all the deep recess of the high over-arching rock that rose sublime as the lofty roof of a Gothic cathedral, sat five wild-looking men of strange semi- nautical raiment. Between them extended a large sea-chest, on wliich stood an earthen flagon, from which one, who seemed PADDY CORBETTS FIRST SMUGGLING TRIP. 1 97 the president of the revel, poured sparkling brandy into a single glass that circled in quick succession, while the jest and laugh and song swelled in mingled confusion, till the dinsome cavern rang again to the roar of the subterranean bacchanals, " God save all here !" said Shane Glas, approaching the fes- tive group. "Oh, wisha ! Misther Cronin, but you and the boys is up to fun. How goes the Colleen Ayrigh, and her Bochal Fadda, that knows how to bark so purty at thim plundering thieves, the wather-guards ?" "Ah! welcome, Shane," replied the person addressed; "the custctmer you've brought may be depinded on, I hope. Sit down, boys." " 'Tis ourselves that will, and welkim," rejoined Shane. *' Depinded on ! why, 'scure to the dacenther father's son from this to himself than Paddy Corbett, 'tisn't that he's to the fore." " Come, taste our brandy, lads, while I help you to some ham," said the smuggler. "Shane, you have the stomach of a shark, and the digestion of an ostrich." " Be gar ye may say that wid yer own i>urty mouth, Misther Cronin," responded the garrulous Shane, "Here, gintlemin, here is free thrade to honest min, an' high hangin' to all in- formers ! Oh ! murdher maura (smacking his lips), how it tastes ! Oh, avirra yealish (laying his bony hand across his shrunken paunch), how it hates the stummuch 1" " You are welcome to our masion, Paddy Corbett," interrupt- ed the hospitable master of the cavern; " the house is covered in, the rent paid, and the craiskeen of brandy unadulterated; so eat, drink, and be merry. When the moon rises, we can proceed to business." Paddy Corbett was about to return thanks when the intermin- able Shane Glas again broke in. " I never saw a man, beggin' yer pardon, Misther Cronin, lade a finer or rolickinger life than your own four bones — drinking an' coorting on land, and spreading the canvass of the Coolleen Ayrigh over the salt say, for the good o' thrade. If I had Trig Dowl the piper fominst me there, near the cruiskeen, but I'd 198 THE 20Z1MUS PAPERS. drink an' dance till morning. But here's God bless us, an* SUC' cess to our thrip, Paddy, avrahir;" and he drained his glass. Then when many a successive round went past, he called out at the top of his voice, " Silence for a song," a,nd in a tone some- what between the squeak of a pig and the drone of a bagpipe, poured forth a comaUye. Early on a clear sunny morning after this, a roan with a hoi-se and truckle car was observed to enter the town of Killarney from the west. He trolled forth before the animal, which, checked by some instinctive dread, with much reluctance allowed himself to be dragged along at the full length of his hair halter. On the rude vehicle was laid what seemed a quantity of straw, upon which was extended a human being, whose greatly attenuated frame appeared fully developed beneath an old flannel quilt. His face, that appeared above its tattered hem, looked the embodi- ment of disease and famine, which seemed to have gnawed, in horrid union, into his inmost vitals. His distorted features por- trayed rending agony; and as the rude vehicle jolted along the rugged pavement, he groaned hideously. This miserable man was our acquaintance Shane Glas, and he that led the strange procession no other than Paddy Corbett, who thus experimented to smuggle his " taste o' tibaccy," which lay concealed in well- packed bales beneath tlie sick couch of the wretched simulator. As they proceeded along, Shane Glas uttered a groan, convey- ing such a feeling of real agony that his startled companion, sup- posing that he had in verity received the sudden judgment of his deception, rushed back to ascertain whether he had not been sud- denly stricken to death. "Paddy, a chorra-na-nea," he muttered in an undergrowl, "there's the vagabone thief of a gauger down sthreet ! Exert yer- self, a-lea, to baffle the schamer, an' don't forget 'tis the spotted faver I have." Sure enough, the gauger did come; and noticing, as he passed along, the confusion and averted features of Paddy Corbett, ho immediately drew up. PADDY CORBETTS FIRST SiMUGGLING TRIP. 1 99 •' WTiere do you live, honest man, an' how far might you be goin' ?" said the keen exciseman. "O, wisha ! may the lieavens be yer honor's bed !— ye must be one o' the gcxid ould stock, to ax afther the consams of a poor angishore like me: hut, a yinusal-achree, 'tisn't where I live is worse to rae, but where that donan in the thruckle will die with me." *' But how far are you taking him ?" " O, 'tis myself would offer a prayer on my two binded knees for yer honor's soul, if yer honor would tell me that. I forgot to ax the craythur where he should be berrid when we kim away, an' now he's speechless out an' out." "Come, say where is your residence," said the other, whose suspicion was increased by the countryman's prevarication. "By jamuie, yer honor's larnin' bothers me intirely, but if yer honor manes where the woman that owns me and the childre is, 'tis that way, west at Tubber-na-Treenoda ; yer honor has heard tell o' Tubber-na-Treenoda, bycoorse?" "Never, indeed." " O, wisha ! don't let yer honor be a day longer that way. If the sickness, God betune us an' harum, kim an ye, 'twould be betther for yer honor give a testher to the durhogh there, to offer up a rosary for ye, than to slull out three pounds to Doctor Crump." " Perhaps you have some soft goods concealed under the sick man," said the ganger, approaching the car. "I frequently find smuggled wares in such situations." " Sorra a taste good or soft under him, sir dear, but the could sop from the top o' the stack. Ketch ! why, not a haporlh ye'U ketch here but the spotted faver." "Fever!" repeated tlie startled exciseman, retiring a step or two. " Yes, faver, yer honor; what else ? Didn't Father Darby that prepared him, say that he had spotted faver enough for a thous- smd min ! Do, yer honor, come look in his face, an' thin throw the poor dying craythur, that kem all the way from Decie's 200 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. coonthry, by raisin' of a dhream, to pay around for his wife's sowl at Tubber-na-Treenoda: yes, throw him out an the road an' let his blood, the blood o' the stranrjer, be on yer soul an' his faver in ycr body." Paddy Corbett's eloquence operating on the exciseman's dread of contagion, saved tlie tobacco. Our adventurers considering it rather dangerous to seek a buy- er in Killarney, directed their course eastv/ard to Kanturk. The hour of evcnyig was rather advanced as they entered the town; and Shane, who could spell his way without much difficulty through the letters of a sign-board, seeing " entertainment for man and horse " over the door, said they would put up there for the night, and then directed Paddy to the shop of the only tobacco- nist in town, whither for some private motive he declined to at- tend him. Mr. Pigtail was after dispatching a batch of customers when Paddy entered, who, seeing the coast clear, gave him the " God save all here," which is the usual phrase of greeting in the kingdom of Kerry. Mr. Pigtail was startled at the rude saluta- tion, which, though a beautiful benediction, and characteristic of a highly religious people, is yet too uncouth for modem "ears polite," and has, excepting among the lowest class of peasants, entirely given way to that very sincere and expressive phrase of address, "your servant." Now, Mr. Pigtail, who meted out the length of his replies in exact proportion to the several ranks and degrees of his querists, upon hearing the vulgar voice that uttered the more vulgar salute hesitated to deign the slightest notice, but, measuring with a glance the outward man of the saluter, he gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, and the dissyllabic response "servant;'' but scehig Paddy Corbctt with gaping mouth about to open his em- bassy, and that, like Burns's Death, " He seemed to make a kind o' Stan', But nacthiiig spak," he immediately added, " Honest man, you came from the west, I believe ?" "Thrue enough for yer honor," said Pat; "my next door PADDY CORBETTS FIRST SMUGGLING TRIP. 20I neighbors at that side are the wild Ingins of Immeriky. A wet and could foot an' a dry heart I had coming to ye; but welkim be the gifts o' God, sure poor people should make out an honest bit an' sup for the weeny crathurs at home; an' I have thirteen o' thim, all thackeens." "And I dare say you have brought a trifle in my line of busi- ness in your road ?" "Faith, 'tis yerself may book it; I have the natest lafe o' tibaccy that ever left Connor Cro-ab-a-bo. I was going to skin an the honest man— Lord betune us and harum, I'd be the first informer of my name, anyhow. But, talking o' the tibaccy, the man that giv it said a sweeter taste never left the hould of his ship, and that's a great word. I'll give it dog chape, by raison o' the long road it thravelled to your honor." " You don't seem to be long in this business," said Mr. Pigtail. "Thrueforyou there agin, a-yinusal; 'tis yourself may say so." Now Mr. Pigtail supposed from the man's seeming simplicity, and his inexperience in running smuggled goods, that he should drive a very profitable adventure with him. He ordered him to bring the goods privately to the back way that led to his premi- ses; and Paddy, who had the fear of the gauger vividly before him, lost no time in obeying the mandate. But when Mr. Pigtail examined the several packages, he turns round upon poor Paddy with a look of disapprobation, and exclaims, "This article will not suit, good man — entirely damaged by sea water — never do." " .Stv wather, anagh !" returns Paddy Corbett; "bad luck to the dhrop o' water, salt or fresh, did my taste o' tibaccy ever sec. The Colleen Ayrigh that brought it could dip an' skim along the waves like a sea-gull. There are two things she never yet let in, Mr. Pigtail, avourneen — wather nor wather guards ; the one ships oft her, all as one as a duck ; and the Boochal Fadda on her deck keeps t'other a good mile off, more spunk to him." This piece of nautical information Paddy had ventured from gleanings col- lected from the rich stores w hich the conversation of Shane Glas presented along the road and in the smugglers' cave. 202 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. •'But, my good man, you cannot instruct me in the way of my business. Take it away — no man in the trade would venture an article like it. But I shall make a sacrifice, rather than let a poor ignorant man fall into the hands of the gauger. I shall give you five pounds for the lot." Paddy Corbett, who had been buoyed up by the hope of making two hundred per cent, of his lading, now seeing all his gainful views vanish into thin air, was loud and impassioned in the ex- pression of his disappointment. "Oh, Jillian Dawly !" he cried, swinging himself to and fro, "Jillian, aroon manima, what'U ye say to yer man, afther throwing out of his hand the half year's rint tlmt he had to give theagint? Oh, what'll ye say, aveen, but that I med a purty padder-napeka of myself, lis- tening to Shane Glas, the yellow schamer; or what'll Sheelabcg, the crathur, say, whin Tim Murphy won't take her without the cows that I won't have to give her ? Oh, Misther Pigtail, avour- neen, be marciful to an honest father's son; don't take me short, avoumeen, an' that God might take you short. Give me the tin pounds it cost me, an' I'll pray for yer sowl, both now an' in the world to come. Oh, Jillian, Jillian, I'll never face yc, nor Shec- labeg, nor any o' the crathur's agin, without the tin pound, any- how." "Well, if you don't give the tobacco to me for less than that, you can call on one Mr. Pry well, at the other side of the bridge; he deals in such articles, too. You see I cannot do more for you, but you may go farther and fare worse," said the perfidious tobacconist, as he directed the unfortunate man to the residence of Mr. Paul Pry well, the officer of excise. With heavy heart, and anxious eye peering in every direction beneath his broad-leafed hat, Paddy Corbett proceeded till he reached a private residence having a green door and a brass knocker. He hesitated, seeing no shop nor appearance of busi- ness there; but, on being assured that this was indeed the house of Mr. Paul Prywell, he approached, and gave the door three thundering knocks with the butt end of his holly-handled whip. The owner of the domicile, roused by this very unceremonious PADDY CORBETTS FIRST SMUGGLING TRIP. 203 mode of announcement, came forth to demand the intruder's business, and to wonder that he would not prefer giving a single rap with the brass knocker, as was the went of persons in his grade of society, instead of sledging away at the door like a •'peep-o'»day boy." " Yer honor will excuse my bouldness, " said Paddy, taking off his hat, and scraping the mud before and behind him a full yard; "excuse my bouldness, for I never seed such things on a duxe afore, an' I wouldn't throuble yer honor's house at all at all, only in regard of a taste of goods that I was tould would shoot yer honor. Ye can have it, a-yinusal, for less than nothmg, 'case I don't find myself in heart to push on farther; for the baste is slow, the crathur, an' myself that's saying it, making buttons for fear o* the gauger." "Who, might I ask," said the astonished officer of excise, " directed you here to sell smuggled tobacco?" " A very honest gintleman, but a bad buyer, over the bridge, sir. He'd give but five pound for what cost myself tin — foreer dhota, that \ had ever had a hand in it ! I put the half year's rint in it, yer honor; and my thirteen femul grawls an' their mother, God help 'em, will be soon on the sachrawn. I'll never go home without the tin pound, anyhow. High hanging to ye, Shane Glas, ye tallow-faced thief, that sint me smuggling. Oh, Jillian, 'lis sogering I'll soon be, with a gun an my shoulder !" "Shane Glas!" said the exciseman; "do you know Shane Glas? I'd give ten pounds to see the villain." " 'Tis myself does, yer honor, an' could put yer finger an him, if I had ye at Tubber-ha-Treenoda, saving yer presence; but as I was setting away, he was lying undher an old quilt, an' I heard him telling that the priest said he had spotted fever enough for a thousand min. ' ' " That villain will never die of spotted fever, in my humble opinion," said the exciseman. ' " A good judgment in yer mouth, sir, achree. I heard the rogue himself say, ' Bad cess to the thief! that a cup-tosser tould him he'd die of stoppage of breath.* But won't yer honor allow me to turn in the lafe o' tibaccy ?" 204 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. The officer of excise was struck with deep indignation at the villainy of him who would mi n a comparatively innocent man when he failed in circumventing him, and was resolved to pun- ish his treachery. " My good fellow, " said he, "you are now before the gauger you dread so much, and I must do my duty, and seize upon tlie tobacco. However, it is but common justice to punish the false-hearted traitor tliat sent you hither. Go back quickly, and say that he can have the lot at his own terms; I shall follow close, and yield him the reward of his treachery. Act discreetly in this good work of biting the biter, and on the word of a gentleman I shall give you ten pounds more." Paddy rapidly retraced his steps, ejaculating as he went along, "Oh, the noble gintleman, may the Lord make a bed in Heaven for his sowl in glory ! Oh, that chating imposthor, 'twas sind- ing the fox to mind the bins, sure enough. Oh, high hanging to him of a windy day ! the informer o* the world, I'll make him sup sorrow." "Have you seen the gentleman I directed you to?" said Mr. Pigtail. " Arrah, sir, dear, whin I came to the bridge an' looked about me, I thought that every roguish-looking fellow I met was the thief of a gauger, an' thin afther standing a while, quite am- plushed with the botheration and the dread upon me, I forgot yer friend's name, an' so kim back agin to ax it, if ye plase." "You had better take the five pounds than venture again; there's a gauger in town, and your situation is somewhat dan- gerous." " A gauger in town !" cried Paddy Corbett, with well-aflected surprise. "What'll I do at all at all ? now I'm a gone man all out. Take it for anything ye like, sir, dear, an' if any throuble like this should ever come down an ye, it will be a comfort and a raycreation to yer heart to know that yc had a poor man's bless. ing, avick dcclish machree, an' I give it to ye on the knees of my heart, as ye desarved it, an' that it may go in yer road, an' yer childre's road, late an' early, eating an' dhrinking, lying an' rising, buying an' selling." PADDY CORBETTS FIRST SMUGGLING TRIP. 20$ Our story has approached its close : the tobacco was safely stowed inside, in order to be consigned to Mr. Pigtail's private receptacle for such contraband articles. Paddy had just pocket- ed his five pounds, and at that moment in burst Mr. Pry well. The execration which ever after pursued the tobacconist for his treacherous conduct, and the heavy fine in which he was amerced, so wrought upon his health and circumstances, that in a short time he died in extreme poverty, and it is upon record, among the brave and high-minded men of Duhallow, that Jeffrey Pigtail of Kanturk was the only betrayer that ever disgraced the barony. a06 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. HANNABERRY THE PIPER. The County Wexford, of all parts of Ireland, is peculiarly rich in legends, traditions and fairy tales. In former days, before the advent of the newspaper press and the national schoolmaster, there was not a district, town or village within its borders but boasted of its story-teller, who was generally the depository of all the man'ellous and uncanny events that had taken place in the neigi-borhood for ages past. But in these days of railroads, telegraphs, schools and cheap literature, the long-honored tribe of story-tellers is disappearing, even in the County of Wexford. A few remain, however, to this day, but their occupation has fearfully fallen into desuetude. Some of them may still be found lingering around their old haunts at the glowing fire- sides of comfortable farmers, but many of them were swallowed up in tliat great stream of immigration that poor old Erin has been pouring on our American shores for the last half century. Of the latter was Jimmy Chili, who, though he bore a name that savored of South America, was as true a Wexfordian as ever danced a ji^ in New Ross, from which good old town he hailed. I first became acquainted with Jimmy when he was a "young- ster" in tho ancient colony of Newfoundland. Like myself, he was then employed in the dangerous but profitable occupation of seal hunting. In the intervals of the hunt, and in the long winter nights, seated around the forecastle fire, he often beguiled the tedium of the s^low passing hours with story, jest and song. Jimmy was a firm lielieverin witchcraft, ghosts, fairies, warnings, second siglit, and all the mysteries which are supposed to hedge in die supernatural order. Whether he believed in his own tales or not I cannot say ; but certain he always delivered himself of HANNABERRY THE PIPER. 207 them, particnlarly when they related to ghosts and fairiesj^fn such a solemn, oracular way, as to carry conviction to his hearers among the simple fishermen and seal hunters of Newfoundland. I well remember one night, after having made everything snug on deck, we were seated at the forecastle fire. After Jimmy had drank Ms tea, filled his pipe and smoked it, he was called upon for a story. •' Be gob, boys," said he in response, "I'll tell you the story of Harinaberry the Piper and the Marquis of Waterford. Hanna- berry was the greatest piper in all the country around New Ross. Divil a marriage, christening, fair or wake widin' miles but he would be at wid his pipes, and thim were the pipes, don't be talking." I wlQ not attempt, however, to give the story verbatim in Jimmy's vernacular, but that was the opening sentence. What follows I shall relate as concisely as possible, and keeping as near the original text as I can. " One night," Jimmy went on, " Hannaberry, who had been to the fair of Taghmon, which is situated between New Ross and Wexford town, was returning home, with his pipes, as usual, under his arm. He had passed a meiTy day of it, and, as a con- sequence, felt pretty much as Tarn O'Shanter, of Scottish memory, felt when he pronounced himself victorious over all the ills of life. Down came Hannaberry, in this jolly mood, along the road to New Ross. From Taghmon to his home it was a goodly walk, and after the fatigues of the day it was only natural that he should feel a trifle tired. When he came to the old lime-kiln, that is exactly four miles from Ross bridge, he thought hs would rest himself and have a pull at his old diidhccn; 'twould refresh him and waken up his faculties, which were, in ain.nnner, l)ecom- ing oblivious. He had no sooner conceived the idea than he proceeded to carry it into execution by seating himself on the sloping ground that led to the top of the lime-kiln, lighting his pipe and commencing to smoke. Before seating himself he laid his beloved pipes carefully away in a nook of the kiln. He had not smoked long before a dreamy, drowsy, undefinable sensation 208 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. Crept over him. The smoke from his pipe appeared to resolve itself into a mysterious halo of light, which gradually began to enshroud him. Suddenly he heard the most delicious strains of music proceeding from a short distance behind where he was seated. Never had such strains been produced on Irish pipes as Hannaberry now listened to, and turning, he beheld a sight which struck him with awe and astonishment. Coming towards him, with the pipes under his arm, was a little, a very little, old man, nattily dressed in green. The little old man handled the pipes with the most consummate skill and grace, and, standing before the astonished Hannaberry, he played twelve of the most delight- ful and patriotic airs in a style the most lovely and bewitching. When he had ceased playing he laid down the pipes, and, fixing a pair of piercing black eyes on the bewildered piper, addressed him thus: " 'Why, then, Mick Hannaberry, it's yourself that's a brave man, by daring to sit down so comfortably in a fairy rath. I have been here now bordering on five hundred years, and you are the first man that has had the courage to cross the magic ring and rest himself in my domains. And now, me man, let me tell you that you have conferred a favor on me that shall not go unre- warded.' "When the little old man in green had stopped speaking, he lifted the pipes from the ground, and placing tliem under Hanna- berry's arm, he ordered the now fairly bewildered piper to strike up a tune. Hannaberry at first was very timid and bashful, par- ticularly after hearing such beautiful music from the fairy, as he now fully knew him to !:«. He pleaded weariness and inability, but the little old man with a cjuiet dignity awed, while at the same time he reassured, the piper into a compliance with his de- mand, and Mick Hannaberry struck up a jig so lively and soul- stirring, that the performer himself was completely surprised at the delicacy and proficiency with which he handled the keys of his instrument. Tune after tune, to the number of twelve, was rat- tled off on the pipes, by the now thoroughly delighted piper, who already began to congratulate himself on the great advantage HANNABERRY THE PIPER. 2O9 his increased proficiency in his art would give him over his less fortunate rivals, who had never stumbled into a fairy rath to be- come acquainted with its occult mysteries. The little man in green eyed the piper all the while with the keenest and shrewdest glances, apparently reading the thoughts that were uppermost in his mind. " * Be aisy, now, Mick,' said he, ' and lay down the pipes till I explain. As I said afore, yours is the first mortyal face of a piper that I have set eyes on in this sacred ring for five himdred years. ' " ' Be gorra, then, that's a long time, your honor,' said Mick in reply, looking out curiously from under the rim of his old hat at the little old man in green, and wondering all the while what was coming next. " ' Yes, five hundred weary years have I been imprisoned here, till this blessed night, when some good chance has sent you to my relief. And Mick, me man, I'll forever bless the day you came to relieve me, besides assisting you to make your fortune.' " ' It's thankful I am to your honor,' replied Mick, still feeling not quite at ease, and wishing in his heart that he was safely at home with the old woman and children. '"There is a condition, however, ' said the little old man in green, ' and, unfortunately, one that cannot be dispensed with. It is inseparable from my unfortunate position, and in many respects will counterbalance the great benefit conferred upon you. When you leave here to-night your fame will be abroad through all the country; indeed, it will not be confined to poor old Ireland, but will be spread throughout the whole of the three kingdoms. Your sei"vices will be in great request. Your pipes, by merely placing them on a table, will be operated upon by an unseen agency, and the most delicious music will be produced; but,' and here the little old man's face assumed a grave aspect, ' every time the pipes are played you will lose a near relative by death. This is the ineNdtable condition, which you must either accept or remain with me until another piper comes to your relief and mine. Five hundred years ago, when in the flesh, like you, I was a piper. I 210 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. wasted my days in mirth, joviality and song. I was idle and encouraged idleness in others, and as a punishment for my thoughtless conduct, I was condemned to pass ages in the narrow confines of this rath. I was to be freed, however, when a man of my own profession would voluntarily come within the magic circle which surrounds my limited domains. It has been your fortune to be the man, and whether that fortune is to be good or evil for you your future conduct will tell. Take your pipes, you are now at liberty to go; but do not forget the penalty that is attached to your music, and remember, also, you must never re- fuse a reasonable request for your services as a piper. ' " The halo of light gradually faded away, and the dazed Hanna- berry found himself cold, benumbed and damp, his pipes beside him, and still seated on "the side of the little mound that led to the top of the lime kilns. He rubbed his eyes and wondered if it was not all a dream, and if he had not taken too much whisky, and whether the little old man in green and the music was not a phantom of a disordered brain. But no, it must have been a reality; for there, sure enough, was the fairy ring all around him, and no true Irish piper could ever doubt the evidence of his senses, when he was environed by so palpable a fact as that. "With many misgivings and doubts he got up and started for his home, and the way he put himself over the ground between the old lime kiln and Ross bridge was wonderful to behold. The next morning, bright and early, before Hannaberry was awake, a well-to-do farmer from a neighboring district was after him to come and play at his daughter's wedding, which was about to take place. With the recollection of the scenes of last night still fresh in his mind, the poor piper faltered and hesitated for some time. The farmer wondered at his reluctance, and at his mysterious and absent manner. Such conduct was unusual in Hannaberry, and the farmer thought he would try what effect a glass or two would have upon him. In Hannaberry's depressed condition the whisky worked a magic charm. After imbibing he at once recovered his assurance and old spright- liness and promised to attend the wedding of the farmer's HANNABERRY THE PIPER. 211 daughter on the following night. And sure enough, when the guests assembled at the fanner's at the appointed time, there was the piper with his pipes promptly on hand. When he made his appearance in the dancing-room, he placed his pipes on the table, and went to congratulate the new-married pair. In the mean time the lads and lasses had ranged themselves on the floor in sets for the dance, and the word went around, ' Strike up the music, Hannaberry !' No sooner had the request been made, than the pipes on the table commenced to play the most beautifiil dancing tunes that had ever been heard in those parts. Hanna- berry was as much astonished at first as any of the company ; but by a powerful effort of the will he controlled his emotions, mut- tering only to himself, ' Be gorra, I am an enchanted man, sure- ly. ' The dancers turned to the piper for an explanation, charg- ing him with witchcraft, the black art, and all other kinds of magic. Determined to make the best of a bad job, and now per- fectly self-possessed, Hannaberry replied, ' Be aisy now, boys; Sure it's only a new invention of me own in the the musical line. Sarrs^ a thing yez need do but dance, and I'll furnish the music. Dance away, and never a hair of yer head will be hurt.' His coolness reassured them, his advice was good, the music was bet- ter, the guests in good humor, and so on the light fantastic toe they tripped the merry hours away imtil the dawning of another day. When poor Hannaberry returned home in the morning, a new and sad revelation broke in upon him. His mother-in-law, stark and stiff, lay dead in the house. His wife informed him that about midnight the family Banshee had set up the death-cry in the garden behind the house; that shortly after her mother was taken suddenly faint, and gave up the ghost in a short time, before a doctor or any other person could be called to her assist- ance. This was a stunning blow to the piper. Of what use was the great gift of musical proficiency, if, on every occasion it was exercised, he was to lose a near and dear relative ? For, strange as it may appear, he really loved his mother-in-law. But as the little old man in green had predicted, Hannaberr}''s fame spread over ail Ireland. It was the theme of conversation in all circles. 2 12 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. high and low. At last it came to the ears of the Marquis of VVaterford, who was at that time the leading sporting man in all Ireland. The marquis was well known as the greatest bet- ting man of his day, and on a certain evening after dinner, in conversation with his guests, English and Scotch noblemen, he boldly asserted that Mick liannaberry was the greatest piper in all the three kingdoms. Of course no patriotic English or Scotch nobleman could admit this. The marquis, however, insisted on the truth of his assertion, and offered to back it up by staking the whole of his immense estates on the issue of a contestwith the pipes between Hannaberry and any other piper that England or Scotland could produce. His challenge was instantly accepted by an English nobleman, who stipulated that the trial of skill should come off in London, before the Court and all the nobility. The next day the marquis sought out Hannaberry, and told him what he had dune. The poor piper had not yet forgotten the mysterious death of his mo- ther-in-law, and in consequence received the proposal of the marquis to go to London to play rather coolly. ' Hanna- berry,' said the marquis, ' the best farm on my estate shall be given to you and yours while grass grows and water runs, if you come with me to London ; and besides, man, isn't my whole estate bet upon you, and for the honor of old Ireland, surely, you would not see me deprived of my estates by the bluff of any Englishman that ever lived ? ' " This fervent appeal settled the question, and Harnaberry agreed to accompany the marquis to London to test the skill of the best English and Scotch pipers. The next day the marquis, with the piper and a large retinue, set out for Lon- don, where they arrived in due time. The scene of the trial of skill was to be in the palace court-yard, before the Queen and all the highest nobility of the land. When the great day arrived, pipers from England and Scotland, including the Duke of Argyle's own piper, were on hand to contest the mar- quis' claim for the championship of Hannaberry. The poor fellow himself felt somewhat abashed when he stepped into the arena with his pipes, but the recollection of the little old man in green cheered him up. Seated around in a vast am- HANNABERRY THE PIPER. 213 phitheatre was the Queen, Prince Albert, the Duke of Well- ington, and all the other great nobles of the land, arrayed in the most dazzling uniforms it was possible to imagine. Out from the gaily-dressed crowd stepped the Marquis of Water- ford, and called for a table. It was brought instantly, and Hannaberry placed the pipes upon it. Moved by the unseen agency of the fairies, the pipes struck up and produced the most ravishing music, to the astonishment and delight of the vast audience. After the twelve tunes were played in grand style, the marquis stepped out and said : ' Show me the man in England or Scotland that can bate that,' " ' The divil a man in England or Scotland either,' said the Duke of Wellington, ' that can bate that, and its proud I am this day — yis, as proud as I was the day I bate^the Frinch at Waterloo — that a countryman of mine can take the shine out of the whole world on the pipes. Be off home with you now, Hannaberr}', and good luck to you ; and, marquis, mind you treat him well. ' " *Be dad, I'll do that same,' replied the marquis. And he did ; for on their return to Ireland he settled, as he had promised, the finest farm on his estate on the victorious piper, whose good fortune was rather dampened, however, when he was told that his uncle and his aunt, too, had died at the very time the shouts of victory were going up for him from the aristocracy in London. " He never played the pipes after that, and, for all I know, he still lives on the same farm," said Jimmy Chili, as he lit his pipe and went on deck to take his trick at the wheel. 214 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. THE IRISH FIDDLER. In my native parish there were four or five fiddlers — all good in their way ; but the Paganini of the district was the far-famed Mick#^ M'Rorey. Where Mickey properly lived I never could actually discover, and for the best reason in the world — he was not at home once in twelve months. As Colley Cibber says in the play, he was "a kind of a here-and-thereian — a stranger nowhere." This, however, mattered little ; for though per- petually shifting day after day from place to place, yet it some- how happened that nobody ever was at a loss where to find him. The truth is, he never felt disposed to travel incog., because he knew that his interest must sutler by doing so ; the consecjuence was, that wherever he went, a little nucleus of local fame always attended him, which rendered it an easy matter to find his where- abouts. Mickey was blind from his infancy, and, as usual, owed to the small-pox the loss of his eyesight. He was about the middle aze, of rather a slender make, and possessed an intelligent countenance, on which beamed that singular expression of in- ward serenity so peculiar to the blind. His temper was sweet and even, but capable of rising through the buoyancy of his own humor to a high pitch of exhilaration and enjoyment. The dres3 he wore, as far as I can remember, was always the same in color and fabric — to wit, a brown coat, a sober-tinted cotton waistcoat, grey stockings, and Ijlack corduroys. Poor Mickey ! I think 1 see him before me, liis head erect, as the heads of all blind men are, the fidJle-case under his left arm, and his hazel staff held out like a feeler, explormg with experimental pokes tlie nature of the ground before him, even although some happy THE IRISH FIDDLER. 215 urchin leads him onward with an exulting eye ; an honor which he will boast to his companions for many a mortal month to come. The first time I ever heard Mickey play was also the first I ever heard a fiddle. Well and distinctly do I remember the occasion. The season was summer — but summer was summer then — and a new house belonging to Frank Thomas had been finished, and was just ready to receive him and his family. The floors of Irish houses in the country generally consist at first of wet clay ; and when this is sufficiently well smoothed and hardened, a dance is known to be an excellent thing to bind and prevent them from cracking. On this occasion the evening had been appointed, and the day was nearly half advanced, but no appearance of the fiddler. The state of excitement in which I found myself could not be described. The name of Mickey M'Rorey had been ringing in my ears for I don't know how long, but I had never seen him, or even heard his fiddle. Every two minutes I was on the top of a little eminence looking out for him, my eyes straining out of their sockets, and my head dizzy with the prophetic expectation of rapture and delight. Human patience, however, could bear this painful suspense no longer, and I privately resolved to find Mickey or perish. I accordingly proceeded across the hills, a distance of about three miles, to a place called Kilnahushogue, where I found him waiting for a guide. At this thne I could not have been more than seven years of age ; and how I wrought out my way over the lonely hills, or through what mysterious instinct I was led to him, and that by a path, too, over which I had never travelled befots, must be left unrcvcalcd, until it shall please that Power which guides the bee to its home, and the bird for thousands of miles through the au", to disclose the principle upon which it is accomplished. On our return home I could see the young persons of both sexes flying out to the little eminence I spoke of, looking eagerly towards the point we travelled from, and immediately scampei- ing in again, clapping their hands, and shouting with delight. 2l6 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. Instantly the whole village was out, young and old, standing for a moment to satisfy themselves that the intelligence was correct ; after which, about a dozen of the youngsters sprang forward, with the speed of so many antelopes, to meet us, whilst the elders returned with a soberer but not less satisfied manner into the houses. Then commenced the usual battle, as to who should be honored by permission to carry the fiddle-case. Oh, that fiddle-case ! For seven long years it was an honor exclusively allowed to myself, whenever Mickey attended a dance anywhere at all near us ; and never was the Lord Chancellor's mace — to which, by the way, with great respect for his lordship, it bore a considerable resemblance — carried with a prouder heart or a more exulting eye. But so it is — " These little things are great to little nun." "Blood alive, Mickey, you're welcome!" "How is every bone of you, Mickey? Bedad we gev ye up." "No, we didn't give you up, Mickey ; never hesd him ; sure we knew very well you'd not desart the Towny boys — whoo ! — Fol de rol lol !" "Ah, Mickey, won't you sing ' There was a wee devil come over the wall?" "To be sure he will, but wait till he comes home and gets his dinner first. Is't off an empty stomach you'd have him to sing?" "Mickey, give me the fiddle-case, won't you, Mickey!" "No, to mc, Mickey." "Never heed them, Mickey ; you promised it to me at the dance in Carntaul. " " Aisy, boys, aisy. The truth is, none of yez can get the fiddle-case. Shibby, my fiddle, hasn't been well for the last day or two, and can't l)ear to be carried by any one barrin' meself " " Blood alive ! sick, is it, Mickey ? — and what ails her ?'' "Why, some o' the doctors says there's a frog in her, and others that she has colic ; but I'm going to give her a dose of Balgriffauns when I get up to the house aI)ove." As we went along, Mickey, with his usual tact, got out of us all the infor.nation respecting the several courtsliips of the neigh- borhood that had reached us, and as much, too, of the village gossip and scandal as we knew. Nothing can exceed the overflowing kindness and affection THE IRISH FIDDLER. Jiy with which the Irish fiddler is received on the occasion of a dance or merry-making; and to do him justice he loses no opportunity of exaggerating his own importance. From habit, and his posi- tion among the people, his wit and power of repartee are neces- sarily cultivated and sharpened. Not one of his jokes ever fails — a circiimstance which improves his humor mightily ; for noth- ing on earth sustains it so much as knowing that, whether good or bad, it will be laughed at. Mickey, by the way, was a bachelor, and, though blind, was able, as he himself used to say, to see through his ears better than another could through the eyes. He knew every voice at once, and every boy and girl in the parish by name, the moment he heard them speak. On reaching the house he is bound for, he either partakes of, or at least is offered, refreshment, after which comes the ecstatic moment to the yoimgsters; but all this is done by due and solenm preparation. First he calls for a pair of scissors, with which he pares or seems to pare his nails; then asks for a piece of rosin, and in an instant half a dozen boys are off at a break -neck pace, to the next shoemaker's, to procure it; whilst in the meantime he deliberately pulls a piece out of his pocket and rosins his bow. But, heavens ! what a ceremony the opening of that fiiddle-case is ! The manipulation of the blind man as he runs his hand down to the key-hole — the turning of the key — the taking out of the fiddle — the twang twang — and then the first ecstatic sound, as the bow is drawn across the strings; then comes a screwing; then a delicious saw or two; again another screwing — twang twang— and away he goes with the favorite tune of the good woman, for such is the etiquette upon these occasions. The house is immediately thronged with the neighbors, and a preliminary dance is taken, in which the old folks, with good humored vio- lence, are literally dragged out, and forced to join. Tlien come the congratulations — "Ah, Jack, you could do it wanst," says Mickey, "an' can still; you have a kick in you yet." "Why, Mickey, I seen dancin' in my time," the old man will reply, his brow relaxed by a remnant of his former pride, and the hilarity of the moment, " but you see the breath isn't what it used to be Zlfi THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. wid me, when I could dance the Baltcorum yig on the bottom of a ten-gallon cask. Heigho ! — well, well — I'm sure I thought my dancin' days wor over " " Bedad an' you wor matched anyhow," rejoined the fiddler. " Molshy carried as light a heel as ever you did; sorra a woman of her years ever 1 seen could cut the buckle wid her. You would know the tune on her feet still." "Ah, Mickey, the thruth is," the good woman would say, " we have no sich dancin' now as there was in my days." " But as good fiddlers, Molshy, eh ? Come now, »it down, Jack, till I give you your ould favorite, ' Cannie Soogah.^ " These were happy moments and happy times, which might well be looked upon as picturing the simple manners of country life with very little of moral shadow to obscure the cheerfulness which lit up the Irish heart and hearth into humble happiness. Mickey, with his usual good nature, never forgot the younger portion of the audience. After entertaining the old and full- grown, he would call for a key, one end of which he placed in his mouth, in order to make the fiddle sing for the children their favorite song, beginning with " Oh ! grandmamma, will you squeeze my wig ?" This he did in such a manner, through the medium of the key, that the words seemed to be spoken by the instrument, and not by himself. After this was over, he would sing us, to his own accompaniment, another favorite. " There was a wee devil looked over the wall," which generally closed that portion of the entertainment so kindly designed for jts. Upon those moments I have often witnessed marks of deep and pious feeling, occasioned by some memoiy of the absent or the dead, that were as beautiful as they were afiecting. If, for instance, a favorite son or daughter happened to be removed by death, the father or mother, remembering the air which was loved Ijest by the departed, would pause a moment, and with a voice full of sorrow, say, " Mickey, there is one (ii?ie that I would like to hear; I love to think of it, and to hear it; I do for the sake of them that's gone — my darlin' son that's lyin' low, THE IRISH FIDDLER. 2I9 it was he that loved it. His ear is closed against it now; but for his sake — aye, for your sake, avoumeen machree — we will hear it wanst more." Mickey always played such tunes in his best style, and amidst a silence that was only broken by sobs, suppressed moanings, and the other tokens of profound sorrow. These gushes, how- ever, of natural feeling soon passed away. In a few minutes the smiles returned, the mirth broke out again, and the lively dance went on as if their hearts had been incapable of such affection for the dead — affection at once so deep and tender. But many a time the light of cheerfulness plays along the stream of Irish feeling, when cherished sorrow lies removed from the human eye far down from the surface. These preliminary amusements being now over, Mickey is conducted to the dance-house, where he is carefully installed in the best chair, and immediately the dancing commences. It is not my purpose to describe an Irish dance here, having done it more than once elsewhere. It is enough to say that Mickey is now in his glory; and proud may the young man be who fills the honorable post of his companion, and sits next him. He is a living storehouse of intelligence, a travelling directory for the parish^the lover's text-book — the young woman's best compan- ion; for where is the courtship going on of which he is not cogni- zant ? where is there a marriage on the tapis, with the particulars of which he is not acquainted ? He is an authority whom no- body would think of questioning. It is now, too, that he scat- ters his jokes about; and so correct and well trained is his ear, that he can frequently name the young man who dances, by the peculiarity of his step. "Ah ha! Paddy Brien, you're there? Sure I'd know the sound of your smoothin' -irons anywhere. Is it thrue, Paddy, that you wor sint for down to Errigle Keerogue, to kill the clocks for Dan M'Mahon ? But, nabuklish ! Paddy, what'U you have ? " Is that Grace Reilly on the flure ? Faix, avoumeen, you can do it; devil o' your likes I see anywhere. I'll lay Shibby a20 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. to a penny trump that you could dance your own nanaetake — ^the Calleen dhas dkun, the bonny brown girl — upon a spider's cob- web, widout breakin' it. Don't be in a hurry, Grace, dear, to tie the knot; y/Zwait for you." Several times in the course of the night a plate is broaglit round, and a collection made for the fiddler; this was the mo- ment when Mickey used to let the jokes fly in every direction. The timid he shamed into liberality, the vain he praised ; and the niggardly he assailed by open hardy satire; all managed, however, with such an under-current of good humor, that no one could take oflense. No joke ever told better than that of the broken string. Whenever this happened at night, Mickey would call out to some soft fellow, " B16od alive, Ned Martin, will you bring me a candle?— I've broken a string." The un- thinking young man, forgetting that he was blind, would take the candle in a hurry, and fetch it to him. "Faix, Ned, I knew you ww jist fit for't; houldin' a candle to a dark man ! Isn't he a beauty, boys ? — look at him, girls — as cute as a pancake." It is unnecessary to say that the mirth on such occasions was convulsive. Another similar joke was also played off by him against such as he knew to be ungenerous at the collection. "Paddy Smith, I want a word wid you. I'm goin' across the counthry as far as Ned Donnelly's, and I wan't you to help me along the road, as the night is dark." " To be sure, Mickey. I'll bring you over as snug as if you were on a clane plate, man alive ! ' ' "Thank you, Paddy; throth, you've the dacency in you; an' kind father for you, Paddy. Maybe I'll do as much for you some other time." Mickey never spoke of this imtil the trick was played off, af- ter which he published it to the whole parish; and Paddy of course was made a standing jest for being so silly as to think that night or day had any difference to a man who could not see. Thus passed the life of Mickey M'Rorey, and thus pass the lives of most of his class, serenely and happily. As the sailor THE IRISH FIDDLER. 221 to his ship, the sportsman to his gun, so is the fiddler attached to his fiddle. His hopes and pleasures, though limited, are fiill. His heart is necessarily light, for he comes in contact with the best and brightest side of life and nature; and the consequence is that their mild and mellow lights are reflected on and from himself. I am ignorant whether poor Mickey is dead or not; but I dare say he forgets the boy to whose young spirit he com- municated so much delight, and who often danced with a buoy - ant and careless heart to the pleasant notes of his fiddle. Mickey M'Rorey, farewell ! Whether living or dead, peace be with you. ;222 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. BARNY O'GRADY. Behold me safely landed at Philadelphia, with one hundred pounds in my pocket — a small sum of money, but many, from yet more trifling beginnings, have grown rich in America. Many passengers who came over in the same ship with me had not half so much. Several of them were indeed wretchedly poor. Among others there was an Irishman, who was known by the name of Bamy — a contraction, I believe, for Barnaby. As to his sur- name, he could not undertake to spell it, but he assured me there was no better. This man, with many of his relatives, had come to England, according to their custom, during harvest time, to assist in reaping, because they gain higher wages than Ifi their own country. Bamy had heard that he could get still higher wages for labor in America, and accordingly he and his two sons, lads of eighteen and twenty, took their passage for !Phila- delphia. A merrier mortal I never saw. We used to l-.ear him upon deck, continually singing or whistling his Irish tunes; and I should never have guessed that this man's life had been a se- ries of hardships and misfortunes. When we were leaving the ship, I saw him, to my great sur- prise, crying bitterly ; and upon inquiring what was the rcAUer, he answered that it was not for himself, but for his two sons, he was grieving; because they were to be made red^mptioti mm, that is, they were to be bound to work, during a certain time, for the captain, or for whomsoever he pleased, till the money dus for their passage should be paid. Although I was somewhat surprised at any one's thinking of coining on board a vessel without having one farthing in his pocket, yet I could not for- bear paying the money for this poor fellow. He dropped down BARNY O GRADY. 223: on the deck upon both his knees, as suddenly as if he had been shot, and holding up his hands to heaven, prayed, first in Irish^ and then in English, with fer\'ent fluency, that " I and mine might never want; that I might live long and happy; that success might attend my honor wherever I went, and that I might enjoy for evermore all sorts of blessings and crowns of glory." As I had an English prejudice in favor of silent grati- tude, I was rather disgusted by all this eloquence ; I turned away abruptly, and got into the boat which waited to carry me to- shore. I had now passed three years in Philadelphia, and was not a. farthing the richer, but, alas, a great deal poorer. My inveter- ate habit of procrastination — of delaying eveiything till to- morrow, always stood betwixt me and prosperity. I at last re- solved upon leaving the land of the star-spangled banner; but when I came to reckon up my resources, I found that I could not do sc, unless I disposed of my watch and my wife's trinkets. I was not accustomed to such things, and I was ashamed to go to the pawnbroker's, lest I should be met and recognized by some of my friends. I wrapped myself up in an old surtout, and slouched my hat over my face. As I was crossing the quay, I met a party of gentlemen walking arm in arm. I squeezed past them, but one stopped and looked after me; and though I turned down another street to escape him, he dodged me unper- ceived. Just as I came out of the pawnbroker's shop I saw him posted opposite me; I brushed by; I could with pleasure have knocked him down for his impertinence. By the time that I had reached the comer of the street I heard a child calling after me; I stopped, and a little boy put into my hand my watch, saying, *' Sir, the gentleman says you left your watch and these thingujti- bobs by mistake." " What gentleman ?" " I don't know, but he was one that said I looked like an honest chap, and he'd trust me to run and give you the watch. He is dressed in a blue coat, and went towards the quay. That's all I know." .124 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. On opening the paper of trinkets, I found a card with these words: — " Bartiy — with kind thanks." "Bamy! poor Bamy ! An Irishman whose passage I paid coming to America three years ago. Is it possible ?" I ran after him the way which the child directed, and was so fortunate as just to catch a glimpse of the skirt of his coat as he went into a neat, good-looking house. I walked up and down for some time, expecting him to come out again; for I could not suppose that it belonged to Bamy. I asked a grocer who was leaning over his hatch-door if he knew who lived in the next . house ? "An Irish gentleman of the name of O'Grady." " And his Christian name ?" "Here it is in my books, sir — Bamaby O'Grady." I knocked at Mr. O'Grady's door and made my way into the parlor, where I found him, his two sons, and his wife, sitting very sociably at tea. He and the two young men rose immediately, to set me a chair. " You are welcome, kindly welcome, sir," said he. " This is an honor I never expected, any way. Be pleased to take the seat next the fire. 'Twould be hard, indeed, if you should not have the best seat that's to be had in this house, where we none of us ever should have sat, nor had seats to sit upon, but for you." The sons pulled off my shabby greatcoat and took away my hat, and Mrs. O'Grady made up the fire. There was some- thing in their manner, altogether, which touched me so much that it was with difficulty I could keep myself from bursting into tears. They saw this, and Bamy (for I shall never call him anything else), as he thought that I should like better to hear of public affairs than to speak of my own, began to ask his sons if they had seen the day's paper, and what news there were. As soon as I could command my voice, I congratulated this family upon the happy situation in which I found them, and asked by what lucky accident they had succeeded so well. BARNY O GRADY. 225 " The luckiest accident ever happened meheioxQ or since I came to America," said Bamy, " was being on board the same vessel with such a man as you. If you had not given me the first lift, I had been down for good and all, and trampled under foot, long and long ago. But after that first lift, all was as easy as life. My two sons here were not taken from me — God bless you; for I never can bless you enough fir that. The lads were left to work for me and with me; and we never parted, hand or heart, but just kept working on together, and put all our earnings, as fast as we got them, into the hands of that good woman, and lived hard at first, as we were born and bred to do, thanks be to heaven. Then we swore against all sorts of drink entirely. And as I had occasionally served the masons when I lived a laboring man in the county of Dublin, and knew something of that business, why, whatever I knew I made the most of it, and a trowel felt noways strange to me, so I went to work, and had higher wages at first than I deserved. The same with the two boys: one was as much of a blacksmith as would shoe a horse, and the other a bit of a carpenter; so the one got plenty of work in the forges, and the other in the dock- yards as a ship-carpenter. So, early and late, morning and evening, we were all at the work, and just went this way struggling on even for a twelvemonth, and found, with the high wages and constant employ we had met, that we were getting greatly better in the world. Besides, my wife was not idle. When a girl, she had seen baking, and had always a good notion of it, and just tried her hand upon it now, and found the loaves went down with the customers, who came faster and faster for them; and this was a great help. Then I turned master mason, and had my men under me, and took a house to build by the job, and that did; and then on to anotlicr; and after build- ing many for the neighbors, 'twas fit and my turn, I thought, to build one for myself, which 1 did out of theirs, without wronging them of a penny. In short," continued Barny, if you were to question me how I have got on so well in the world, upon my conscience, I should answer, we never made Saint Monday, and never put off till to-morrow what we could do to-day." 226 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. I believe I sighed deeply at this observation of Bamy's, not- withstanding the comic phraseology in which it was expressed. " And would it be too much liberty to ask you," said Bamy, " to drink a cup of tea, and to taste a slice of my good woman's bread and butter ? And happy the day we see you eating it, and only wish we could serve you in any way whatsoever." I verily believe the generous fellow forgot at this instant that he had redeemed my watch and wife's trinkets. He would not let me thank him as much as I wished, but kept pressing upon me fresh offers of service. When he found I was going to leave America, he asked what vessel we should go in. I was really afraid to tell him, lest he should attempt to pay for my passage. But for this he had, as I afterwards found, too much delicacy of sentiment. He discovered, by questioning the captains, in what ship we were to sail; and when we went on board, we found him and his sons there to take leave of us, which they did in the most affectionate manner; and after they were gone, we found in the state cabin, directed to me, everything that could be useful or agreeable to us, as sea stores for a long voyage. OROHOO, THE FAIRY MAN. 22/ OROHOO, THE FAIRY MAN. At one time I resided in the neighborhood of the " plains of Boyle," a celebrated pasture country, and was the possessor of a cow whose milk and butter were plentiful in quantity and excel- lent in quality, and materially contributed to the comforts of my family. She was a beautiful and a gentle creature, and I flattered myself that in her I possessed the foundress of a numerous herd, and the germ of a profitable and extensive dairy. The idea was very prevalent there that it was in the power of evil-disposed persons to deprive you of your milk and butter, and I heard many complaints of the kind ; the general voice fastened the imputation on a woman who lived in the vicinity, who was locally termed "the Hawk, "and certainly the fire of her eye and the sharpness of her beak justified the appellation: she was a comely middle-aged person, in rather easy circumstances, her husband being a small farmer; but he lay under the suspicion of being concerned in a murder some time before. She was a re- puted witch, and the entire family were disliked and avoided. One morning in the month of January I was informed that a woman had come into my kitchen, who occupied herself in watching th; motions of the family, without stating her business. On going down, I found her well dressed and well looking, but with a very sinister cast of countenance. On asking if she want- ed me, she said she had heard I was in want of some geese, and that she had a few to dispose of. " How many ?" said I. *' A goose and a gander," she replied. " How much do you want for them?" " Seven-and-sixpence!" I exclaimed in surprise, as the usual price then was from one shilling to one-and-sixpence each. "Why, how many have you ?" as I really thought I had 228 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. made a mistake in the number. " A goose and a gander," said she. "And doyou suppose me to be a goose, to give such a price as that?" said I. " Oh," said she, "they are good geese, and only I wish to serve you, I would not offer them at all." •'Indeed! I am much obliged by your good wishes," said I; " but as I think you want to impose upon me, you must take your geese to another market, for I will not have them at any price, and the sooner you take yourself off the better." She got higly offended, muttered something about my being sorry for re- fusing them, an J went away in high dudgeon; and after she was gone I found it was "the Hawk " who had favored me with the visit. On the same morning a gang of strollers, consisting of tinkers, chimney-sweeps, a brace or two of beggars, and a piper, had pitched their tent on the roadside, a short distance from my resi- dence; the membci-s of the party had distributed themselves over the surrounding district in pursuit of their various avocations; it also happened to be churning day, and my wife having set her vessels in order, was proceeding with her lacteal operations favorably — the milk had cracked, the butter was expected — when the sound of music was heard ; the piper attached to the party had come to give us a specimen of his skill; he favored us with a few Connaught planxties, was duly rewarded, and departed. Shortly after he was gone, two buxom baggages, brown and bare-legged, with cans in their hands, kerchiefs on their heads, and huge massive rings on their fingers, came and demanded an alms. They were told there was nothing then ready, on which one of them asked a drink. " I have nothing to offer you but water," said my wife, "until the chuming's done." " Well, water itself, " said she; on getting which, she took a sup or two, put the re- mainder in her can, and went off; and, strange as it may seem, my butter went too. And from that day in January until May eve following, not a morsel had we from our l^eautiful Brownie. As I did not put faith in witchcraft, I was willing to attribute this to some natural cause affecting the cow, though the milk showed no perceptible change in either quantity or quality; OROHOO, THE FAIRY MAN. 229 neither did she exhibit any symptoms of ailment or disorder, except that she began to cast her hair. She was well supplied with good fodder, comfortably lodged and well attended, and every possible care taken of the milk, but all to no purpose ; the butter was not forthcoming; and for my incredulity I was laughed at by my neighbors. "Your cow is bewitched," cried they; •' and you may as well throw chaff against the wind as tWnkyou will get your butter back till you get the charm." Some said " the Hawk " had it, some that the gypsy took it away in her can, and others that it followed the piper. Be that as it xaay, I had to eat my bread butterless, and brood over my loss, without even the comfort of common condolence. Various were the counter-charms recommended for my adop- tion. " Send for Fraserthe Scotchman from beyond the Lough," said one; " he fears neither man nor fiend, and he will surely get it." " Send for 'the Hawk,' and clip a bit off her ear," said another. " Let them keep their mouths full of water, and never speak while they are churning," said a third. In short, I found there were as many ways of getting it back as there were ol losing it — all equally simple, and probably as efficacious. Thus matters continued until the early part of the month ot April, when one morning a man called, who desired to see me. I found him a light, active, 'cute-looking fellow, low in stature and spare in habit, but sinewy, well set and well knit, and regu- larly smoke-dried. He was pretty well clad in frieze, cord breeches, and yard stockings and pumps; his caubeen on one side, a cutty in his mouth, and a certain jauntiness in his air, and crafty audacity in his look, which seemed to say, " I'd have you to know I'm a clever fellow." " So," said he at once without preamble, " so you've lost your butter." "Yes," said I, " 'tis certainly gone." "Well, if you like, I'll get it for you. My name is Orohoo (O'Hara); I live at Sliev Bawn — the people call me the Fairy man — I can find things that's stole — and I keep the^^arva/fy." "Indeed!" said I; "why, you must be a clever fellow; but can you get my butter ?" 230 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. " Not a doubt of it," said he, "if it is in the country." I had heard of the garvally before, which was described as "a crooked thing like the handle of an umbrella, covered with green baize." It was formerly in much repute for swearing on; "and a terrible thing it was, for if you swore falsely and it round your neck, your mouth would turn to the back of your head, or you'd get such a throttling as you'd never get the better oT." It had latterly, however, lost much of its virtue, or rather of its^ame, by an unbelieving vagabond yoking it on and swearing to a manifest falsehood, without suffering any visible inconvenience. But to return to Orohoo. He made no stipulation; but requiring a deep plsrte, some water and salt, with a little of the cow's milk, he commenced by desiring my wife and me to stand forward. He then asked our names, if I was the owner of the cow, how long I had had her, if that woman was my wife when we had lost our batter, and if we suspected any person for taking it. To these queries I an- swered as was necessary; but to the last I replied, I did not be- lieve in witchcraft. "Don't you believe in fairies?" he asked. "Scarcely," said I. "No matter," said he; "maybe before I'm done you will be lieve in them." He then, in a very solemn manner, poured some water into the plate at three several times. He added the milk in the same manner, and then sprinkled in the salt, using the same formula. He now stirred round the mixture three times with his finger, re- peating the words as before, and desired us to do the same. To this I demurred, for I did not wish to evince any faith in the pro- ceeding by taking an active part; but lie combated my scruples by asking " was it not done in a good name ?" Certainly for so far I saw nothing very objectionable, and my wife feeling no scruple on the subject, at their joint persuasion I did as directed. He next made the sign of the cross over the plate with his hands, and, waving thjm over his head, cut several curious fig- ures in the air, at the same lime muttering an unintelligible jargon OROHOO, THE FAIRY MAN. 23 1 I could not understand, but which, as I could catch a sound or syllable, bore a close affinity to what is called bog Latia. Grad- ually he became much excited; he raved like a demon, stamped with his feet, and threatened with his fists: now his tones were those of supplication or entreaty, anon of abjuration or command; while his eye seemed fixed upon and to follow the motions of some, to us invisible, being, with which he appeared to hold con- verse. Suddenly he gave an unearthly scream, as if in an agony of terror and perturbation, and, holding up his hands as in the act of warding off a threatened danger, he retreated backwards round the room, pursued, as it seemed, by an implacable enemy. Gradually he regained the spot he had left, turned himself to the four cardinal points, making the sign of the cross at each turn, dipped his fingers in the mixture, devoutly blessed himself, anoint- ing his forehead, shoulders, and breast, regained his self-posses- sion, raised his hands and eyes in an attitude of fervent thankful- ness to heaven, wiped the perspiration which profusely streamed from his brow with the cuff of his coat, gradually recovered his breath, and from a state of the greatest possible excitement be- came calm and collected. Now, this was all acting, to be sure, but it was inimitably done, and I confess, even armed as I was with unbelief, it made a pow- erful impression on me. I acknowledge I did not feel at all com- fortable. I did not like the idea of being in the same room with the evil one, who to all appearance was chasing my friend the conjuror round and round it. I felt an indescribable sensation of dread creeping over me, and, if I mistake not, there were a few drops of perspiration on my brow ; and my hair, of which I have not a superabundance, to my apprehension began to get stiff and wiry. My wife, too, clung closely to my side for protection, and the agitation of her mind was evident by the audible action of her heart, which in that case beat only responsive to my own. Having taken breath, he asked for a ribbon, which he passed over his forehead and round his head, and, bringing the ends in front, knotted it over his nose; then twining it round his fingers in the manner children call a cat's cradle, he knelt down and i^2 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. ^ peered through it attentively into the mixture, which I imagined fermented and sent up a blue vapor. After gazing a few seconds ia this manner, " Aha !" said he, " she is not far off that has yoorbuiter^ bring me a lighted candle," which on being brought he placed in the plate. "Now," said he, "both of you kneel down; fio as I do, and say as I say, and we'll have her here directly." "No," said I decidedly, "we will not." I thought we had gone far enough, and was convinted that if what we were engaged in was not an unholy act, it was at least a piece of gross deception, and I would not collhlenance it by any farther participation. " Why, " exclaimed he, " don't you want to get your butter ?" "Yes," said I, " I would like to have my butter, bnt I don't choose to resort to a charm to obtain it." " No doubt this is a charm," said he, " but it is done m a good name; and I have done it before for as good as evor jwu were." " So much the worse," I replied; "the holy ijam& sihould never be profaned in such a manner, and I am sorry {iiy person would be so wicked or so foolish as to encourage you in jour tricks. I neither like you nor your proceedings, and Vic sooner you go about your business the better. ' ' He started to his feet in a passion, blew out the candle, seized the plate, and attempted to throw the contents into the fireplace; but my wife, who did not wish her hearth to be wet, tocscUfrom him and laid it past. He fumed and stormed, said I let him take a great deal of trouble on my account, and insisted on proceed- ing; but I was determined, and, being considerably chafed and annoyed by the transaction, I again ordered him ofif and left him. In a few moments I heard the noise of a violent altercation and scuffle, and I was loudly called on. I hastened to the scene of contention, and found my wife holding Orohoo by the neck, and preventing his departure. " What's all this ?" I exclaimed. "This fellow," said she, "when he was going, took a live coal out of the grate, and told me to take care of my children." OROHOO, THE FAIRY MAN. 233 This he stiffly denied, until confronted by the servant, and I threatened to give him up to the police as an impostor, when he quailed, and acknowledged that he had said so, but that he meant no harm by it. "And sure," said he, " there's no harm in bidding you mind them ; for if your cow was hurt, so may your childre. You're not treating me right," he continued; " I came at the bidding of a friend to do you a good turn, and asked nothing for it, and now you're putting me out; you'll be glad to see me yet, though. But take my advice ; never throw out your Sunday's ashes until Tuesday morning, and always sweep your floor in from, the door to the hearth." And away he went. My heart now beat easy, for I thought we had fairly got rid of the fairy man; but I was to be still further mystified and be- wildered. On examining the plate over which he had held his incantations, we found the contents to be thick, yellow and slimy with a red sediment like globules of blood at the bottom. This seemed extraordinary, as I certainly watched him closely, and did not see him put anything into the plate but milk, water and salt The month now drew near a close, and our bread was still butterless. This often caused the morsel to stick in the throat of my poor dear partner, who felt none of the scruples of conscience with which I was affected, and firmly believed her cow was be- witched. " Here we are, day afler day, losing our substance, and might have it only for your squeamishness in not letting the fairy man finish his job." Thus she would argue, and hesitated not to call me a fool, nay, a downright ass; and indeed my neighbors were much of the same opinion; one of them, a respectable farmer's wife, was par- ticularly pertinacious. "My Robin," said she one evening, as they were harping on the old string, "my Robin was down in Sligo, and he heard that if you got the coulter of a plough, and made it red-hot in the fire while you were churning the butter it would come back; or if you chose to chum on Simday morning before the lark sings, you will surely get it." 234 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "Tempt me no more with your spells or Sabbath -breaking; I will have none of them," said I, impatiently; " I will never bar- ter my peace of mind for a pound of butler, if I should never eat a morsel." But, in truth, my peace of mind was gone, for the continual urg.ng and yammering I was subjected to made me heartily sick, and I inwardly resolved to sell the cow the first opportunity, and so end the matter. On May eve, in the afternoon, I had occasion to leave home for a short time, and on my return was rather surprised to find all the windows closed and the door locked against me. I knocked and called for admittance but received no answer; and hearing the noise of churning going on within, " fast and furious," the truth flashed across my mind, and, lamenting my wife's credulity, I retired to the garden to await the result. In a short time she came running out lilce one demented, clapping her hands and screaming, "Oh ! we've got the butter, we've got the but- ter !" and on going in I found a coulter phizzing and sparkling at a white heat in the fire, an ass's shoe (which had been found a few days previously) under the chum, my worthy neighbor afore- said standing over it, panting and blowing from the exertionsshe had made on my behoof, and wiping the dew-drops from her really comely countenance, and in the churn, floating like lumps of gold in a sea of silver, as fine a churning of butter as ever we were blessed with. Well, I own I was staggered, and being triumphantly asked, "Now, is there no witchcraft or virtue in a red-hot coulter ?" I could scarcely muster up courage to utter " No." In vain I pro- tested the butter came back because " Brownie " got back to her pasture, in consequence of the change in her feeding, from dry fodder to the mellow and genial produce of spring, as the loss at first was owing to the transition from grass to hay. 'Twas to no purpose to argue thus: all else were positive it was ollierwise; but whether the virtue was in Orohoo's incantations, tiie efiicacy of the red-hot coulter, the influence of the ass's shoe, or the tre- OROHOO, THE FAIRY MAN. 235 mendous pommelling the milk was subjected to on the occasion, no one could exactly say. A few days after, I conversed on the subject with an intelligent person, a herd in charge of an extensive stock farm. After hear- ing my story to an end, he indulged in a hearty laugh at my expense. "Faith," said he, "I took you for a sensible man, and did not suppose you would credit such folly." " I'd as soon believe my mother was a bishop," said I, "as put any faith in it some time ago. But how can 1 get over the chain of circum- stantial evidence ? — not a link of it wanting. First, ' thp Hawk' coming with her seven-and-sixpenny geese, then the gypsies and the piper, and losing my butter just then." " 'Tis very easy," said he, "to account for it. In the first place, yoa <.ook your cow from grass and fed her on hay." " Yes, but she 1m But I must tell you how he came to make it. There was a giant on the other side of the water, a great bare-leggit Heelin-man, that had a great loud voice, that used to shout across at Finn: " If I was ower there, I would take the cruceness out you. I would gle ye sich a lickin' as you would ne'er forget." Many a time he tould Shelah about this. But her advice was to him: "Finn, agrah, never mind the budagh. Of course you know you could lick him in ten minutes any day of the week. You can afford to let the cock crow on his own dung hill." Finn saw the truth of all she said. He, as he said himself, had nothing to gain by lickin' a Scotchman. * Few, we should say, of those who visit the Giaiit'i " Caiiscy" arc allowed by the guide to pass unnoticed " the giant's loom" or " the giant's organ." A TALE OF OTHER DAYS. 241 However, as I have said before, Finn was every inch an Irish- man ; and one day the Heelin-man shouted so long and so loud that P'inn lost all patience, and before he let the sun go down he commenced to build the Causey, to let the Scotchman across, that he might give him a useful lesson, just to improve his manners — a service he had done a few other Scotchmen, as I have already tould ye. Whether they were thankful I won't tell you. Any- way, it seemed from the improvement in their manners to have done them a power of good; and one thing is quite certain, it did Finn himself a great deal of good. Often he was heard to say that of all the refreshments he ever tried, the real mountain dew was the best; and that to this he made only one exception, and that was, when the chance came hij way, the pleasure of lickin' a Scotchman. He felt the benefit, he said, of that for months. Well, as I have already tould you, he commenced the Causey, to let this bad-mannered Scotchman get across. Well, the day after it was finished Finn was on the look-out for the Heelin-man 's movements, and he was not long looking when he saw the bould fellow fairly started, with his kilt above his knee; for the Scotch end of the Causey was not above the surface, like the Irish end — which was intended for ornament, or to show his countrymen what good or everlasting work should be^and there it's for a pat- tern till this day. Well, between the depth of the water — over mid-leg — and the caution required to keep on the Causey, Finn was able to see the shape and size of the fellow without being seen himself When he saw of him all he wanted to see just then, he went to have a talk with Shelah, to tell her the Scotchman was coming across. " What do you think of him ?" said Shelah. "Faith," said Finn, "Shelah agra, I don't like his looks at all at all. He's a terrible baste of a fellow. In all ray bom days Pnever saw such a busthoge of a Scotchman. If I hadn't better work to do, I might make a small fortune, after thrashing him, by making a show of him from town to town in his tartans. But I mustn't — for the credit of the ould country I can't do this. I must only lick him and send him home again, as soon as he is 242 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. able to go. So, Shelah, I have no choice as to what I'm to do with this Sawney More (or biy Alicli), as they call him at home in his own country. Thrashing him 'ill no te a small jdb. Of course I can do 't; but it would be as easy to thrash all the com from Uunluce to Ballycastle." After thmking in her own cool, aisy way, Shelah said: "Couldn't he be sent back without taking all that trouble with him ? If you lave it to me I think I can manage it for you. Go you out and see if he's coming and near, and come in and tell me, and I'll tell what to do." " In troth and I will," said Finn, " for I never yet was sorry for doing what ye tould me." Finn went out, and behold ye, the Scotchman was on the Irish shore, wringing some of the water out of his tartans, to be as daicent looking as he could before he would go up to Finn's house before the quality, he said^ Finn went back to hear what Shelah had to say, and her directions to Finn were to lie down in a big cradle he had made years before for twins that at their birth promised that they would be bigger than ever their father was. Finn was determined, as he said, to give tliem room enough to grow, and he made it so large that he could himself lie in it full stretch, ju^t as Shelah tould him to do now, and when "he was in it she tould him what to do when Sawney More would come. Finn was not long in the cradle when Sawney arrived, and he walked in saying, " Gude e'en be here." Of course Shelah bade him sit down, and treated him to the best in the house for the honor of the ould country. Well, when he had Shelah's bread, butter, and eggs before him, he set to as if he had been fasting a fortnight or so for good of his sowl, but he kejjt pack- ing away so long and so determinedly that she began to fear he wouldn't be able to get away without help. However, fliere is a limit to all things, even to the cravings of the maw of a Scotch- man. Sawney, as he said, " fun himself at length well-crammed." Then he turned to the fire and brought out his dndheen for a smoke; and then, too, Finn raised his great head of hair and A TALE OF OTHER DAYS. 243 beard, such as Savvney never saw before. Finn called out in his loudest voice, " Mother, I want something to ate, and I am sure that great baste of a Scotchman has aten up all the ready mate in the house. I watched him, bad luck to the baste; but wait to my father comes in, and I'll tell him all about it." As soon as Savvney found breath to speak, he shouted, "Gude save us, is that the bairn ? And sick a bairn !" "Indeed it's my youngest, and a troublesome bouchal he is." Then she said, " Whisht avic, and I'll get you plenty very soon. Bedehust and sleep." But Sawney could think of nothing but the "awfau bairn." At length he said, "The father o' that ane's nae chicken." " Indeed an' you may say so," said Shelah. " Yonarecoteidered a big fellow, and no doubt you are, among your aen folk, as you say, but when I saw you coming in the door there, you come in with your big Highland bonnet on, and you might have had a man standing on your shoulders and walked in without any diffi- culty. I thought of Finn, who always has to take his hat off, and stoop, too, before he can come in." "Well, well," said Sawney, " he maun', frae a' I bae heard and seen, be nane of the chiels o' last year's growth, but a want- ed to see him jest in a frecndly way, ye ken. A like to make freens where'er a gang, and a see, clear enough, it would be bet- ter to be your gude man's freen nor his enemy; but ouy wiy, I maun be gangin. Tell the gude man a'll come to visit him some other day." " Well, I'm sorry," said Shelah, " in one way, you're gc«agso soon, but in another I'm not sorry. That child," she said, polating to the cradle, " is very hard to manage, and the worst of it is, his father will hear no complaint against him; but he listens to all his, as if it was the priest at the altar, and when he thinks the bouchal has been wronged in any way, he's neither to ho+vld nor to bind. Whoever he believes has wronged him suffers, I can tell you. I could not tell you what complaint he mightn't make against you for eating all the bread and butter and lavin' him to starve; and, tliough no Irishman was ever civiler or kinder to 244 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. strangers than Finn, if a complaint came from his pet — thebouchal there — he'd forget all his other good, kind feelings for a good long hour anyway, and by that lime there would be few whole bones in your body." " Gude preserve us," said Sawney More, "I'm glad you toul' me in time. I hope he'll not be here soon." " I'll take care," said Shelah, " that you'll get off safely. I'll keep a look-out for his coming. I know the way he'll come, and, when I see him, I'll go to meet him. On the way to the house he'll have a great deal to tell me that will take time; anyway, I'll take care to delay him long enough to let you get safe off." By this time Sawney was ready for the road — ready to make the best use of his long legs. He was soon outside the door, where, for a wonder, he took the time to say, "Gude e'en. A'll aye be thankfou to you, gude wife, when I'm far awa. Ye hae been a true freen tae me." Wliat was the story he tould when he got back again I can- not tell you, but he was the first and the last Scotchman that ever ventured on the Causey. WHAT MR, MAGUIRE SAW IN THE KITCHEN. 245 WHAT MR. MAGUIRE SAW IN THE KITCHEN. Mrs. Maguire, wife of Denny Maguire, of the Kilshane Arms, had retired to rest. The church bell was tolling eleven when she took a last look at the room and quenched the candle. It was Saturday night, and Denis, according to immemorial custom, had remained in the parlor to contribute his wit and jocularity to the conversation of a few friends who had returned from a christening, and slipped into the Arms to spend an hour until midnight. The courtesy of her husband was but ill-approved by Mrs. Maguire, who entertained a vague suspicion that the house was haunted by the fairies, or descendants of fairies, who formerly occupied the rath on which the Kilshane Arms was built. Her fears, it is only just to admit, had some foundation. Night after night, when every one was in bed, and only Bill, the watch-dog, was up and abroad, supernatural noises proceeded from the kitchen. Now there came a sharp clatter, as if jugs, and plates, and delft tea-pots had come to grief in a simultaneous collision ; and anon a jingling which foreboded destruction to every wine-glass, tum- bler and decanter on the dresser. Denis had repeatedly listened with eyes a-stare, and mouth open, to those supernatural raani- festations, but, however alarmed he felt, he arlways conbivod to allay his wife's apprehensions by such exclamations as — " Musha, the dickens take that cat !" or, " Will them mice never be aisy ?" Consoled by the practical philosophy of such words, Mrs. Maguire would draw a long sigh, insinuate, in her blandest tones, that "luck never came of meddling with the good people," and so commit herself to the heaven of sleep. The church clock stnick three, and Mis. Maguire awoke. 246 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "Much she marvelled," as the oil ballai has it, that Denis should have prolonged his caroasals to so unseasonable an hour. Her astonishment was increased when, on listening attentively, till the silence tingled in her ears, she could not catch the sound of a single voice or the jingle of a solitary glass from the room in which she had left the revellei-s. To arise, to light a candle, and descend the stairs in search of Denis, was but the work of a few moments. On reaching the ground floor, what was her sur- prise to find that individual, with his back propped up against the kitchen door, his head sunken on his chest, and a broken pipe scattered in fragments by his side, seated fast asleep on the ground. "Dinis," she exclaimed, " Dinis, get up iv ye've any shame left, ye flamin' drunkard;" and with these words she seized him by the collar, and gave him one of those shakes with which a mastiff sometimes honors a spaniel. Denis lazily opened his eyes, and rapidly reclosed them. " I consint," he muttered, " I consint, though it goes hard aginst me, mind yez." " Musha, alanna, do ye hear him ? the unforthinate man that has no more business takin' a dhrop than an omadhaun ! Con- sint, yerra ! come, come, ye'll get yer death o' could, sittin* here, you foolish crathur." Denis received a duplicate of the first shrug, and again un- closed his eyes. "Didn't I tell yez," he exclaimed, with no small show of bitterness — " didn't I tell yez that I consintixl ? And what more does yez want. Ai ! ai ! gour that, you desaver," he continued, addressmg his wife, who was suddenly startled by his altered manner. " Be off wid yer, ould man — do; have yer choice, an' more luck to yez. Arrah, what kem acrass yez, that yez didn't fut it to the North Pole, ai ?" " Oh, then, what is he dhramin' of?" asked Mrs. Maguire, in a voice of tremulous expostulation, ''who is tbe ould man, and what is he sayin' ? Lord betune us an' hnrm iv the North Pole ! He's crackt, crackt entirely, so he is," and she raised her hastily -donned gown to her eyes, and began crying. WHAT MR. MAGUIRS SAW IN THE KITCHEN. 247 *' I'll "bell it all over the parish," groaned Denis, who now sat more upright, and was, to all appearances, rational enough. " Show yer nose at the cross if yez dare, and there's not a girl from the post-office to the tay-shop, but'll pin a tin kittle to yer tail, da-a-rlint!" "Oh, thin, Dinis, Dinis, alanna." " Noneo' yer Dinises tome," screamed Mr. Maguire. " Hould yer tongue, yeh, yeh — gour that, I tell yez," and he shot his fist fiercely at his wife, " Come out iv this, Dinis, dear, and don'tbe ravin' like a mad- man — come." " Yis, av coorse; cock yez up, ai ! Arrah, then, maybe I be bowld to ask yez where's the little lord, ai ? — the nate little lord, with the hump betune his shoulders, and the hape of a pimple on his nose ? Be the mortial frost, but yez was a purty pair, wasn't yez? Lave the house this minit, and be off wid 'im; lave the house, and never darken the doore again." *' Dinis, darlint, ah, thin, what's comin' over yez, to thrate me in this way," sobbed Mrs. Maguire, as she retreated from her husband, who compelled her, with repeated threats, in the direc- tion of the door, "Will yez be off, or say yez won't; will yez?" "I'll do anything, Dinis, to plaze yez." "Thin show us your back, and keep yer face to yerself till 'tis wanted. Out wid yez— out wid yez," and so saying, Mr. Maguire ejected his wife over the threshold into the village street. *'Ye'll be sorry for this, Dinis," exclaimed Mrs. Maguire, turning back for a moment. "Will yez take yerself to the lordheen?" replied Dinis; "shure, he'll want some one to straighten his hump for him, and who'd do it better nor his wife, ai, my jewel ?" " The Lord forgive yez, Dinis." " That's more than yez desarve yerself, at any rate. Top o' the mornin' to yez," and, with this polite wish, Mr. Maguire closed the door and disappeared. Mrs. Maguire, completely mystified by her husband's conduct, 248 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. and wondering what serious change could have deprived -her in one night of the burthen of his affections, turned into the house of a neighbor, and seated herself dejectedly on a three-legged stool, or "creepeen," by the side of the turf fire. She wtis rocking herself to and fro uneasily, whilst her tears came thick and fast and her sobs almost choked her, when the mistress of tte house, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, returned from the bawn and discovered her. " Why, thin, Mrs. Maguire, is it yourselfs afarc me? Oh! the poor woman cryin', I declare cryin' ! Why, tWn, is there anything gone wrong over the way?" "Himself — 'tis himself!" groaned Mrs. Maguire. "Himself, jewel! Arrah, thim min are alwuys crazy when they take a drop or two over night, and 'tis a fool ud mind ''em. My jintleman '11 miss you afore 'tis dark, believe me. He didn't bate yez, did he ? " "No, Mistress Shaughnessy, I'll be bowld, he dida'L He sez to me, sez he, go off wid your lordheen, for a bite or sup ye'U never take agin wid me, sez he." " A lordheen, inagh. Gondoutha, what put that in his head, I wondher ?" "Thim faries, the sarra shoot thim," replied Mrs. Maguire. " Shure I often said, if he had luck or gract^he'd lave 'em alone, and not be meddlin' or makin' with thim that didn^t consam him." Mrs. O'Shaughnessy looked mysterious, and shook her head in token of assent. "Thim ould places doesn't answer Chris- tians, anyhow. I wouldn't sod a lark out iv 'era if there wasn't another green spot in the barony. Here, lave off now, for there's the min comin' to breakfast, and we'll have our tay when they shows their backs, so we will." Somewhat cheered by the prospect of the non -inebriating cup, Mrs. Maguire hastened to indulge hersorrows-in the privacy of an inner room. The lalx>rers soon arrived, and she listened intently to their conversation, in order to satisfy herself that the scandal of which she was the victim had not spread through the village. Nothing occurred to alarm her, however, until one of the men. WHAT MR. MAGUIRE SAW IN THE KITCHEN. 249 whose mouth, judging from the thickness of his articolatien, was embarrassed by the presence of a lumper, exclaimed: "Dick Boulster was done out of his sudden death,* this momin', sure, and sorra the one could spake to him, he was so down m the mouth. ' ' "Begor," remarked another voice, "he must be gom' to the wall entirely, when he'd pass by Dinny Maguire's without pay- ing his respects to the native. ' ' "Faith its toight enough wid him," observed a man with a north Tipperary accent. " Didn't we see him on Friday, stand- ing on one fut at Mick Lalor's bulk, whilst he was gettin' a thieveenf on the other?" "He has a gre.it back in'America, dough," said a man, with an exceedingly weak organ. " De girls send home hapes o' money — I wish he was tirty pounds in my books di? morning." "Musha, talk sinse, " exclaimed the first speaker, "an don't be runnin away wed yourselves, like goms;]: 1 tdl yez that the raisin he hadn't his dhrop is bekase he couldn't get it, and the raisin he couldn't get it is, bekase Dinny wouldn't open the doore, he's getting so holy, gondoutha /" A roar of laughter succeeded the sarcastic comment implied in the last observation. The men soon afterwards rose and left the house, and Mrs. Maguire was preparing to emerge from her hid- ing, when Mrs. O'Shaughnessy exclaimed, in a half whisper: "Be as mute as a mouse, for himself is comin' up the pad- dock." "For the love of God don't say I'm here, or there'll be ruc- tions till Michaelmas!'' " Aisy, now be aisy, till we hears what he sez for himself. Be quiet, alanna, and who knows but it's all for the best." So saying, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy threw herself into a posture of affected inattention, and was merrily humming a milking song, when Dennis Maguire entered the house, looking pale and haggard. * Glass of raw whisky, t Patch of leather. X Fools. 250 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "God bless all here!" he said, with a slight quaver in his voice. *' And you too, Dinis. How's all at home wid yez?" " Purty middlin', begor; we can't complain, ma'am." *' Won't yez sit down and rest yerself, Dinis?" said the lady, driving the cat from a hay-bottomed chair, and handing it to the visitor. " Is herself fine and strongly ?" Dennis groaned. •' Consamin' her, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, I'm afeerd I've put my fut in it." ♦' Fut, agra ! that's a quare thing !" " Mortial quare, ma'am, intirely. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, I'm the manest, ungratefulcst baste in crayation." "Is the man dhramin' wid his eyes open ?" asked the good woman, suspending the operation of washing a butter tub, and looking at the speaker. "Faith, they're open wide enough now, ma'am. If you saw thim this nioniin' airly, 'tisn't that ye'd say, I be bail." " Cobwebs, after the night, yez mane?" " Dust, ma'am — fairy dust that tuk away my five sinses to the other world, and put me beyant meself, and made me turn Biddy out o' doors — made a pote — a rale, live pote o' me intirely, ma'am !" " The dickens take it, sure yez wasn't as bad as all that, Dinis ? Pote, inagh. Shure thim niver has wives or houses, and yez has both, God bless 'em !" "And I don't desarve 'em, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, for I'm a baste, and no mistake, to turn out that kind-hearted crathur on the cowld world, without a bit o' breakfast or a tester in her pocket, av a momin' airly;" and so affected was the speaker by the pathos of his own discourse, that he buried his face between his hands and wept audibly. Mrs. Maguire, who was a breathless listener to all that passed, in the next room, imitated his example with that rare facility for which the female eye-ducts are cele- brated; but she took care to drown her sobs in the folds of her cloak, lest her grief should betray her. "Tut, tut, man, come, don't be killin' yerself that way," in- WHAT MR, MAGUIRE SAW IN THE KITCHEN. 251 sisted Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, in a voice of the kindest sympathy. ••The thruest couple on the face iv the earth will have their thrials and fallin'-outs. But, Dinis, I'm complately bothered to make out the raisin that came over yez, all of a hape, to mal- tlireat poor Biddy. Was she throublesome ?" •' Herself throublesome ! An angel playin' on a harp o' goold isn't her aiquil for civility, ma'am. Oh, that dhrame, that dhran>€ !" '•What dhrame?" asked Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. "Musha, sit down, and ye'll hear the whole of it." Mra. O'Shaughnessy followed the direction, and, after many ifttrodnctory " hems " and " haws," and several apparently inef- fectual efforts to clear his throat, Dennis began : " You must know, ma'am, that last niglit, it being Sathurday, two o' the boys dropped in, betther nor an hour afore midnight, to have a weeny dhrop afore they should lave for home. My mimory may disavc me (that's an ould thrick wid it), but I'd be afeered to say that I tuk more nor six or seven glasses with a dash o' spring water in each iv 'em, to cool them a bit, you know. Ilowsomever, the boys went, and I barred the doore, and I tuk the candle from the hob, and, just as I put my foot on the first step, what do you consave I should hear but the rattlin' and tearin' of spoons, the new spoons we bought at the pattern iv Bmff, and the greatest divarsion of cut glass in the kitchen ! Well, my hair stood on an end, like a shafe of bulrushes, and my knees knocked together for all the world like a pair o' dale clap- pers. *What does that mean, at all, at all?' sez I, to meself. Nobody answered, av coorsc, but, instead o' that, the glasses, man alive, fell to rattlin' agin and agin, and the spoons fell to kicking up the most unmarciful ructions. As I was sayin', I ■cocked my ear like a hare, and hearkened to the fun that was goin' on inside, and all at wanst I heard an ould man coughin' and crowin', and three or four more ould men, too, I be bail, laughin' as if they'd split their siJes with the divarsion. I tuk my fut off the stairs, and the kitchen door bein' a taste open, I clapped my eye to it and looked in. Holy jewel, if you saw 352 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. tMm I A lump of mate, with a double hedge of yellow fat — a lump you couldn't cram into a skiagh, was on the table ; one ould man stood forninst me, dressed in blue knee-breeches, and ■whited darned stockings, and a rale swallow-tail wid goold but- tons, shinin' like a clane candlestick, and a hat for all the world like Tom Lacy's caubogue, only it was turned up at the sides; his white hair was all rolled up in a ball with a skiver stuck be- hind in it ; and he had a bottle of the best Jameson's (two shil- lings, and every farthen iv it, a pint) to his mouth, guttlin* away, ma'am, as iv he'd swallow Poul-a-phouca, the Lord save us! Be- tune him and I there was a laddo upon one knee, decantin' a bot- tk iv somethin' or another, like the big bottle in Dr. Sloane's window; this laddo wore boots up to his knees, and such a cam- bric handkercher ondernathe his ould chin ! The fire was blazin' betuae the hobs, as if they were bint on manufactherin' an anvil, and foruLnst it was sated an ould codger, wid a jug of hot punch in his hand, and snappin' away wid his fingers, like wildfire, to the chune o' the ' Limerick Lasses.' The flure was all a spread of rale chamey, and la.->hins o' fecdm', ham, and pork, and beef, and cabbage, and mate o' that sort. But what opened my eyes, intirely, intirely, was a murtherin' queer thmg betune a frog and a buttherfly, fluttherin' and flying around the room, and divartin' himself, wid his legs up to the ceilin', as if he was a rale fly. Some o' the min were cuttin' capers in the dancin' way, wid the wimen. Arrah, to see thim— such dandies as thmi was, wid wings, nioryagfiy stuck out o' their shoulders, and castles iv cock's feathers growin' out iv the tops o' their heads. But 'twas the coortin' and collogucino* that put me pipe out complately, for there was sated forninst me an ould buckeen wid a hump as big as a churn on his back, and his old arm, if yez plaze, around a young lady in a high-cauled cap and a turkey-red handkercher. • Faith,' sez I to myself, ' I'll have an eye to yez, my darlint, ' and so I kept it on 'em, until the lady turned round her purty head, and, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, I'll take my book-oath on't, the lady ♦Whispering. WHAT MR. MAGUIRE SAW IN THE KITCHEN. 253 — the lady, mind yez, was (here the narrator spread out his legs, twirled his thumbs rapidly, and continued in a hoarse whisper,) the wife 1 Wlien I saw her, sated on the barrel, collogueirigwiA. the ould Cromwellian of a villyan, I tried to make a haul at the pair, and twist his head off iv him, but the dickens resave the step the legs would go, and I had to stand there in the cowld like a pilgarlic, seein' Biddy divartin' herself wid the good people. All. at once the music caysed, and the laddo with the skiver in his head sez, sez he : ** * That Maguire is the scum of a vagabond — he's the sworn inimy of the ould stock,' sez he, • an', if I had my own way, I'd open his eye whilst ye'd be sayin' Jack Robinson.' *• ' Thrue for yez, Harelip, avic,' says the man that was bot- tlin' the medicine, ' ihrue for yez, ' sez he, ' and the pookah take him an' his breed, an' every stick and stone belongin' to thim.' •• The laddo that was dancin' wid the paycock lady here opened his mouth, and sez he, ' Teranages, but his wife's a gim, a rale gim, and its the dickens iv a shame that she should be liv- in' wid that monstherosity. Min,' sez he, to the fellows that might wear a tailor's thimble for a waist-band — ' min,' sez he, ' I moves we whips her off and marry her to Lord Plumtop.' " ' Right,' sez Skiver, 'right. I was pondherin over that me- self, and sorra' betther way I sees,' sez he, 'of punishin' the spalpeen.' "Before that boy's tongue had time to get into his cheek, the humpy back, that was sittin' alongside Biddy, turns about, and immegiately I got a sight of a pinv^ijle as red as a bantam's comb, perched atop of his nose. ' Have I always thrated yez da cently ?' sez he. " 'Iss, my lord,' says the whole o' the pinkeens, bowin' and scrapin' until they'd pick a pin off the flure with their eye-lash- ers — ' Iss, my lord,' sez they. " 'Thm,' sez he, 'by the honor and glory of the Plumtops, I swear on the top and bottom iv the griddle to have the gim for myself — I'm king o' the castle,' sez he, and the pimple grew reddher and reddher, ' and who dare rassle ?' 254 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. •"Be the hokey,' says the Skiver, ' my lord is gettin' as stiff as Bill Haly's dog, that swallowed a stone of starch, and a blue- bag, into the bargin. Yez may lead me, if it plazes yez,' sez Skiver, bouldly, ' but I'd see t!ie whole stock of yez hanged, dhrawn and quarthered, before I'm dhruv.' " The ould man that was engravin' his shins afore the fire, here got up, and sez he, takin' out his handkercher, ' I blush for yez. Skiver, I blush for yez. If yez have any rimnint of dacen- cy in yez, go down on yer binded knees, and beg his lordship's parding.' " Arrah, woman alive, to hear Skiver laughin' at that would do you good for a Shrovetide. He cocked his head, he cocked his eye, ' One man is as good as another,' sez he, ' barrin' he's a lord or a duke — begor, barrin' he's an earl, for all that. And if his lordship,' sez he, standin' on his toes, and lookin' down on Plum- top, 'sez to the conthrary, let him keep on his jacket and I'll dust it for him.' "Plumtop, heerin' iv the discoorse,«tuk a pinch o' Cork snufT, and when the sneezin' was over, he sez, ' Siiiver, are yez bint {ash-tkee, the sneezin' wasn't over), are yez bint on kickin' up a rucshin in my dominions ? Yer pinance is,' sez he, ' to go down on yer (ash-thee, ash-thee) — that snuff is murtherin' strong — yer four ugly bones, and all the min and wimen in the rath walk over yer ugly carcass.' " Up jumps Biddy, as live as a lark, my dear, and sez she, ' If thrubble's about me, put an ind to it, for I'm promised to Lord Plumtop here, an' I wouldn't change my mind for the best gro- cery m Caherconlish,' and sayin' this, she turned up her mouth and kissed the pimple on the lord's nose, begor — may I never see another Sunday, but she did. " 'Stand out,' sez Skiver, squarin' his fists for the divarshin. "If I'm to be thrated like a baste, I'll be a baste,' and wid that he up wid his fist and knocked down the lordheen. There was the hape of a pdlilu on the head of this, the scrawlin* became *FiThtins. WHAT MR. MAGUIRE SAW IN THE KITCHEN. 255 giQ»d, but faith, my bowld Skiver flaked them right and left, min, wimen and childrin, as they was, until the physic man came up wid a decanter and laid him as flat as a pancake. In the meantime I looked around for Biddy, and, shure enough, there she was, ^tin' on the barrel, breakin' her heart cryin', and tyin' up the iordheen's head with a shally shawl I bought her the Sathurday night afore. The physic man kum up to feel his pulse. " * Only wan thing '11 cure him,' sez he, takin' out a watch as big as a pot -lid, and cockin' it to his ear. ' He'll be as stiff as a herrin' afore five minutes if it's not administhered.' ' And what's that ?' sez Biddy, in a heart-broken voice. ' Ai, what is it ?' 'A weddin'-ring,' sez the docthor, < boiled down in a pot of goat's milk. Haven't yez a ring yerself, my lady ?' " ' Begor, thin, I have,' sez she, < an' here it's for him, if 'twas goold tin times over.' "So she whipped off the ring, ma'am, and then Physic sez, * What'U Dlnis think o' this whin it kums to his ears?' sez he. " ' Will youhould your jaw, and don't be botherin' me about the spalpeen. I've somethin' else to consarn me.' "Well, the milk was boiled, and no sooner did the lordheen swallow it, than he got up and marched about the room as grand as a paycock. " ♦ Does yez love me, Biddy ?' sez he. " 'I dotes on you,' sez Biddy; ' shure,' sez she, ' a nater pim- ple was never seen than that on your lordship's nose.' " ' What 'ud Maguire give for such a lump of grandher ?' sez the lordheen. " ' The two eyes out iv his head,' sez Biddy. " ' When will we be mairied, Biddy ?' sez he. " 'Faith, as soon as it'sconvaynant,' sez she. " « Where'U we be married, jewel ?' sez he. <( « Why, thin, where but at the North Pole ?' sez she. "' We must have Dinis' consint, Biddy,' sez the ould scoun. drel. ' Will it be aisy to find him ?' " ' There he's behind the doore,' sez she. ' Hurrah, hurrah,' sez the lordheen, wheeling his stick around his head. ' Min,' sez 256 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. he, ' drag in that quadruped, and ask him if he consints to my martyiag BWdy ?' and, sure enough, before I could lift a leg they had me off my pins and planted in the middle iv the flure. " •Biddy,' sez I, ' Biddy, the Lord forgive ycz !' "'Musha, hould your ugly mouth,' sez she, 'and don't be cacklin' like a gandher.' •"Does yer consint?' sez the lordheen, with a scrame like a wild crane; 'does yer consint to separate from yer wife and give her to them that can support her dacently ?' " 'No,' sez I. " 'Pull off his hair, one by one, min,' sez the lordheen, ' we'll taich him manners afore he's much ouldher.' " So the pinkeens kem around me and they pulled away until I put my hand on the top of my head, roarin' all the time wid pain, and saw I had only throe hairs remainin'. Begor I was frightened to think of wearin' a wig, and as all the hair was goin' I thought best to keep the seed of a new crop, so sez I, ' I con- sint,' and hardly were the words out o' my mouth when I sitsup and sees Biddy afore me. 'Get out iv the house this minute,' sez I, and wid that I planted her in the middle iv the pavement, for I couldn't consaive I had been dhramin'. Arrah isn't that her cry in' away in the room there ?" said Denis, suspending the story and listening. "'Tis herself, then, poor woman," said Mrs. O'Shaughnessy ; "here, go in an' make friends with her." Denis went, and returned in a few minutes, holding his wife by the hand. " 'Twas all a dhrame, ma'am, an' she forgives me, an' I'm going to take the pledge to-morrow." " An' when you do," said his wife, laughing, " I'll run off with the lordheen." " Are yez at it again ?" said Denis, catching and kissing her, *• the dickens take him for a lordheen, anyhow ! ' ' THE WILL. ijjr THE WILL. It was a little after midnight that a knock came to the door of oar cabin. I heard it first, for I used to sleep in a little snug basket near the fire; but I didn't speak, for I was frightened. It was still repeated louder, and then came a cry — " Con. Cregan; Coii. I say, open the door ! I want you." I knew the voice well; it was Peter McCabe's; but I pretended to be fast asleep, and snored loudly. At last my father unbolted the door, and I heard hinj say, " Oh, Mr. Peter, what's the matter? is the ould man worse ?" •' Faix that's what he is, for he's dead !" " Glory be his bed ! when did it happen ?" " About an hour ago," said Peter, in a voice that even I, from my comer, could perceive greatly agitated. " He died like an ould hathen, Con., and never made a will !" "That's bad," says my father, for he was always a polite man, and said whatever was pleasing to the company. " It is bad," said Peter; " butit would be worse if he couldn't help it. Listen to me now, Comey; I want ye to help me in this business; and here are five guineas in gold if ye do what I bid ye. You know that ye were always reckoned the image of my father, and before he took ill ye were mistaken for each other every day of the week. ' ' •' Anan !" said my father, for he was getting frightened at the notion, without well knowing why. " Weil, what I want is for ye to come over mto the house and get into the bed." " jN'ot beside the corpse ?" said my father, trembling. t^B THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS, ♦'By no nv ans, but by yourself; and you're to pretend to be my father, and that ye want to make yer will before ye die; and then I'll send for the neighbors, and Billy Scanlan, the school- master, and ye'll tell him what to write, leaving all the farm and everything to me — ye understand. And as the neighbors will see ye and hear yer voice, it will never be believed but it was himself that did it." •' The room must be very dark," says my father. «' To be sure it will; but have no fear ! Nobody will dare to come nigh the bed; and ye'll only have to make a cross with yer pen under the name. Come along, now — quick — for we've no time to lose; it must be all finished before the day breaks." My father did not lose much time at his toilet, for he just wrapped his big coat round him, and, slipping on the brogues, left the house. I sat up in the basket, and listened till they were gone some minutes; and then, in a costume as light as my parent's, set out after them to watch the course of the adventure. I thought to take a short cut, and be before them; but by bad luck I fell into a bog-hole, and only escaped drowning by a chance. As it was, when I reached the house the performance had already begun. I think I see the whole scene this instant before my eyes, as I sat on a little window with one pane, and that a broken one, and surveyed the proceeding. It was a large room, at one end of which was a bed, and beside it was a table with physic bottles and spoons and tea-cups; a little further off was another table, at wHch sat Billy Scanlan, with all manner of writing materials be- fore him. The country people sat two and sometimes three deep around the walls, all intently eager and anxious for the coming event; Peter himself went from place to place, trying to smother his grief, and occasionally helping the company to something, which was supplied with more than accustomed liberality. All my consciousness of the deceit and trickery coulu not de- prive the scene of a certain solemnity. Tlie misty distance of the half-lighted room; the highly-wrou^lit expression of the country THE WILL. 3591! people's faces, never more intensely excited than at some moment of this kind; the low, deep-drawn breathing, unbroken save by a sigh or a sob — the tribute of affectionate sorrow to some lost friend, whose memory was thus forcibly brought back; these were all so real, that, as I looked, a thrilling sense of awe stole over me, and I actually shook with fear. A low, faint cough from the dark comer where the bed stood seemed to cause even a deeper stillness; and then, in a silence where the buzzing of a fly would have been heard, my father said: "Where's Billy Scanlan ? I want to make my will !" "He's here, father," said Peter, taking Billy by the hand and leading him to the bed-side. " Write what I bid ye, Billy, and be quick; for I haven't a. long time afore me here; I die a good Catholic, though Father O'Rafferty won't give me the rites !" A general chorus of muttered "Oh! musha, musha!" was now heard through the room; but whether in grief over the sad fate of the dying man, or the unflinching justice of the priest, is hard to say. " I die in peace with all my neighbors and all mankind." Another chorus of the company seemed to approve these char- itable expressions. " I bequeath unto my son Peter — and never was there a better son or a decenter boy ! — have you that down ? I bequeath unto my son Peter the whole of my two farms of Killimundoonery and Knocksheboora, with the fallow meadows behind Lynch's house, the forge and right of turf on the Dooran bog. I give him — and much good may it do him — Lanty Cassam's acre, and the Luary field with the lime-kiln; and that reminds me that my mouth is just as dry. Let me taste what ye have in the jug." Here the dying man took a very hearty pull, and seemed considerably re- freshed by it. "Wliere was I, Billy Scanlan?" says he; "oh, I remember, at the lime-kiln. I leave him — that's Peter, I mean — the two potato gardens at Noonan's Well; and it is the elegant, fine crops grows there." .j6o the zozimus papers. "Ain't you gettin' wake, father darlin'?" says Peter, who be- gan to be afraid of my father's loquaciousness; for, to say the truth, the punch got into his head, and he was greatly disposed toUlk. "I am, Peter, my son," says he; "I am getting wake; just touch my lips again with the jug. Ah ! Peter, Peter, you watered the drink." "No, indeed, father, but it's the taste is leavin' you," says Peter, and again a low chorus of compassionate pity murmured through the cabin. "Well, I'm nearly done now," says my father; "there's only one little plot of ground remaining, and I put it on you, Peter — as ye wish to live a good man, and die with the same easy heart as I do now — that ye mind my last words to ye here. Are ye listening ? Are the neighbors listening ? Is Billy Scanlan listen- ing?" "Yes, sir; yes, father, we're all minding," chorused the audience. "Well, then, it's my last will and testament, and may — give me over the jug" — here he took a long drink — "and may that blessed liquor be poison to me if I'm not as eager about this as every other part of the will; I say, then, I bequeath the little plot at the cross roads to poor Con. Cregan, for he has a heavy charge, and is as honest and as hard-working a man as ever I knew. Be a friend to him, Peter, dear; never let him want while ye have it yourself — think of me on my death-bed whenever he asks ye for any trifle. Is it down, Billy Scanlan?— the two acres at the •cross to Con. Cregan, and his heirs in secla seclorum? Ah, blessed be the saints ! but I feel my heart lighter after that," says he — "a good work makes an easy conscience. And now I'll drink all the company's good health, and many happy re- turns — " What he was going to add there's no saying; but Peter, who was now terribly frightened at the lively tone the sick man was assuming, hurried all the people into another room, to let his father die in peace. THE WILL. 261 When they were all gone, Peter slipped back to my father, who was putting on his brogues in a comer : " Con.," says he, "ye did it all well; but sure that was a joke about the two acres at the cross." •' Of course it was, Peter !" says he; "sure it was all a joke, for the matter of that; won't I make the neighbors laugh hearty to-morrow when I tell them all about it !" "You wouldn't be mean enough to betray me !" says Peter, trembling with fright. " Sure you wouldn't be mean enough to go against your father's dying words !" says my father; "the last sentence ever he spoke;" and here he gave a low, wicked laugh, that made myself shake with fear. "Very well, Con.!" says Peter, holding out his hand; "a bargain's a bargain ; yer a deep fellow, that's all." And so it ended, and my father slipped quietly over the bog, mighty well satisfied with the legacy he left himself. And thus we became the owners of the little spot known to thiB day as Corn's Acre. 262 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. SERVING A WRIT. My father, who, for reasons registered in the King's Bench, spent a great many years of his life in that part of Ireland geo- graphically known as lying west of the law, was obliged, for cer- tain reasons of family, to come up to Dublin. This he pro- ceeded to do with due caution: two trusty servants formed an advance guard, and patrolled the country for at least five miles in advance ; after them came a skirmishing body of a few tenants, who, for the consideration of never paying rent, would have charged the whole Court of Chancery, if needful. My father himself, in an old chaise victualled like a fortress, brought up the rear; and, as I said before, he was a bold man who would have attempted to have laid siege to him. As the column advanced ijito the en£my's country, they assumed a closer order, the patrol and the pic}art falling back upon the main body; and in this way they reached that most interesting city called Kilbeggan. What a fortonaie thing it is for us in Ireland that we can see so much of the w'orld without foreign travel, and that any gentleman, for six arrd eightpence, can leave Dublin in the morning and visit Timbucto-J against dinner-time ! Don't stare ! it's truth I'm telling; for dirt, misery, smoke, unaffected behavior and black faces, I'll back Kilbeggan' against all Africa. Free-and-easy, pleasant people they are, with a skin as l:)egrimed and as rugged as their own potatoes ! But to resume: the sun was just rising in a delicioira -jioiTiing of June, when my father— whose loyal antip- athies I have mentioned made him also an earlier riser — was preparing for the road. A stout escort of his followers were, as usual, under arms to see him safe in the chaise, the passage to SERVING A WRIT. 263 and from which every day being the critical moment of my father's life. " It's all right, your honor," said his own man, as, armed with a blunderbuss, he opened the bed-room door. "Time enough, Tim," said my father; "close the door, for I haven't finished my breakfast." Now the real truth was, that my father's attention was at that moment withdrawn from his own concerns by a scene which was taking place in a field beneath his window. But a few minutes before a hack-chaise had stopped upon the road-side, out of which sprang three gentlemen, who, proceeding to the field, seemed bent upon som-thing which, whether a sur- vey or a duel, my father could not make out. He was not long, however, to remain in ignorance. One with an easy, lounging gait strode towards a distant comer; another took an opposite direction; while the third, a short, pursy gentleman, in a red handkerchief and a rabbit-skin waistcoat, proceeded to open a mahogany box, which, to the critical eyes of my respected father, was agreeably suggestive of bloodshed and murder. "A duel, by Jupiter !" said my fatlier, rubbing his hands. "What a heavenly morning the scoundrels have — not a leaf stir- ring, and a sod lilce a billiard-table." Meanwhile the little man who officiated as second, it would appear, to both parties, bustled about with activity little congenial to his shape; and, what between snapping the pistols, examining the flints and ramming down the charges, had got himself into a sufficient prespiration before he commenced to measure off the ground. " Short distance and no quarter !" shouted one of the combat- ants from the corner of the field. "Across a handkerchief if you like !" roared the other. "Gentlemen, every inch of them!" responded my father. "Twelve paces!" cried the little man. "No more and no less. Don't forget that I'm alone in this business." "Avery true remark!" observed my father; "and an awk- ward predicament yours will be, if they are both shot!" 264 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. By this time the combatants had taken their places, and the little man, having delivered the pistols, was leisurely retiring to give the word. My father, however, whose critical eye was never at fault, detected a circumsLance which promised an immense ad- vantage to one at the expense of the other; in fact, one of the parties was so placed with his back to the sun, that his shadow extended in a straight line to the very foot of his antagonist. "Unfair! unfair!" cried my father, opening the window as he spoke, and addressing himself to him of the rabbit-skin. *' I crave your pardon for the interruption," said he; "but I feel bound to observe that that gentleman's shadow is likely to be made a shade of him." "And so it is," observed the short man: "a thousand thanks for your kindness; but the truth is, I am totally unaccustomed to this kind of thing, and the affair will not admit of delay." "Not an hour !" said one. "Not five minutes !" growled the other of the combatants. " Put them up north and south !" said my father. "Is it thus?" "Exactly so; but mw again the gentleman in the brown coat is covered with the ash tree." "And so he is!" said rabbit-skin, wiping his forehead with agitation. " Move them a little to the left," said he. "That brings me upon an eminence," said the gentleman in blue; "I'll not be made a cock shot of." "What an awkward little tiling it is in the hairy waistcoat!" said my father; "he's lucky if he don't get shot himself." "May I never ! if I'm not sick of you both!" ejaculated rab- bit-skin, in a passion. " I've moved you round every point of the compass, and the sorrow a nearer we are than ever." "Give us the word," said one. "The word!" " Downright murder," said my father. "I don't care," said the little man; "we shall be here till doomsday." SERVING A WRIT. 265 "I can't permit this," said my father. "Allow me — " so saying, he stepped' upon the window-sill and leaped down into the lield. •' Before I can accept of your politeness, " said he of the rabbit- skin, " may I beg to know your name and position in society?" "Nothing more reasonable," said my father. "I'm Miles O'Shaughnessy, Colonel of the Royal Raspers; here is my card." The piece of pasteboard was complacently handed from one to the other of the party, who saluted my father with a smile of most courteous benignity. "Colonel O'Shaughnessy," said one. "Miles O'Shaughnessy," said another. " Of Killinahoula Castle," said the third. " At your service," said my father, bowing as he presented his smtffJxix: "and now to business, if you please; for my time also is limited." "Very true," observed he of the rabbit-skin, "and, as youob- »erve, now to business; in virtue of which. Colonel Miles O'Shaughnessy, I hereby arrest you in the king's name. Here is the writ: it's at the suit of Bamaby Kelly, of Loughrea, for the snm of ;/^i,583 19s. yyid., which — " Before he could conclude the sentence, my father discharged one obligation by implanting his closed knuckles in his face. The blow, well-aimed and well-intentioned, sent the little fellow somersetting like a sugar hogshead. But, alas ! it was of no use; the others, strong and able-bodied, fell both upon him, and after a desperate struggle succeeded in getting him down. To tie his hands and convey him to the chaise was the work of a few mo- ments, and as my father drove by the inn, the last object which caught his view was a bloody encounter between his own people and the myrmidons of the law, who in great numbers had laid siege to the house during hiscapture. Thus was my father taken, and thus, in reward for yielding to a virtuous weakness in his diaracter, was he consigned to the ignominious durance of a prison. 266 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS, THE GAUGER OUTWITTED. Young Condy Cullen was descended from a long line of pri- ▼ate distillers, and, of course, exhibited in his own person all the practical wit, sagacity, cunning and fertility of invention, which the natural genius of the family, sharpened by long experience, had created from generation to generation, as a standing capital to be handed down from father to son. There was scarcely a trick, evasion, plot, scheme or manoeuvre that had ever been re- sorted to by his ancestors, that Condy had not at his fingers' ends, and though but a lad of sixteen at the time we present him to the reader, yet be it observed, that he had his mind, even at that age, admirably trained by four or five years of keen, vigorous practice, in all the resources needed to meet the subtle vigilance and stealthy circumvention of that prowling animal — the gauger. In feet, Condy's talents did not merely consist in an acquaintance with the hereditary tricks of his family. These of themselves would prove but a miserable defense against the ever-varying in- geiraily with which the progressive skill of the still-hunter masks his approaches and conducts his designs. On the contrary, every n^w plan of the gauger must be met and defeated by a coun.lei-plan equally novel, but with this difference in the char- acter of both, that whereas the excise-man's devices are the re- sult of mature deliberation — Paddy's, from the very nature of the dtciimstaiices, must l>e necessarily extemporaneous and rapid. Th£ bc«lility between the parties being, as it is, carried on throagh such varied stratagem on both sides, and characterized by finch adroit and able duplicity, by so many quick and unex- pected turns of incident— it would be utter fatuity in either, to THE GAUGER OUTWITTED. 267 rely upon obsolete tricks and slale manoeuvres. Their relative position and occupation do not, thcrefjrc, merely exhibit a con- test between I.aw and that mountain nymph, Liberty, or between the Excise Boaid and the Smuggler — it presents a more interest- ing- point for observation — namely, the struggle between wit and wit — between roguery and knavery. It might be very amusing to detail, from time to time, a few of those keen encounters of practical cunning which take place be- tween the potheen distiller and his lynx-eyed foe, the ganger. They are curious as throwing light upon the national character of our people, and as evidences of the surprising readiness of wit, fertility of invention and irresistible humor which they mix up with almost every actual concern of life, no matter how difficult or critical it may be. Nay, it mostly happens that the character of the peasant, in all its fullness, rises in proportion to what he is called upon to encounter, and that the laugh at, or the hoax upon the ganger, keeps pace with the difficulty that is overcome. But nov/ to our short story. Two men in the garb of gentlemen were riding along a remote by-road, one morning in the month of October, about the year 1827, or '28, I am not certain which. The air was remarkably clear, keen and bracing; a hoar frost for the few preceding nights had set in, and then lay upon the fields about them, melting gradually, however, as the sun got strength, with the exception of the sides of such hills and valleys as his beams could not reach, until evcaiug chilled their influenced too much to absorb the feathery whiteness which covered them. Our equestrians had nearly reached a turn in the way, which, we should observe in this place, skirted the brow of a small declivity that lay on the right. In point of fact, it was a moderately inclined plane or slope rather than a declivity; but be this .is it may, the flat at itc foot was studded over with furze bushes, which grew si close and levisl, that a person might almost imagine it possible to walk upcm their surface. On coming within about two hundred and fifty yards of this angle, the riders noticed a lad, not more than sixteen, jogging ou 268 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. tcnvaids them, with a keg upon his back. The eye of one ot them was i:nmediately lit with that vivacious sparkling of habit, ual Kagacity wluch marks the practiced gauger among ten thou- sand. For a single moment he drew up his horse — an action which, however slight in itself, intimated more plainly than he couU have wished the obvious interest which had just been ex- cited in him. Short as was the pause, it betrayed him, for no sooner had the lad noticed it, than he crossed the ditch and dis- appeared round the angle we have mentioned, and upon tha side of the declivity. To gallop to the spot, dismount, cross the ditch also, and pursue him, was only the work of a few minutes. "We have him," said the ganger, "we have him. One thing is clear, he cannot escape us." * "Speak for yourself, Stinton," replied his companion "Aj for me, not being an officer of his Majesty's Excise, I decline taking any part in the pursuit. It is a fair battle; so fight it out between you; I am with you now only through curiosity." He had scarcely concluded, when they heard a voice singing the following lilies, in a spirit of that hearty hilarity which betokens a cheerful contempt of care, and an utter absence of all appre- hension : " Oh ! Jemmy, she sez, you are my true lover. You are all the riches that I do adore; 1 solemnly sware now I'll ne'er have another. My heart it is fixed to never love more." The music then chinged into a joyous whistle, and imme- diately they were confronted by a lad, dressed in an old redcoat, patched with gray frieze, who, on seeing tlu>m, exhibited in his feature!) a most ingenious air of natural surprise He immediately ceased to whistle, and with every mark of respect, putting his hand to his hat, said in a voice, the tones of which spoke of kind- ness and deference: " God save ye, gintlemen." "1 say, my lad," said the ganger, " where is that customer vatlt the keg on his back ? — he crossed over there this moment." "Where, when, sir?" said the lad, with a staic of surprise. THE GAUGER OUTWITTED. 269 '* Where? when? why, this minute, and in this place." "And ^va3 it a whiskey keg, sir?" " Sir, I am liot here to be examined by you," replied Stinton; *' confound me if the conniving young rascal is not striking me into a cross-examination already — I say, redcoat, where is the boy with the keg, sir ?" " As for a boy, I did see a boy, sir; but the never a keg he had — hadn't he a gray frieze coat, sir?" "He had." "And wasn't it a dauny bit short about the skirts, please your honor ? ' ' "Again he's at me. Sirra, unless you tell me where he is in a half second, I shall lay my whip to your shoulders." " The sorra a keg I seen then, sir — the last keg I seen was — " " Did you see a boy without the keg, answering to the descrip- tion I gave you ?" " You gave me no description of it, sir — but even if you did — when I didn't see it, how could I tell your honor anything about it?" " Where is the fellow, you villain ?" exclaimed the gauger in a fiiry, "where is he gone to ? You admit you saw him ; as for the keg, it cannot be far from us^jut where is he ?" " By dad, I saw a boy wid a short frieze coat upon him, cross- ing the road there below and runnin' down the other side of that ditch." This was too palpable a lie to stand the test even of a glance at the ditch in question, which was nothing more than a slight mound that ran down a long lea field, on which there was not the appearance of a shrub. The gauger looked at his companion, then turning to the boy, •'Come, come my lad," said he, " you know that lie is rather cool. Don't you feel in your soul that a rat could not have gone in that direction without our seeing it ?" " Bedadan' I saw him," returned the lad, "wid a giay coat upon him, that was a little too short in the tail — it's better than hall an hour atjone." VfO THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. ** The boy I speak of, you must have met,'' said Stinton; " it'f not five minutes — no, not more than three, since he came inside the field." " That my feet may grow to the ground, then, if I seen a boy in or about this place, widin the time, barrin' myself." The gauger eyed him closely for a short space, and pulling out half a crown, said— " Harkee, my lad, a word with you in private." The fact is, that during the latter part of this dialogue the worthy exciseman observed the cautious distance at which the boy kept himself fro.n the grasp of him and his companion. A suspicion consequently began to dawn upon him that. in defiance of appearances, the lad himself might be the actual smuggler. On reconsidering the matter, this suspicion almost amounted to certainty ; the time was too short to permit even the most in- genious cheat to render himself and his keg invisible in a manner so utterly unaccountable. On the other hand, when he reflected on the opjn, artless character of the boy's song; the capricious change to a li^ht-hearted whistle; the surprise so naturally and the respect so deferentially expressed, joined to the dissimilarity of dress, he was confounded again, and scarcely knew on which side to determine. Even the lad's reluctance to approach him might proceed from fear of ihe whip. He felt resolved, however, to ascertain this point, and with the view of getting the lad into his hands, he showed him half a crown and addressed him as already stated. The lad, on seeing the money, appeared to be instantly caught by it, and approached him as if it had been a bait he could not resist — a circumstance which again staggered the gauger. In a moment, however, he had seized him. "Come, now," said he, unbuttoning his coat, "you will oblige me by stripping." "And why so?" said the lad, with a face that might have furnished a painter or sculptor with a perfect notion of curiosity, perplcjdty and wonder. "Why so ?" replied Stinson; "we shall see — we shall soon see." THE GAUGER OUTWITTED. 27 1 •* Surely you don't think I've hid the keg about me," said the other, his features now relaxing into such an appearance of utter simplicity 33 would have certainly made any other man but a gauger give up the examination as hopeless and exonerate the boy from any participation whatsoever in the transaction. "No, no," replied the gauger, "by no means, you young tascal. "See here, Cartwright," he continued, addressing his eompanion — "the keg, my precious;" again turning to the lad — "Oh! no, no; it would be cruel to suspect you of anything but the purest of simplicity." "Look here, Cartwright," having stripped the boy of his^oat and turned it inside out, " there's a coat — there's thrift — there's economy for you. Come, sir, tuck on, tuck on instantly; here, I shall assist you — up with your arms — straighten your neck; it will be both straightened and stretched yet, my cherub. What think you now, Cartwright ? Did you ever see a metamorphosis in your life so quick, complete and unexpected ?" His companion was certainly astonished in no small degree, on seeing the red coat, when turned, become a comfortable gray freize; one precisely such as he who bore the keg had on. Nay, after surveying his person and dress a second time, he instantly recognized him as the same. The only interest, we should observe, which this gentleman had in the transaction, arose from the mere gratification which a keen observer of character, gifted with a strong relish for humor, might be supposed to feel. The gauger, in sifting the matter, and scenting the trail of the keg, was now in his glory, and cer- t.iiuly, when met by so able an opponent as our friend Condy, for it was indeed himself, furnished a very rich treat to his friend. "Now," he continued, addressing the boy again — "lose not a moment in letting us know where you've hid the keg." " The sorra bit of it I hid — it fell off o' me an' I lost it; sure I'm lookin' after it myself, so I am," and he moved off while speaking, as if pretending to search for it in a thin hedge, which could by no means conceal it. " Cartwright," said the gauger, "did you ever see anything so 272 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. perfect as this, so ripe a rascal — yoa don't understand him now. Heroj you simpleton; harkee, sirra, there must be no playing the lapwing willi me; back here to the same point. We may lay it down as a sure thing that whatever direction he takes from this spot h the wrong one; so back here, you sir, till we survey the premises about us for your traces." The boy walked sheepishly back, and appeared to look about him for the keg with a kind of earnest stupidity, which was al- together inimitable. "I say, my boy," asked Stinton, ironically, "don't you look rathfer foolish now ? Can you tell your right hand from your left?" '♦I can," replied Condy, holding up his left, «' there's my right hand." "And what do you call the other?" said Cartwright. "My left, bedad, anyhow, an' that's true enough." Both gentlemen laughed heartily. •' But it's carrying the thing a little too far," said the ganger; " in the mean time let us hear how you prove it." " Aisy enough, sir," replied Condy, "l^ekase I am left-hand- ed — tliis," holding up the left, " is the right hand to me, what- ever you may say to the contrary." Condy's countenance expanded, after he had spoken, into a grin so broad and full of grotesque sarcasm, that Stinton and his companion both found their faces, in spite of tliem, get rather blank under its influence. *' What the deuce !" exclaimed the ganger, " are ^Ve to be here all day ? Come, sir, bring us at once to the keg." He was here interrupted by a laugh from Cartwright,. so vocif- erous, loud and hearty, that he looked at him with amazement. "Hey, day," he exclaimed, "what's the matter, what new joke is this?" For some minutes, however, he could not get a word from the other, whose laughter appeared as if never to end ; he walked to and fro in absolute convulsions, bending his body and clap- ping his hands together, with a vehemence quite unintelligible. THE GAUGER OUTWITTED. 273 "What isit, man ?" cried the other, "confound you, what is it?" "Oh !" replied Cartwright, " I am sick, perfectly feeble." " You have it to yourself, at all events," observed Stinton. " And shall keep it to myself," said Cartwright; " your sa- gacity is overreached ; you must be contented to sit down under defeat. I won't interfere." Now, in this contest between the ganger and Condy, even so slight a thing as one glance of the eye by the latter might have given a proper cue to an opponent so sharp as Stinton. Condy during the whole dialogue, consequently, preserved the most vague and undefinable visage imaginable except in the matter of his distinction between " right " and "left," and Stinton, who watched his eyes with the shrewdest vigilance, could make noth- ing of it. Not so was it between him and Cartwright ; for during the closing paroxysms of his mirth, Stinton caught his eye fixed upon a certain mark barely visible upon the hoar frost, which mark extended dovvn to the furze bushes that grew at the foot of the slope where they then stood. As a staunch old hound lays his nose to the trail of a hare or fox, so did the ganger pursue the trace of the keg, down the lit- tle hill; for the fact was, that Condy, having no other resource, tumbled it off toward the furze, into which it settled perfectly to his satisfaction; and with all the quickness of youth and practice, instantly turned his coat, which had been made purposely for such encounters. This accomplished, he had barely time to ad- vajice a few yards round the angle of the hedge, and changing hb whole manner as well as his appearance, acquitted himself as the reader has already seen. That he could have carried the keg down to the cover, then conceal it, and return to the spot where they met him, was utterly beyond the reach of human exertion, s* that in point of fact they never could have suspected that the wliiskey lay in such a place. The triumph of the ganger was now complete, and a complac- ent sense of his own sagacity sat visible on his features. Condy's face, on the other hand, became considerably lengthened, and up- »74 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. peared quite as rueful and mortified as the other's was joyous and confidcRt. "Who's the sharpest now, my knowing one ?" said he, " who is the laugh against, as matters stand between us?" "The sorra give you good of it," said Condy sulkily. *' What is your name ?" inquired Stinton. "Barney Keerigan's my name," replied the other indignantly; " an' I'm not ashamed of it, nor afraid to tell it to you or any other man." " What, of the Keerigans of Killogan ?" " Ay jist, of thj Keerigans of Killogan." " 1 know the family," said Stinton. " They are decent in their ■way — but come, my lad, don't lose your temper, and answer me another question. Where were you bringing this whiskey ?" " To a betlher man than ever stood in your shoes," replied Con- dy in a tone of absolute defiance — "to a gintleman anyway," wiih a peculiar emphasis on the word gintleman. " But what's his name ?" "Mr. Stinton's his name — ganger Stinton." Tlie slirewd exciseman stood and fixed his keen eye on Condy for up^v^ards of a minute, with a glance of such piercing scrutiny as scarcely any consciousness of imposture could withstand. Condy, on tlie other hand, stood and eyed him with an open, unshrinking, yet angry glance; never winced, but appeared by the detection of his keg to have forgotten the line of cunning policy he had previously adopted, in a mortification which had predominated over duplicity and art. He is now speaking truth, thought the ganger. lie has lost his temper, and is completely off his guard. "Well, my lad," he continued, " this is very good so far, but who was it sent the keg to Stinton ?" " Do you think," said Condy, with a look of strong contempt at the ganger, for deemmg him so utterly silly as to tell him, ** Do you think you can make me turn informer ? There's none of that blood in me, thank goodness." " Do you know Stinton ?" THE GAUGER OUTWITTED. 2J$ "How could I know the man I never seen?" replied Condy, still oat of temper; " but one thing I don't know, gintlemen, and that is, whether you have any right to t^.kc my whiskey or not." " As to that, my good lad, make your mind easy — I'm Stin- l!on." •'You, sir," said Condy, with well -feigned surprise. '• Yes," replied the other, " I'm the very man you were bring- ing the keg to. And now I'll tell you what you must do for me. Proceed to my house with as little delay as possible; ask to see iqy daughter — ask for Miss Stinton— take this key, and desire her to have the keg put into the cellar. She'll know the key, and let it also be a token that she is to give you your breakfast. Say I desired that keg to be placed to the right of the five gallon one that I seized on Thursday last, that stands on a little stillion un- der my blunderbuss. ' ' " Of coorse," said Condy, who appeared to have misgivings on the matter, " I suppose I must, but somehow " "Why, sirrah, what do you grumble now for?" Condy still eyed him with suspicion. "And, sir," said he, after having once more mounted the keg, " am I to get nothing for such a weary trudge as I had wid it, but my breakfast?" " Here," said Stinton, throwing him half a crown, " take that along with it, and now ha off — or stop — Cartwright, will you dine with me to-day, and let U5 broach the keg ? I'll gaurantee its excellence, for this is not the first I have got from the same quarter — that's enire nous." "With all my heart," replied Cartwright, "upon the terms you say, that of the broach." "Then, my lad," said Stinton, " say to my daughter that a friend — perhaps a friend or two — will dine with me to-day; that is enough.'' They then mounted their horses, and were proceeding as before, when Cartwright addressed the gauger as follows : " Do you not put this lad, Slinton, i:i a capacity to overreach you yet ?" "No," replied the other, "the young rascal spoke the truth 276 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. after the discoverj- of the keg, for he lost his temper, and was no longer cool." " For my part, hang me if I'd trust him." "I should scruple to do so, myself," replied the ganger, "but, as I said, these Keerigans — notorious illicit fellows, by the way — send me a keg or two every year, and almost always about this rery time. Besides, I read him to the heart and he never winced. Yes, decidedly, the whiskey was for me; of that I have no doubt whatsoever." " I most positively would not trust him." '• Not that perhaps I ought," said Stinton, " on second thought, to place such confidence in a lad who acted so adroitly in the be- ginning. Let us call him back, and re-examine him at all events. ' ' Now Condy had, during this conversation, been discussing the very same point with himself. "Bad cess forever attend you, Stinton agra," he exclaimed, " for there's something surely over you — a lucky shot from be- hind a hedge, or a break -neck fall down a clilT, or something of that kind. If the ould boy hadn't his croubs hard and fast in you, you wouldn't let me walk away with the whiskey anyhow. Be- dad, it's well I thought o' the Keerigans, for sure enough I did hear Barney say that he was to send a keg in to him this week some day; and he didn't think I knew him aither. Faix, it's many a long day since I knew the sharp puss of him, with an eye like a hawk. But what if they folly me, and do up all ? Anywny, I'll prevint them from having suspicion of me before I go a toe farther, the ugly rips." He instantly wheeled about, a moment or two before Stinton and Cartwright had done the same, for the purpose of sifting him etiU more thoroughly, so that they found him meeting them. " Gintlemen," said he, " how do I kniw that aither of you is Mr. Stinton, or that the house you directed me to is his ? I know that if the wliiskey doesn't go to him I may lave the counthry." *' You are either a deeper rogue or a more stupid fool than I THE GAUGER OUTWITTED. 277 took you to be," observed Stinton; " but what security can you give us that you will leave the keg safely at its destination?" " If 1 thought you were Mr. Stinton, I'd be very glad to lave the whisV.ey where it is, and even do without my breakfast. Gintleraen, tell me the truth, bekase I'd only be murdhered out of the face." *♦^Vhy, you idiot," said thegauger, losing his temper and sus- picions both together, "can't you go to the town and inquire where Mr. Stinton lives ?" "Bcdad, thm, thrae enough, I never thought of that at all at all; but I beg your pardon, gintlemen, an' I hope you VFon't be angry Wid me, in regard that it's kilt and quartered I'd be if I let myself be made a fool of by anybody." " Do what I desire you," said the exciseman; " inquire for Mr. Stinton's house, and you may be sure that the whiskey will reach him." " Thank you, sir. Bedad, I might have thought of that my- self." This last clause, which was spoken in a soliloquy, would have deceived a saint himself. "Now," said Stinton, after they had re-commenced their journey, " are you satisfied?" "I am at length," said Cartwright; "if his intentions had been dislionest instead of returning to make himself certain against being deceived, he would have made the best of his way from us; a rogue never wantonly puts himself in the way of dan- ger or detection." That evening, about five o'clock, Stinton, Cartwright, and two others arrived at the house of the worthy gauger, to partake of his good cheer. A cold frosty evening gave a peculiar zest to the com- fort of a warm room, a blazing fire and a good dinner. No soon- er were the viands discus&ed, the cloth removed, and the glasses ready, than their generous host desire 1 his daughter to assist the servant in broaching the redoubtable keg. " That keg, my dear," he proceeded, " which the country lad» who brought the key of the cellar, left here to-day." 27^ THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS, " A keg ?" repeated the daughter with surprise. "Yes, Maggy, my love — a keg. I said so, I think." '• But, papa, there came no keg here to-day." The gauger and Cartwright both groaned in unison. "No keg ?" said the gauger. " No keg?" echoed Cartwright. *« No keg, indeed," re-echoed Miss Stinton; "but there came a country boy with the key of the cellar, as a token that he was to get the five gallon " "Oh," groaned the gauger, "I'm knocked up — outwitted; oh!" "Bought and sold," added Cartwright. " Go on," said the gauger; " I must hear it out." " As a token," proceeded Miss Stinton, "that he was to get the five gallon keg on the little stillion, under the blunderbuss, for Captain Dalton." "And he got it?" " Yes, sir, he got it: for I took the key as a sufficient token." " But, Maggy — hear me child — surely he brought a keg here, and left it; and of course it's in the cellar ?" " No, indeed, he brought no keg here; but he did bring the five gallon one that was in the cellar away with him." "Stinton," said Cartwright, "send round the bottle.',' '•The rascal," ejaculated the gauger; " we shall drink his healti." Ami on relating the circumstances, the company drank the sheepish lad's health, that bought and sold the gauger. THE IRISH MIDWIFE. ^ ij^ THE IRISH MIDWIFE. The village of Ballycomaisy was as pleasant a little place as CMis might wish to see of a summer's day. It consisted princi- pally ( f one Ijnj street, which you entered from the north-west side by one of those old-fashioned bridges, the arches of which w\irc ma- Ii more akin to the Gothic than the Roman. Most of tvi: h'juscd \vcr2 of mud, a few of stone, one or two of which had tit; h;incr of being slated on the front side of the roof, and rus- tll'illy ;h itched on the back, where ostentation was not neces- sar/. Therj were two or three shops, a liberal sprinkling of public -houses, a chapel a little out of the town, and an old di- lapidated market-house near the centre. A few little by -streets prcjeclcd in a lateral direction from the main one, which was ter- minated on the side opposite to the north-west by a pound, through which, as usual, ran a shallow stream, that was gathered lii'.o a little gutter as it crossed the road, A crazy antiquated ii.r.1, all covered and cobwcbbed with gr?.y mealy dust, stood about a couple of hundred yards out of the town, to which two siraggling rows of hou;cs, that looked like a.i abortive street, h,J you. This mill was surrounded by a green common, wliich was a^aiu hemmed in by a fine river, that ran round in a curving line fro.a under the hunchbacked arc!i of tlie bridge wc men- tioned ct the beginning. Nov/, a little behind, or rather above this mill, on the skirt of the aforesaid common, stood a rather lieat-Juoking whitish cabin, with abjut half a rjod of garden benmd it. It was but small, and consisted merely of a sleeping- room and kitchen. On one side of the dojr was a window, opening on hinges; and on the outside, to the right as you en- 28o THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. tered the house, there was placed a large stone about four feet liigK, backed by a sloping mound of earth, so graduated as to allow a person to ascend the slone without any difficulty. In this cabin lived Rose Moan, the Midwife; and we need scarcely inform our readers that the stone in question was her mounting- stone, by which she was enabled to place herself on pillion or crupper, as the case happened, when called out upon her usual avocation. Rose was what might be called 3.Jlahoo/a^/i, or portly woman, with a good-humored set of Milesian features; that is to say, a pair of red, broad cheeks, a well-set nose, allowing for the dis- position to turn up, and two black twinkling eyes, with a mel- low expression that betokened good nature, and a peculiar de- scription of \^no\\\ng professional \m\\\o'[ that is never to be met with in any but one of her calling. Rose was dressed in a red flannel petticoat, a warm cotton sack or wrapper, which pinned easily over a large bust, and a comfortable woolen shawl. She always wore a long-bordered morning cap, over which, while traveling, she pinned a second shawl of Scotch plaid; and to pro- tect her from the cold night air, she enfolded her precious person in a deep blue cloak of the true indigo tint. Over her head, over cloak and shawl and morning cap, was fixed a black "splush hat," willi tlie leaf strapped down by lier ears on each side, so that in point of fxct slie cared little how it blew, and never once dreamed that such a process as that vi Raper or Mackintosh was necessary to keep the liege subjects of these realms warm and watcr-proi f, nor that two systems could exist in Ireland so strongly antithetical to each other as those of Raper and Father Mathcw. Having thus given a brief sketch of her local habitation and personal appearance, we shall transfer our readers to the house of a young new-married farmer named Keho, who lived in a dis- tant part of the parish. Keho was a comfortable fellow, full of goodnature and credulity; but his wife happened to be one of the sharpest, meanest, most suspicious and miserable individuals that ever was raised in good-humored Irelamd, Her voice was as THE IRISH MIDWIFE. 281 sharp and her heart as cold as an icicle; and as for her tongue, it wa.? incessant and inteiTninable. Were it not that her husband, who, though good-natured, was fiery and resolute when pro- voked, exercised a firm and salutary control over her, she would have slarvetl both him and her servants into perfect skeletons. And what was still worse, with a temper that was vindictive and tyrannical, she affected to be religious, and upon those who did not know her, actually attempted to put herself off as a saint. One night, about twelve months after his marriage, honest Corny Kelio-anado an it; an' as the child grew up, every one wondhered to hear him speak of the multitudes o' thim that lie seen in all directions. Well, my djar, he kept never sayin' anything to them until one day when he was in the fair of Ballycomaisy, that he saw them whippin' away meal and cotton and butther, an' everytliing that they thought serviceable to THE IRISH MIDWIFE. 285 them; so you see he could hold iu no longer, an' says he to a little fellow that was very active an' thievish among them, 'Why do you tak* wlnt doesn't belong to you ?' says he. The little fellow Foohc-l U > r.': him — " "Gxi L" about us, Rose, what is that white thing goin' along the ditch to the left of us?" "It's a sheep, don't you see ? Faix, I believe you're cowardly at night." " Avfi, faix, an' so it is, but it looked very quare somehow." ♦ — An' says he, ' Mow do you know that ?' • Bekase I see you all,' says the other. ' An' which eye do you see us all wid?' says be again. ' Why, wid the left,' says the boy. Wid that he gave a short whiff of a blast up into the eye, an' from that day not a stime the poor boy was never able to see wid it. No, Phil, I didn't say it was myself — I named iwbody.''^ «' An', Mrs. Moan, is it thrue that you can put the dughaughs tipon them that trate their wives badly ?" "Whisht, Phil. When you marry, keep your timper — that's all. You knew long Ned Donnelly ?" "Aye, bedad, sure enough; there was quare things said about — " "Push an, avick, push an; for who knows how some of us is wanted ? You have a good masther, I believe, Phil ? It's poison the same Ned would give me if he could. Push an, dear." Phil felt that he had got his answer. The abrupt mystery of her manner and her curt allusions left him little indeed to guess at. In this way did tha conversation continue, Phil feloniously filching, as he thouglit, from her own lips, a corroboration of the various knowledge and extraordinary powers which she was be- lieved to possess, and she ingeniously feeding his credulity, merely by enigmatical hints and masked allusions; for although she took care to affirm nothing directly or personally of herself, yet did she contrive to answer him in such a manner as to con- firm every report that had gone abroad of the strange purposes she could effect. "Phil, wasn't there an uncle o' yours up in the Mountain Bar that didn't live happily for some time wid his wife ?" 286 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "I believe so, Rose;, but it was before my lime, or any way when I was only a young shaver. ' ' "An' did you ever hear how the reconcilement came betune them?" "No, bedad," repliel Phil, "I never did; an' that's no won- dher, for it was a thing they never liked to spake of." " Throth, it's thrue for you, boy. Well, I brought about — — push an, dear, push an. They're as happy a couple now as breaks bread, any way, and that's all they wanted." " I'd wager a thirteen it was you did that. Rose." " Hut, gorsoon, hould your tongue. Sure they're happy now, I say, whosomever did it. I named nolx)dy, nor I take no pride- to myself, Phil, out o' sich things. Some people's gifted above others, an' that's all. But, Phil ?" "Well, ma'am?" "How does the Dandy an' his scald of a wife agree? for, throth, I'm tould she's nothing else." " Faix, but niiddlin' itself. As I tould you, she often has us as empty as a paper lanthem, wid sarra a thing but tlie lig'U of a good conscience inside of us. If we pray ourselves, bcgoiia she'll take care we'll have the fastin' at first cost; so that you see, ma'am, we hould a devout situation undher her." " An' so that's the way wid you ?" *' Aye, the downright thruth, an* no mistake. Why, the stir- about she makes would run nine miles along a deal board, an' Bcald a man at the far end of it." "Throth, Phil, I never like to go next or near sich women or sich rlaces, but for the sake o' the innocent we must forget the guilty. So push an, avick, push an. Wlio knows but it's life an' death wid us ? Have you ne'er a spur on ?" " Oh ! not a spur I tuck time to wait for. " " Well, afther all, it's not right to let a messenger come for a woman like me, widout what is called the Midwife's Spur— a spur in the head —for it has long been said that one in the head is worth two in the heel, an' so indeed it is — on business like this, any way." THE IRISH MIDWIFE. 287 "Mrs. Moan, do you know the Moriartys of Ballaghmore, ma'am ?" " \yiiich o' them, honey ?" " Mick o' the Esker Beg." ** To be sure I do. A well-favored, dacint family they are, an' full o' the world, too, the Lord spare it to them." " Bedad, they are, ma'am, a well-favored* family. Well, ma'am, isn't it odd, but somehow there's neither man, woman, nor child in the parish but gives you the good word above all the women in it; but as for a midwife, why, I heard my aunt say that if ever mother an' child owended their lives to another, she did her and the babby's to you." The reader may here perceive that Phil's flattery must have had some peculiar design in it, in connection with the Moriartys, and such indeed was the fact. But we had better allow him to ex- plain matters himself. "Well, honey, sure that was but my duty; but God be praised for all, for everything depinds on the Power above. She should call in one o' those new-fangled women who take out their Dis- patches from the College in Dublin below; for you see, Phil, there is sich a place there — an' it stands to raison that there should bs a Fondlin' Flospital beside it, which theie is too, they say; but, honey, what are these poor ignorant cratures but new lights, ivery oneo' thim, that a dacint woman's life isn't safe wid ?" " To be sure, Mrs. Moan; an' every one knows they're not to be put in comparishment wid a woman like you, that knows sich a power. But how does it happen, ma'am, that the Moriartys does be spakin' but middlin' of you ?" " Of me, avick?" " Aye, faix ; I'm tould they spread the mouth at you sometimes, espishily when the people does be talkin' about all the quare things you can do." "Well, well, dear, let them have their laugh — they may laugh that win, you know. Still one doesn't like to be provoked — no mdeed . "^ ♦This term ia Ireland means " handsome " — " good-looking." 200 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. "Faix, an' Mick Moriarty has a purty daughter, Mrs. Moan, an' a purty penny he can give her, by all accounts. The nerra one o' myself but would be glad to put my comedhcr on her, if Iknew how. Ihope you find yourself aisy on your sate, ma'am ?" "I do, honey. Let them talk, Phil, let them talk; it may come their turn yet — only I didn't expect it from /Acm. You ! hut, avick, what chance would you have with Mick Moriarty's daughter?" "Aye, every chance an' sartinty too, if some one that I know, and that every one that knows her respects, would only give me a lift. There's no use in comin' about the bush, Mrs. Moan — bedad it's yourself I mane. You could do it. An' whisper, be- tune you aiV me it would be only sarvin' them right, in regard of the way they spake of you — sayin' indeed, an' galivantin' to the world that you know no more than another woman, an' that ould Pol Doolin of Ballymagowan knows oceans more than you do." This was perhaps as artful a plot as could be laid for engaging the assistance of Mrs. Moan in Phil's design upon Moriarty's daughter. He knew perfectly well that she would not, unless strongly influenced, lend herself to anything of the kind between two persons whose circumstances in life differed so widely as those of a respectable farmer's daughter with a good portion, and a penniless laboring boy. With great adroitness, therefore, he contrived to excite her prejudices against them by the most suc- cessful arguments he could possibly use, namely, a contempt for her imputed knowledge, and prakse of her rival. Still she was in the liabit of acting coolly, and less from impulse than from a shrewd knowledge of the best way to sustain her own reputation, without undertaking too much. " Well, honey, an' so you wish me to assist you? Maybe I could do it, and maybe — but push an, dear, move him an; we'll think of it, an' spake more about it some other time. I must think of what's afore me now — so move, move, acushla; push an." THE IRISH MIDWIFE. 289 Much conversation of the same nature took place between Ihem, in which each bore a somewhat characteristic part; for to say tTie truth, Phil was as knowing a " boy" as you might wish to become acquainted with. In Rose, however, he had a woman of no ordmary shrewdness to encounter; and the consequence was, that each after a little more chat began to undei'stand the other a little too well to render the topic of the Moriartys, to which Phil again reverted, so interesting as it had been. Rose soon saw that Phil was only a plastluy, or sweetener, and oftly "soothered" her for his own purposes; and Phil perceived that Rose understood his tactics too well to render any further tam- pering with her vanity either safe or successful. At length they arrived at Dandy Keho's house, and in a mo- ment the Dandy himself took her in his arms, and, placmg her gently on the ground, shook hands with and cordially welcomed her. It is very singular, but no less true, that the moment a mid- wife enters the house of her patient, she always uses the plural number, whether speaking in her own person or in that of the former. "You're welcome, Rose, an' I'm proud an' happy to see you here, an' it'll make poor Bridget strong, an' give her courage, to know you're near her." " How are we. Dandy ? how are we, avick?" " Oh, bedad, middlin', wishin' very much for you, of coorse, as I hear — " " Well, honey, go away now. I have some words to say afore I go in, that'll sarve us, maybe — a charm it is that has great var- tue in it. ' ' The Dandy tlien withdrew to the barn, where the male portion of the family were staying until the ultimatum should be known. A good bottle of potteen, however, was circulating among them, for every one knows that occasions of this nature usually generate a festive and hospitable spirit. ******* In the bam the company were very merry, Dandy himself be- ing as pleasant as any of them, unless when his brow becam* 290 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. shaded by the very natural anxiety for the welfare of his wife and child, which from time to time returned upon him. Stories were told, songs sung, and jokes passed, all full of good nature and not a little fun, some of it at the expense of the Dandy himself, who laughed at and took it all in good part. An occasional bulletin came out through a servant maid, that matters were just the same way; a piece of intelligence which damped Keho's mirth considerably. At length he himself was sent for by the Midwife, who wished to speak with him at the door. *' I hope there's nothing like danger. Rose ?" "Not at all, honey; but the truth is, we want a seventh son who isn't left-handed." "A seventh son ! \\Tiy, what do you want him for ?" " Why, dear, just to give her three shakes in his arms; it never faUs." •'Bedad, an' that's fortunate ; for there's Mickey M'Sorley of the Broad Bog's a seventh son, an' he's not two gunshots from this." " Well, aroon, hurry off one or two o' the boys for him, and tell Phil, if he makes haste, that I'll have a word to say to him afore I go." This intimation to Phil put feathers to his heels; for from the moment that he and Barny started, he did not once cease to go at the top of his speed. It followed as a matter of course that honest Mickey M'Sorley dressed himself and was back at Keho's house before the family believed it possible the parties could have been there. This ceremony of getting a seventh son to shake the sick woman, in cases where difficulty or danger may be appre- hended, is one which frequently occurs in remote parts of the country. To be sure, it is only a form, the man merely taking her in his arms, and moving her gently three times. The writer of this, when young, saw it performed with his own eyes, as the saying is; but in his case the man was not a seventh son, for no such person could be procured. When this difficulty arises, any man who hxs the character of being lucky, provided he is not married to a red-haired wife, may be called in to give the three THE IRISH MIDWIFE. 29I •hakes. In other and more dangerous cases Rose would send out persons to gather half a dozen heads of blasted barley, and, having stripped them of the black fine powder with which they were covered, she would administer it in a little new milk, and this was always attended by the best effects. It is somewhat sur- prising that the whole Faculty should have adopted this singular medicine in cases of similar difficulty, for in truth it is that which is now administered under the more scientific name of Ergot of Rye. • In the case before us, the seventh son sustained his reputation for good luck. In about three-quarters of an hour Dandy was called in "to kiss a strange young gintleman that wanted to see him." This was an agreeable ceremony to Dandy, as it always is to catch the first glimpse of one's own first-bom. On entering he found Rose sitting beside the bed in all the pomp of authority arid pride of success, bearing the infant in her arms, and dan- dling it up and down, more from habit than any necessity that then existed for doing so. "Well," said she, "here we are all safe and sound, God willin'; an' if you're not the father of as purty a yomig man as ever I laid eyes on, I'm not here. Corny Kelio, coma an' kiss your son, I say." Corny advanced, somewhat puzzled whether to laugh or cry, and taking the child up with a smile, he kissed it five times — for that is the mystic number — and as he placed it once more in Rose's arms, there was a solitary tear on his cheek. " Arra, go an' kiss your wife, man alive, an' tell her to have a good heart, an' to be as kind to all her fellow-creatures as God has been to her this night. It isn't upon this world the heart ought to be fixed, for we see how small a thing and how short a time can take us out of it." "Oh, bedad," said Dandy, who had now recovered the touch of feeling excited by the child, "it would be too bad if I would grudge her a smack." He accordingly stooped and kissed her; but, truth to confess, he did it with a very cool and business-like 2gi THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. air. •' I know," he proceeded, " that she'll have a heart like a jyant, now that the son is come." "To be sure she will, an' she must; or if not, 77/ play the sorra, an' break things. Well, well, let her get strength a bit first, an' rest an' quiet; an' in the meantime get the groanin'- malt ready, until every one in the house drinks the health of the stranger. My soul to happiness, but he's a bom beauty. The nerra Keho of you all never was the aiquails of what he'll be yet, plaise God. Troth, Corny, nfe has daddy's nose upon him, any how. Aye, you may laugh; but, faix, it's thrue. You may take with him, you may own to him, anywhere. Arra, look at that ! My soul to happiness if one egg's liker another I Eh, my posey ! Where was it, alanna ? Aye, you're there, my duck o' diamonds ! Troth, you'll be the flower o' the flock, so you will. An' now, Mrs. Keho, honey, we'll lave you to yourself awhile, till we thrate these poor cratures of sarvints; the likes o' them oughtn't to be overlooked; an' indeed they did feel a great deal itself, poor things, about you; an' moreover they'll be longin' of coorse to see the darlin' here." Mrs. Keho's mother and Rose superintended the birth-treat be- tween them. It is unnecessary to say that the young men and girls had their own sly fun upon the occasion ; and now that Dandy's apprehension of danger was over, he joined in their mirth with as much glee as any of them. This being over, they all re- tired to rest; and honest Mickey M'Sorley went home very hearty * in consequence of Dandy's grateful sense of the aid he had rendered his wife. The next morning. Rose, after dressing the infant and performing all the usual duties that one expected from her, took her leave in these words: "Now, Mrs, Keho, God bless you an' yours, and take care of yourself, I'll see you again on Sunday next, when it's to be christened. Until then, throw out no dirty wather before sunrise or after sunset; an' when Father Molloy is goin' to christen it, let Corny tell him not to forget to christen it against the fairies , an' thin it'll be safe. Good-bye, ma'am; an' look you to her, Mrs. •Tipsy. THE IXISH MIDWIFE. 293 Flnnegan," said she, addressing her patient's mother, "an' banaght latfi till I see all again." The following Sunday morning. Rose paid an early visit to her patient, for, as it was the day of young Dandy's -christening, her presence was considered indispensable. There is, besides, something in the appearance and bearing of a midwife upon those occasions which diffuses ?. spirit of bouyancy and light-hearted- ness not only through the immediate family, but also through all who may happen to participate in the ceremony, or partake of the good cheer. The moment she was seen approaching the house, every one in it felt an immediate elevation of spirits, with the ex- ception of Mrs. Keho herself, who knew that wherever Rose had the arrangement of the bill of fare, there was sure to be what the Irish t;all " full an' plinty " — " lashins an' lavins " — a fact which madp her r^roan in spirit at the bare contemplation of such waste and extravagance. She was indeed a woman of a very un-Irish heart- -so sharp in her temper and so penurious in soul, that one would imagine her veins were filled with vinegar instead of blood. "■* Baiiaght DIuah in shoh^^ (the blessing of God be here), Rose exclaimed on entering. ^'' Banaghi Dhea agush Murra ghuid^^ (the blessing of God and the Virgin on you), replied Corny, "an' you're welcome. Rose ohagur." " I know that, Corny. Well how are we ? — how is my son ?" "Begorra, thrivin' like a pair o' throopers." " Tiiank God for it ! Haven't we a good right to be grateful to him, any way ? An' is my little man to be christened to-day ?" "Indeed he is — the gossips will be here presently, an' so will her mother. But, Rose, dear, will you take the ordhcrin' of the aitin' an' drinkin' part of it ? — you're betther up to these things than we are, an' so you ought, of coorse. Let there be no want of anytliing ; an' if there's an overplush, son-a may care; there'll be poor mouths enough about the door for whatever's left. So, you see, keep never mindin' any hint she may give you — you know she's a little o' the closest; but no matther. Let there, as I said, be enough an' to spare." 294 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. " Throth, there spoke your father's son, Corny : all the ould •dacency's not dead yet, anyhow. Well, I'll do my best. But she's not fit to be up, you know, an' of coorse can't disturb us." The expression of her eye could not be misunderstood as she uttered tliis. " I see," said Corny — " devil a betther, if you manage that, all's right." " An' now I must go in, till I see how she an' my son's gettin' an: that's always my first start; bekase you know. Corny, honey, that their health goes afore everything." Having thus undertaken the task required of her, she passed into the bedroom of Mrs. Keho, whom she found determined to be up, in order, as she said, to be at the head of her own table. "Well, alanna, if you must, you must; but in the name of goodness I wash my hands out of the business teetotally. Dslik, dshk, dshk ! Oh, wuria ! to think of a woman in your state risin' to sit at her own table ! That I may never, if I'll see it, or be about the place at all. If you take your life by your own wilfulness, why, God forgive you; but it mustn't be while I'm here. But since you're bent on it, why, give me the child, an' afore I go, anyhow, I may as well dress it, poor thing ! The heavens pity it^my little man — eh ? — where was it ? — cheep — that's it, a ducky; stretch away. Aye, stretchin' an' thrivin' an' my son ! Oh, thin, wurra ! Mrs. Keho, but it's you that ought to ax God's pardon for goin' to do what might lave that darlin' o' the world an orphan, may be. Arrah, if I can have patience wid you. May God pity you, my child. If anything happened your mother, what 'ud become of you, and what 'ud become of your poor father this day? Dshk, dshk, dshk!" These latter sounds, exclamations of surprise and regret, were produced by striking the tongue against that part of the inward gum which covers the roots of the teeth . "Indeed, Rose," replied her patient, in her sharp, shrill, quick voice, " I'm able enough to get up; if I don't we'll be hard rished. Corny's a fool, an' it'll be only rap an' rive wid every one in the place." THE IRISH rriDWIFE. 295, "Wait, ma'am, if you plaise. Where's his little barrow?' Aye, I have it. Wait, ma'am, if you plaise, till I get the child dressed, an' I'll soon take myself out o' this. Heaven presarve us! I have seen the like o' this. afore — aye, have I — where it was as clear as crystal that there loas something over them — aye, over them that took their own way as you're doin'." "But if I don't get up?" "Oh, by all manes, ma'am — by all manes. I suppose you have a laise o' your life, that's all. It's what I wish I could get." "An' must I stay here in bed all day, an' me able to rise, an' sich willful waste as will go on, too ?" " Remember you're warned. This is your first baby, God bless- it an' spare you both. But, Mrs. Keho, docs it stand to raison that you're as good a judge of these things as a woman like me, that it's my business ? I ax you that, ma'am." This poser in fact settled the question, not only by the reason- able force of the conclusion to be arrived from it, but by the cool, authoritative manner in which it was put. " Well," said the other, " in that case I suppose I must give in. You ought to know best." "Thank you kindly, ma'am; have you found it out at last? No, but you ought to put your two hands undher my feet for pre- vintin' you from doin' what you intinded. That I may never sup sorrow, but it was as much as your life was worth. Compose yourself; I'll see that there's no waste, and that's enough. Here, hould my son — why, thin, isn't he the beauty o' the world, now that he has got his little dress upon him ? — till I pin up this apron across the windy; the light's too strong for you. There, now; the light's apt to give one a headache when it comes in full bint upon the eyes that way. Come, alanna, come an now, till I show you to your father an' them all. Wurra, thin, Mrs. Keho, darlin'," (this was said in a low confidential whisper, and in a playful wheedimg tone which baffles all description), "wurra, thin, Mrs. Keho, darlin', but it's he that's the proud man, the proud Corny, this day. Rise year head a little — aisy — there now, that'll do — 2^6 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. one kiss to my son, now, before he laives his mammy, he says, for a weeny while, till he pays his little respects to his daddy an' to all his friends, he says, an' thin he'll come back to mammy agin — to his own little bottle, he says." Young Corny soon went the rounds of the whole family, from his father down to the little herd-boy who followed and took care of the cattle. Many were the jokes which passed between the youngsters on this occasion — ^jokes which have been registered by such personages as Rose, almost in every family in the kingdom, for centuries, and with which most of the Irish people are too in- timately and thoroughly acquainted to render it necessary for us ! to repeat them here. Rose now addressed herself to the task pf preparing breakfast, which, in honor of the happy event, was nothing less than " tay, white bread and Boxty, with a glass of poteen to sharpen the appetite." As Boxty, however, is a description of bread not gen- erally known to our readers, we shall give them a sketch of the manner in which this Irish luxury is made. A basket of the best potatoes is got, which are washed and peeled raw ; then is pro- i cured a tin grater, on which they are grated ; the water is then shired off them, and the macerated mass is put into a clean sheet, or table-cloth, or bolster-cover. This is caught at each end by two strong men, who twist it in opposite directions until the con- ■ tortions drive up the substance into the middle of the sheet, etc.; -this of course expels the water also; but lest tlie twisting should .be insufficient for that purpose, it is placed, like a cheese-cake, f under a heavy weight, until it is properly dried. They then knead it into cakes, and bake it on a pan or griddle; and when eaten with butter we can assure our readers that it is quite delicious. The hour was now about nine o'clock, and the company asked to the christening began to assemble. The gossips or sponsors were four in number; two of them wealthy friends of the family that had never been married, and the two others a simple country pair, who were anxious to follow in the matrimonial steps of Corny and his wife. The rest were, as usual, neighbors, tela- THE IRISH MIDWIFE. 297 tivss, and clccroeens, to the amount of sixteen or eighteen persons, men, women and children, all dressed in their best apparel, and disposed to mirth and friendship. Along with the rest was Bob M'Cann, the fool, who, by the way, could smell out a good dinner with as keen a nostril as the wisest man in the parish could boast of, and who, on such occasions, carried turf and water in quan.i- ties that indicated the supernatural strength of a Scotch brownie, rather than that of a human being. Bob's qualities, however, were well proportioned to each other, for, truth to say, his ap- petite was equal to his strength, and his cunning to either. Corny and Mrs. Moan were in great spirits, and indeed we might predicate as much of all who were present. Not a soul entered the house who was not brought up by Corny to an out- shot room, as a private mark of his friendship, and treated to an underhand glass of as good poteen " as ever went down the red lane," to use a phrase common among the people. Nothing upon an occasion naturally pleasant gives conversation a more cheerful impulse than tins; and the consequence was, that in a short time the scene was animated and mirthful to an unusual degree. Breakfast at length commenced in due form. Two bottles of whiskey were placed upon the table, and the first thing done was to administer a glass to each guest. "Come, neighbors," said Corny, "we must dhrink the good woman's health before we ate, especially as it's the first time, anyhow." "To be sure they will, achora, an' why not? An' if it's the first time, Corny, it won't be the — Musha ! you're welcome, Mrs. ! an' jist in time, too." This she said, addressing his mother-in-law, who then entered. "Look at this swaddy, Mrs. ; my soul to happiness, but he's fit to be the son of a lord. Eh, a pet ? Where was my darlin' ? Corny, let me dip my finger in I he whiskey till I rub his gums wid it. That's my bully ! Oh, the heavens love it, see how it puts the little mouth about lookin* for it agin. Throth you'll have the spunk in you yet, acushla, an' it's credit to the Kehos you'll be, if you're spared, as you will, plaise heavens '" tgB THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. " Well, Comy," said one of the gossips, "here's a speedy up- rise an' a sudden recovery to the good woman, an' the little gthranger's health, an' God bless the baker that gives thirteen to the dozen, anyhow !" "Aye, aye, Paddy Rafferty, you'll have your joke any way; an', throth, you're welcome to it, Paddy; if you weren't, it isn't standin' for young Comy you'd be to-day." "Thrue enough," said Rose, " an', by the dickens, Paddy isn't the boy to be long under an obligation to any one. Eh, Paddy, did I help you there, avick ? Aisy, childre; you'll smother my son if you crash about him that way." This was addressed to some of the youngsters, who were pressing round to look at and touch the infant. "It won't be my fault if I do, Rose," said Paddy, slyly eye- ing Peggy Betagh, then betrothed to him, who sat opposite, her darlc eyes flashing with repressed humor and affection. Deaf- ness, however, is sometimes a very convenient malady to young ladies, for Peggy immediately commenced a series of playful at- tentions to the unconscious infant, which were just sufficient to excuse her from noticing this allusion to their marriage. Rose looked at her, then nodded comically to Paddy, shutting both her eyes by way of a wink, addmg aloud, "Throth you'll be the happy boy, Paddy; an' woe betide you if you aren't the sweetest end of a honeycomb to her. Take care an' don't bring me upon you. Well, Peggy, never mind, alanna; who has a betthcr nght to his joke than the dacent boy that's — aisy, childre: saint's above ! but ye'U smother the child, so you will. WHiere did I get him, Denny ? sure I brought him as a present to Mrs. Keho; I never come but I bring a purty little babljy along wid me — than the dacent boy, dear, that's soon to be your lovin' husband? Arrah, take your glass, acushla; the sorra harm it'll do you." " Bedad, I'm afcard, Mrs. Moan. What if it 'ud get into my head, an' me to stand for my little godson ? No, bad scran to me if I could — faix, a glass 'ud be too many for me." "It's not more than half filled, dear; but there's sense in what the girl says, Dandy, so don't press it an her." THE IRISH MIDWIFE. 299 In the brief space allotted to us we could not possibly give any^ thing like a full and correct picture of the happiness and hilarity which prevailed at the breakfast in question. When it was over they all prepared to go to the parish chapel, which was distant at least a couple of miles, the midwife staying at home to see that all the necessaiy preparations were made for dinner. As they were departing, Rose took Dandy aside and addressed htm thue: "Now, Dandy, when you see the priest, tell him that it is youj' wish, above all things, 'that he should christen it against the fairies.' If you say that, it's enough. And, Peggy, achora, come here. You're not carryin' that child right, alanna; but you'll kjiow betther yet, plaise goodness. No, avillish, don't keep its I'tlle head so closely covered wid your cloak; the day's a bumin' day, glory be to God, an' the Lord guard my child; sure the least thing in the world, where there's too much hait, 'ud smothar my darlin'. Keep its head out farther, and just shade its little face that way from the sun. Och, will I ever for- get the Suiiday whin poor Mally M'Guigan wint to take Pat Feasthalagii's child from under her cloak to be christened, the poor infant was a corpse; an' only that the Lord put it into my head to have it privately christened, the father an' mother's hearts would break. Glory be to God ! Mrs. Duggan, if the child gets cross, dear, or misses anything, act the mother by him, tha little man. Eh, alanna ! where was it ? Where was my dnclf o' diamonds — my little Con Roe? My own sweety little ace q' hs.irts — eh, alanna ! Well, God keep it till I see it again, thejcs^el!" Well, tha cliild was baptized by the name of his father, and the persons assembled, after their return from chapel, lounged about Comy's house, or took little strolls in the neighborhood, until the hoax of dinner. This of course was much more convi- vial, and ten times more vociferous than the breakfast, cheerful as that meal was. At dinner they had a dish v/hich we believe is, like the Boxty, peculiarly Irish in its composition; we mean what is called stJiUh. This consists of potatoes and beans, pounded JOO THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. trp together in such a manner that the beans are not broken, and on this account the potatoes are well champed before the beans are put into them. This is dished in a large bo-vvl, and a hole made in the middle of it, into which a miscaim or roll of butter is thrust, and then covered up until it is melted. After this, every one takes a spoon and digs away with his utmost vigor, dipping every morsel into the well of butter in the middle, before he puts it into iiis mouth. Indeed, from the strong competition which goes forward, and the rapid motion of each right hand, no spectator could be mistaken in ascribing the motive of their pro- ceedings to the principle of the old proverb, devil take the hind- most. Sthilk differs from another dish made of potatoes in much the same way, called cokannon. If there were beans, for instance, in colcannon, it would be sthilk. After dinner the whiskey began to go round, for in these days prnich was a luxury almost unknown to the class we are writing q£ In fact, nobody there knew how to make it but the midwife, Vho wisely kept the secret to herself, aware that if the whiskey were presented to tliem in such a palatable shape, they would not know wlien to stop, and she herself might fall short of the snug bottle that is usually kept as a treat for those visits which she ct)nlinues to pay during the convalescence of her patients. " Com;i, Rose," said Corny, who was beginning to soften fast, "it's your turn now to thry aglassof what has never seen walher." " I'll take the glass, Dandy — 'deed will I — but the thruth is, I never dhrink it hard. No, but I'll jist take a drop o' hot wather an' a grain o' sugar, an' scald it; that an' as much carraway scc^ls as will lie upon a sixpence does me good; for, God help me, the stomach isn't at all stlirong wid me, m regard o' bein' up so much at night, an' deprived of my nathural rest." " Rose," said one of them, " is it thrue that you war called out one night, an' brought blindfoulded to some grand lady bclongin' to the quality ?" '* Wait, avick, till I make a drop o' ivmt-grace* for the mis- thress, poor thing; an' Corny, I'll jist throuble you for about a * A wan-grace is a kind of small gruel or meal tea, sweetened with sugar. THE IRISH MIDWIFE. 3OI thimbleful o' spirits to take the smell o' the wather off it. The poor creature, she's a little weak still, an' indeed it's wonderfiil how she stood it out; but, my dear, God's good to his own, an' fits the back to the burden, praise be to his name !" She then proceeded to scald the drop of spirits for herself, or, in otlier words, to mix a good tumbler of ladies' punch, making it, as the plirase goes, hot, strong and sweet — not forgetting the carraways, to give it a flavor. This being accomplished, she made the wan-grace for Mrs. Keho, still throwing in a word now and then to sustain her part in the conversation, which was now rising fast into mirth, laughter and clamor. *' Well, but Rose, about the lady of quality; will you tell us that ?" "Oh, many a thing happened me as well worth tellin', if you go to that; but I'll tell it to you, childre, for sure the curiosity's nathural to yez. Why, I was one night at home an' asleep, an I hears a horse's foot gallopin' for the bare life up to the door. I immediately put my head out, an' the horseman says, ' Are you Mrs. Moan ?' *' ' That's the name that's an me, your honor,' says myself. " ' Dress yourself, thin,' says he, 'for you're sadly wanted; dress yourself and mount behind me, for there's not a moment to be lostl' At the same time I forgot to say that his hat was tied about his face in sich a way that I couldn't catch a glimpse of it. Well, my dear, we didn't let the grass grow under our feet for about a mile or so. 'Now,' says he, ' you must allow yourself to be blindfoulded, an' it's useless to oppose it, for it must be done. There's the character, maybe the life, of a great lady at stake; so be quiet till I cover your eyes, or,' says he, lettin' out a great oath, • it'll be worse for you. I'm a desperate man;' an' sure enough, 1 could feel the heart of him beatin' undher his ribs as if it would bust in pieces. Well, my dears, what could I do in the hands of a man that was strong and desperate ? ' So,' says I, * cover my eyes in welcome; only for the lady's sake, make no delay.' Wid that he dashed his spurs into the poor horse, an' he foamin' an' smokin' like a lime-kiln already. Anyway, in 502 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. about half an hour I found myself in a grand bedroom; an' jist as I was put into the door he whishpers me to bring the child to him in the next room, as soon as it would be born. Well, sure I did so, afther lavin' the mother in a fair way. But what 'ud you have of it ? the first thing I see, lyin' an the table, was a purse of money an' a case o' pistols. Whin I looked at him, I thought the devil, Lord guard us ! was in his face, he looked so black and terrible r.bout the brows. ' Now, my good woman,' says he, 'so far you've acted well, but there's more to be done yet. Take your choice of these two,' says he, 'this purse or the contents o* one o' these pistols as your reward. You mustmurdher the child upon the spot.' ' In the name of God an' his Mother, be you man or devil, I defy you,' says I; ' no innocent blood '11 ever be shed by these hands.' ' I'll give you ten minutes,' says he, 'to pui an end to that brat there;' an' wid that he cocked one o' the pisl6ls. iMy dears, I had nothin' for it but to say in to myself a pailier an' ave as fast as I could, for I thought it was all over wid me. However, glory be to God, the prayers gave me great stringth, an' I spoke stoutly. 'Whin the king of Jerusalem,' saj-s i, ' an he was a greater man than ever you'll be— whin the king of Jerusalem ordhered the midwives of Aigyp to put Moses to death, they wouldn't do it, an' God preserved them in spite of him, king though he was,' says I; ' an' from that day to this it was never known that a midwife took away the life of the babe she aided into the world — no, an' I'm not goin' to be the first that'll do it.' ' The time is out,' says he, pultin' the pistol to my ear, ' but I'll give you one minute more.' 'Let me go to my knees first,' says I; 'an' may God have mercy on my sowl, for, bad as I am, I'm willin' to die sooner than commit murdher an the innocent.' He gave a start as I spoke, an' threw the pistol down. ' Aye, ' said he, ' an the innocent — an the innocent — that is thrue ! But you are an extraordinary woman: you have .saved that child's life, and previnted me from committing two great crimes, for it was my intintion to murdher you afther you had murdhered it.' I thin, by his ordhers, brought the poor child to its mother, and whin I came back to the room, 'Take that purse,' THE IRISH MIDWIFE. 303 says he, ♦ an' keep it as a reward for your honesty. ' ' Wid the help o' God,' says I, ' a penny of it will never come into my company, so it's no use to ax me.' ' Well,' says he, ' afore you lave this, you must swear not to mintion to a livin' sowl what has happened this night, for a year and a day.' It didn't signify to me whether I mintioned it or not; so being jack-indifferent about it, I tuck the oath and kept it. He thin bound my eyes agin, hoisted me up behind him, an' in a short time left me at home. Indeed, I wasn't the betther o' the start it tuck out o' me for as good as six weeks afther !" The company now began to grow musical; several songs were ^ng; and when the evening got farther advanced, a neighboring fiddler was sent for, and the little party had a dance in the bam, to which they adjourned lest the noise might disturb Mrs. Keho, had they held it in the dwelling-house. Before this occurred, however, the "midwife's glass " went the round of the gossips, each of whom d^anlc her health, and dropped some silver, at the same time, into the bottom of it. It was then returned to her, and with a smiling face she gave the following toast: "Health to fhe parent stock ! So long as it thrives, there will always be branches ! Corny Keho, long life an' good health to you an' yours ! May your son live to see himself as happy as his father ! Youngsters, here's that you may follow a good example ! The company's health in general I wish; an', Paddy Rafferty, that you may never have a blind child but you'll have a lame one to lead it ! ha, ha, ha ! What's the world widout a joke ? I must see the good woman an' my little son afore I go; but as I won't follow yez to the bam, I'll bid yez good-night, neighbors, an' the blessin' of Rose Moan be among yez !" And so also do we take leave of our old friend Rose Moan, the Irish midwife, who, we understand, took her last leave of the world many years ago. 304 THE ZOZIMUS PAPiiKS. THE WILL 0' THE WISP. Many years ago, the writer of this, being in the city of Dublin, had the pleasure of hearing the following story from the lips of (he far-famed " Zozimus." I have never before seen it in print, and thinking it might perhaps interest your readers, I will en- deavor to give it as nearly as possible in the words of its famous narrator, though acknowledging my utter inability to even re- moljjy appro.ijli his inimitable style of delivering it. It was told wiih sucli earnestness, that I have no doubt whatever that Zozi- mils bims-.'If i:r.plicitly believed in the truth of every word he utt:;rc-J. The storj runs: — 111 olden times there lived in the northern part of Ireland a Uatksmith calk-d William Cooper. Now William was a sort of a loose chap, and d^ flivil entirely at all spoorls. He was noted for atid near as tlfe hardest drinker and most reckless dare-divil in tlu couaty. Finally his squandering habits plunged iiim head an' heels iu debt, and he had no possible manner of payin'. In his dispare hi called on the Ould Boy below to help him, an' shure enougTi, the divil came at his call. William struck a bar- gain wid him at once which appeared to satisfy both parties. William was to receive as much goold as he cud spind, but, in re- turn, he was to sell his sowl to tlie Ould Lad, who was to cum fur him in seven years' lime. After William had signed the bond with his blud, the divil disappeared in a flash of blue flame. William soon got from bad to wursc, spindin' and squanderin' his money in foolishness and dissipation. But wid all that he wuz no ways mane or stingy in the matter THE WILL O' THE WISP. 3©^ ofhelpin' a poor nabur, an' many wuz the blessin' he got from their grateful hearts, an' many wuz the prayerofl'ered up fur God to direct him to the right road agin. Howsomever, it seemed all of no avail, an' it looked as if noth- in' wud ever turn him. One day an ould woman whom he cum across axed him far some alms. He didn't wait to spake, but put his fist in his pocket and drawed out a bright goold guinea, which he handed to her, saym', ' 'There, me poor woman, an' I ':ope it will do you more good than it wud do me." The ould woman thanked him kindly, fur you must understhand that a guinea in them days wuz thought a big lot of money entirely by the poor people. So she says to him, "Now, William Cooper, since you have been so kind to a poor ould woman, I will grant you any three wishes you ax fur." You see the ould woman was a fairy — one of the good folks, you know (this was uttered by Zozimus in a low voice and with a confidential manner) — an' she had the power of granting; wishes, pervided it wouldn't injure a mortal's sow!. Well,*me brave William spoke up an' says: " Furst ov all, I wish that aixy one that lifts my sledge to slhrike wid it, must kape on slhrikin' till I take it aff him." "That wish is granted," sgjd the fairy. " Ne.xt, I wish that any one that sits down in my arm-chair can never get up out ov it till I relase them." " That wish is also granted," said the fairy. " And now, fur the last one, I wish fur a purse that no one but myself can take anything out ov that I put in it." The fairy immediately drew a purse from her pocket, an' givin' it to William, says: ♦'Your wishes are all granted," an' thin she disappeared. Some time after this, as William wuz wurkin' away at his forge an' whistlin' to himself, who shud walk in the door but ould Beelzebub. " Ha, ha, William," he sez; " I've cum fur ye at last — timers up, me boy." "All right," sez Will, not alarmed in the laste. " I'm ready to go, av you wait till I finish these plow- irons fur a nabur; I promised him I'd do thim fur him to-day, an' I wudn't like to go down below till I fulfilled me promise, so as not to disappoint him." "All right," sez the divil, "I'll wait." " Take the sledge, thin, an' give me a hand," sez Wil- liam, "an' I'll be done all the quicker." 306 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. So the divil took the sledge an' commenced to strike. Well, he struck, an' struck, an' stmck away till he was tired out, an' sick an' sore in every limb, an' there stud Will laughing at him. When he was most ready to drop down, he cries out: *' Will, Will, asthore, av you only take this aff me, I'll not bother you fur five years to cum, an' let you have all the money you want to spind till I cum agin." "It's a bargain," sed William; so he tuk the sledge aflfhim an' the divil disappeared. After this William wint on wurse than ever, an' got so that he wudn't do any wurk at all, until his time was near up. Thin he straightened up a little. One day he wasplowin' a small patch of ground bclongin' to him, whin the Ould Chap cum fur him agin. " I want you this time," sez the divil. " All right, tna bouchal," sez VsUliam; "cum to the holise wid me till I put on a clane shirt, as I don't like to go into company unless I look dacent." Tli:3 divil agreed to this, an' they wint back to the house leather. " SJu- shecse," sez William, pushing over his arm-chair, so the divil s;il down in it, bud bad scran to the up he cud get agin. Will QDI7 lauglied at him an' put on a clane shirt, an' off to the market town he wint, where thera wuz a fair goin' on. He didn't cum bozk till iate that night, an' there sat the divil still, an' him blue in the face wid his struggles to get out ov the chair. '*01i. Will !" he cried, " let me out of this, and I won't cum agla fur another five years." "All right," says Will, an' he let him go; but on account of his Ixiia' half drunk, he didn't notice that the divil promised him no money this time. Will soon found to his grief that what money ho liad didn't last long, an' people wud give him no work to dn on account of his bad ways. So the long and short of it wu^, that Will at last had to beg his bit from door to door. When the time cum round agin, the divil appeared, an' poor Will sez, " I'm glad you cum, fur I'm tired an' sick of livin', anyhow." THE WILL THE WISP. 307 •• Ah ha !" sez the divil, " you haven't got me in your house or forge now, have you?" "No," sez Will, "I am not thinkin' av playin' any more thricks on you." " I doubt that ye cud, " sez the divil. So aff they marched together. After awhile they passed a public house, an' poor Will sez, •'Many's the time I had a good drink there, an' I'd like to have one partin' drink before lavin' this world, but I haven't a farden. I have aften heard," he sez to the divil, "that you cud change yourself into any shape you like. If you can, just change your- self into a sovereign, an' I can go in an' get a drink, an' thin I'm ready to go anywhere you take me." "All right," sez the divil, "I'll oblige you now, as it's the last time an' I'm sure av you." So he changed himself into the coin and Will put him into his purse. Then he wint into the tap-room, an' throwin' the purse on the table called for some poteen; after drinking several times the tapster axed for his money, an' Will told him to take it from the purse; bud av he wuz tryin' from thin till now, av coorse he cudn't take it out. Will sez, "I've offered you the money an' ye wudn't take it, so I'll keep it myself;" an' he put the purse in his pocket, and they bundled him out. Back he marches to his forge an' put the purse on the anvil. Liftin' his sledge he began to belt away at it, till the ould laddie buck widin it begged fur-mercy. At last he sung out: "Will, asthore, av you let me out av this, I'll niver cum next or near ye agin, an' I'll give ye money enough to last you your life-time." "Agreed," sez William, an' he released him, an' the di\'il flew away yellin' from the batin' he got. After this Will lived nice an' comfortable, an' give away a grate dale in charity, besides buildin' up a fine town called BallymuUy. At last, however, he had to die, like we all have, so he dropped off. He marched to the gate of heaven and axed to get in; bud whin he told his name, they sed he had dalings wid the Avil One, an' he cudn't get in there. So they packed 308 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. him off. Back he marched till he got to the door of the other place, an' axed to get in. They axed him whowuz there, an' he Bed William Cooper. " Oh ho ! don't let him in," sed the Ould Divil, " or he'll get the best ov us all here; he bested me whin he vvu3 on airth, an' av he got in, he'd best me here too. Pack him off; we don't want him." Sj they threw him out a lighted wisp of straw, an' from that day till this he has been wanderin' around the world with his lio^hted wisp, trying to find some place to get rest. THE FLOWER OF THE WELL. 309 THE FLOWER OF THE WELL A STORY OF MAY-DAY. Amongst the many singular superstitions once so popular in the remote country districts, "skimming the well," on May morning, was not the least curious. With the first light of day- break a person repaired to some famous spring, where, by taking the "cream" from the surface, whilst uttering a strictly con- ventional incantation, it was supposed that his or her neighbor's cows would cease to yield butter, their falling off being compen- sated for by the sudden increase in the yield of their own. The ceremony falls under the general name of pishogues, that is to say, charms, by which the "good people" were propitiated in behalf of the celebrant. Countless stories and legends have this odd custom for a common basis; and, as in all proceedings where the supernatural element is supposed to be invoked, fairies have been described as taking a share in the process. Every one in Drumshawn, from Bill Hagarty, whose forge stood at the east of the village, to Johnny Walker, the "tea- man," whose "general grocery and spirit establishment " was situate at the west, knew Grace Lanigan. She was a little, wiry-limbed, blear-eyed old woman, who went about the village in a red hood and a check apron, her feet encased in a pair of high-soimding brogues. Grace betrayed in her attire a gipsyish fondness for plaids and bright colored fabrics, in consequence of which she was popularly known by the nick-name of " the ould dandy." Amongst her other peculiarities, she was passionately addicted to the use of a short, black pipe, which it was believed 3IO THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. was scarcely absent from her mouth even when she slept. In all matters of witchcraft, spells and charms, Grace was an able and illustrious proficient. She could tell fortunes by a process which these pages do not afford room to describe; she cultivated the house leek in the thatch of her cottage, and had a horse-shoe nailed to the side-post, as a protection from the imps and elves that do mischief by night. No season of the year passed over without its sp;cial superstitious observance — Shrovetide, Mid- summer, Halloween, each had its peculiar rite. Much has been written to fasten the charge of gross impiety on educated persons of tlie class to which Grace belonged; yet it is not too much to say that learning and logic are misused when thus applied, and that the world will persist in believing that the evil of our super- stitions is more than counterbalanced by their poetry and im- aginativeness. Grace had once been well-to-do in the world, but dark days had befallen her. She used to look back with grief to the day when ten cows were milked, morning and evening, in her bawn, and she was mistress of a farm of between forty and fifty acres. It was not imprudence which had brought about the change, but the badness of tlie times and harvests. All her spells could not prevent her cattle dying, her com rotting before it had ripened. Disaster, as Mr. Poe has it, followed disaster, until Grace was left but a patch of land and a single cow. Those she had, and nothing more. We omitted from this brief inventory, Nick Lanigan, her only son, a youth of some twenty summers, who had never done any good; and intended, if appearances meant anything, to carry out that useful programme to the end of his days. Nick stood nearly six feet in his vamps, and was as fine a specimen of the rawbone type of manly beauty as could be found in the province. He had a head of reddish colored hair, which fell in two great shocks over his temples, and covered his scalp with a bluff crop resembling sunburnt brushwood. The lid of his right eye de- pended permanently to such an extent that it almost covered the orb below it, and lent liis face a winking expression which, in THE FLOWER OF THE WELL. 3! I combination with the solemn grotesqueness of his mouth and the receding lines of his chin, constituted a physiognomy at once ludicrous, helpless and impotent. Nick had the reputation of being a fool, and to some extent the popular belief was counten- anced by his acts and sayings. It was said that he slept on the floor in a sack, and that no amount of instruction could induce him to remember the exact number of pence in a shilling. He went hatless and shoeless in all weathers, turning up the ends of his trousers so as to expose a pair of lean calves, floridly colored by exposure to fire and weather. Yet, in the main, Nick was no fool, and what is better, no coward. He was wise enough to re- fiise all belief in his mother's spells and charms, and wicked enough to provoke her by expelling her pishogues. If only re- buked for a misdemeanor, he would place his back to the wall, and laugh like a tickled griffin until the tears started into his eyes, and his sides ached from shaking. But whenever his mother's displeasure sought an outlet in blows, Nick would " make " for the door, and betake himself to a neighboring lime-kiln, where he lived on roasted potatoes, often for three consecutive days, until the storm blew over. At last he sinned grievously against the parental authority, and was driven firom the house with a volley of injunctions "never to darken the door after during the rest of his mortal life." The expulsion cost the hopeless youth little anxiety. As he said himself, " he was used to it; " and he returned to his old quarters with a sobriety of temper and an alacrity of pace which would have done honor to a greater philosopher. The cause of the fracas was this. One May-day, Grace, who had been mys- teriously absent in the morning, returned home about noon, drew her creepeen to the fire, and having lighted her black pipe, took a meditative smoke up the chimney. Mother and son were silent for many minutes^the one enjoying her pipe, the other pro- foundly engaged in the manufacture of bird-lime. Any one looking at the two would have guessed that no common anxiety lay at Grace's heart — an anxiety in which Nick had more share than he wished should be made public. Eventually, Grace began 513 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. to rock herself from side to side, a proceeding which always gav« Nick considerable displeasure, and often forced him to leave the house. " Musha, mother," he asked, at last, lifting his head from the bird-lime and casting a malicious look at the old woman, " isn't that child asleep yet ? " Grace, who fully appreciated the force of the joke, raised her head for a moment, and slowly resumed her rocking move- ment. "Nick," she said, after a short pause, " you must soon go out and turn a hand for yourself. Things is going to the bad — worse and worse — and if I can make out a bit an' sup for myself, it's more than I'll be able to do for you, you idlin' vagabone." "Why, then, isn't your frinds, the good people, goin' to be- fiind yez a bit, aither, afther yer thrubble to plaze them — eh, mother ? " Grace took a long whiff and knocked out the ashes of her pipe on the hob. " Faix, avourneen, I believe they're just as hard up as ourselves, the crathurs, an' more's the pity." " Musha, don't be runnin' away wid yer seven senses entirely, mother. Avcoorse, * Ni ghuil saoi gam lockt, and that's nay- ther here nor there wid people that have oceans of goold and silver to do as they likes wid. I'll be bail now, an' the cow ninnin' as dhry as a cart wheel, yez didn't skim the well this momin'." Grace groaned profoimdly and crossed her arms on her knees. " It's not the first good thing a fool said," she answered, " and I did thry to skim the well this morning, but I might as well be attemptin' to prod the blessed moon with a knittin'-needle." " Is she in her right mind at all ? " said Nick, by way of an apostrophe addressed to a third party. " Horns and knittin'- necdles, inagh ! " " Yerra, you omadhaun, sure 'tis hard enough to get any on • derstandin' into that red head iv yerz, Afther all my thrubble, 1 might as well be pratin' to the griddle, as thryin' to learn yez.'" * No one's without a failing. THE FLOWER OF THE WELL. Jt^J "Ai, thin, doesyer hear her? " continued Nick, with a most unfilial interraption. " Isn't it as aisy for you to say, wanst for all in all, av yez skimmed the well this mornin' ? Begor, if yez didn't, give the cow a goold meddle and pinsion her off dacenlly, this minute." "Haven't I towld yez I was up and skimmed it airly enough, you bosthoon?" shouted Grace, whose temper was visibly de- clining in the wrong direction. "Now, that's a plain answer," rejoined Nick, suppressing a laugh. " Av yez said that at fust see all the thrubble ye'd spare yerself. Why thin, mother, now that yer comin' out raisonable, tell us all about it, won't yez ? " " Until yez bell it all over the parish, I suppose," said Grace, with a little bitterness. •' Is it me, mother ! Dickens the word then they'll hear iv it from me, I be bail. ' ' Grace having been repeatedly assured that Nick would preserve her secret inviolably, and impelled by the natural desire we all feel tp lighten our burdens by sharing them with others, took her pipe fix)m her mouth and began as follows: "Yez see, Nick, as the ould cow, bad scannin to her, was makin' up her mind to give up milkin' completely, I sez to my- self that I'd see what could be done by setting a charm to take away Biddy Grady's crame and butther and bring it back to our- selves. May-mornin', you know, great a fool as you are, is the only time of the year to set the rale charm ; so I got up before the cock was crowin', and set off to Tubher-ahina with the new skimmer in my pocket. An' when I got to the brink iv the well, lo and behold you ! what was sittin' there foreninst me on the top iv a bulrush but an ould crather about the hoith of a piggin 1 Arrah, yez should see his nose ! 'twas as long an' as sharp as Paddy Crosby's shears, and on the top iv his shoulders he had a hump like a sergeant's knapsack. There he was sated as nat« as tuppence, and as grand as a lord. " * Mornin,' ma'am,' sez he, winkin' at me wid his two eyes. «• *Musha, the same to yerself,' sez I, • if there's no offince in wishin' U.' 314 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. •' 'Troth an' there's not, ma'am,' sez my ould laddo. 'Isn't it airly yer out ? ' sez he agin' . *«* Every one to his taste,' sez I, ' as the lady said when she kissed her cow.' " ' Indeed,' sez he, 'indeed ! Is it any hami to ask when yer- self kissed yer cow last ? ' " ' Oh, faix, as for that matther,' sez myself, makin' answer to him, ' 'tis as the fit comes an' goes. It isn't every day a heifer can dhry her mouth,' sez I; ' wid a cambric handkercher. ' •"Thrue for you, Mrs. Lanigan,' says he, giving a twist atop iv the bulrush. ' Are yez makin' much by your butther these times? ' '"Asyez asked the kushtion civil, agregal,' sez I, 'I'd be sorry to desave yez. Why thin, I'm bate intirely this sayson. Yez might as well be milkin' a milestone as to persuade the cow to do her duty; an',' sez I, followin' up the discoorse, ' if some- thin' don't turn up this mornin', I'll have to give up house and home, and go weedin', or bindin', or somethin' iv that sort.' "'Skim away,' siz he, 'skim away, Mrs. Lanigan, and the divil is in it,' says he, scratchin' his head, and takin' a pinch iv snniT, ' if yez don't do betther nor yer doin'.' " ' More power to yez,' sez I to him, dippin' the new skimmer Info the well ; and faith, it was hardly wet, when I hears a great hallooin' over head, and on lookin' up, does yez see, what was there above me, flyin' about in the air, but two or three foine leedies, galavantin' wid aich other, and makin' the curiorsest noise I ever heerd. Well, whilst they kept ginglin' and tumin', all iv a sudden, as Murty Regan's mare broke her leg, they set up a cry of ' Butther is goin', butther is comin'; alew ! ' I cocks my eye at thim, and sees that, barrin' the quare way they had of flottherin' up and down, they were nate lookin' girls, dressed in poplin from top to toe, only that it was a bit thin and sliaky from bein' washed so often. The ould gintleman that was fominst me was gone asleep when I wanted to ask him who they were, but jest straight at his back I seen another couple iv boyos roostin' atop iv the sedg^. One iv them was smokin' a pipe a bit short- THE FLOWER OF THE WELL. 3I5 er than my own dudheen, and to see his ould shrivelled-up face workin' in and out as he tuk his blast, would make a milestone burst with laughter. But the thing that was wid him banged anTthin' I iver dhremt iv. Yerra, Nick, he had a head on his shoulders for all the world like a carrot, and out iv it was two horns, turned round and round like a cat's tail at the inds. •' * Takin' yer smoke,' says myself to the gorsoon wid the pipe, "'Musha, who gave yez yer knowledge?' sez he, puttin' down the ashes wid the butt of his little finger. ' Dickens shoot me, Mike,' sez he, tumin' to the other gorsoon, ' but those ignor- amuses will bate us clane out iv the country before Slirovetide.' " 'Sure, any one harkenin' to yez would think 'twas the school- masther was spakin',' sez I, 'barrin' he'd hang a dozen iv yer seed and breed in the ink-bottle at his button-hole. ' " 'Didn't I tell yez, Mike?' sez he, tumin' round agin to the chap wid the horns. ' We won't stand it no longer, ' sez he, tak- in' the pipe from his mouth. ' And what ill wind blew yez here so airly, Mrs. Lanigan?' sez he. •' ' I'd be sorry to desave yez,' sez I, ' though I wish it was some one else put the kusthun. Isn't it as plain as the pipe in yer ugly gob that 'twas no good wind dhruv me where you are ?' '"Butther is goin', butther is comin',' cried the girls hoigh above us. «' ' Does yez hear that, Mrs. Lanigan ?' sez my neighbor — 'are yez listenin' to that?' sez he, wid a grin that went from ear to ear. ' If yez hasn't lost all yer teeth, skim the well, and take to yer shankers,' sez he, ' or the devil resave the bit of butther ye'll see whilst yer name's Grace.' '* ' 'Tisn't the first time somebody,! won't mintion, gave a good advice,* sez Ij 'and here's at yez ;' and wid that I dipped the skimmer agin into the well, but I might as well thry to lift the wathey into a sieve, for it all ran out through the bottom. ' " ' Begor, yec'done. for at last, ' sez the ould bosthoon, cacklin' to himself Mwid divarshin. ♦ Thry it agin,' sez he, ' there's many a slip 'twten the cup and the lip, Mrs. Lanigan, darlint.' 3l6 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. " • What makes the wather run through the skimmer ?' sez I, gettin' angry. " 'Don't you see the rayson,' sez he — ' arrah, because it won't stop in it, Mrs. Lanigan.' " • Y'ev been to school, masther,* sez I to him, * and by the same token, yez always sat on the windy side av the hedge, and didn't hear much iv the lamin', ma bouchal.' •' 'Ah, thin, Grace,' sez he, lookin' as sayrious as a bed-post, 'there's a pair av us there, ai?' And wid that the pair of geese set up a screech of laughin' that set me dancin' in the tan- thrums. " 'Butther is goin' — butther is comin',' sez the ladies. '"Yez betther cut your stick, Grace,' Sitys the ould fellow, *or skim the well at wanst. Take another dip, agragal, and who knows the luck yez may git ?' " So I took him at his word, and put the skimmer down a soccond time, but keepin' out the tide wid a pitchfork was divar- shin to thryin' to take up the crame wid a skimmer that wouldn't hould chaney. alleys. *' The boyos began laughin', my dear, agin, and siz they, 'Grace, did yez meet 'eer a red-haired woman this momin' ?' " ' Troth, no,' siz I. " 'Did yez come across 'eer a magpie?' siz they. «' 'Troth, I didn't,' sez I agin. •' 'Maybe you overlooked Nick's throwin' an ould shoe afther yez, as yez left the house,' says the lad wid the horns. " 'Begannys, yer right, my bucko,' sez I, remimberin' it all of ahape. *♦ • Then,' sez he, ' yez might as well be bailen' out the green bay with a bottomless thimble. Lave it alone, acushla, and betther luck next time. ' " The words was hardly out av his mouth when I hears a great hallooln' in the air^ and on lookin' up, may I never turn another fod av turf if the air for a mile round wasn't thick wid fairies, flyin' from all quarthers, wid keelers of milk fastened to their backs. Arrah, to see them was a thrate worth walkin' a distance THE FLOWER OF THE WELL. ^IJ for. Some av them had tails, and some av them no tails at all ; some av them had beards cockin' stiff out av their chins, and some had no more beard on thim than yersclf, avic. You needn't be scrapin' yer chin, Nick, 'tis as bare as the dale table there. Such noses and faces I neve.- seen before ; and whilst they were batin' about the bushes, the girls set up the ould song agin, ' Butther is goin' — butther is comin'.' Immediately all the gor- soons rowled the full of their keelers into a big tub, and sez one, * Let Grace Lanigan look out now,' sez he, ' for if her cow was as ould as Methusala, she'll milk as much now as a pratystalk.' Hearin' this discoorse, I made another dip iv the skimmer, and no sooner I missed it agin than Larry Hayes' cock ( divil choke him ) began crowin', and all the fairies vanished from my sight. So, Nick, darlint, look out for yerself, av yez have look at your side. I've towld yez all, lock, stock and bairel. There'll be no more milk, no more nothing ; troth, I see " "Wait a bit, mother," exclaimed Nick, and as he spoke he took up a position between her and the door. " Have yez the skimmer about yez ? " *' FaLx, I have, safe and sound in my pocket, alanna." "And did yez look at the bottom av it when yer set off to skim the well this morning ? " '"Deed, thin, I didn't." "Well, thin, look at it now, and ye'll find three round holes burned wid a red hould-fast in the bottom av it." Grace held the skimmer between her eyes and the cloudy light that came through the window. Abrief examination of the uten- sil verified Nick's statement. "Ah, thin, who done this, alanna?" she asked, "ai, who done this ? Tell me." "Musha, faith, mother, 'twas me, for the fun av it," replied her hopeful son. Grace grasped the bent hoop which served for a tongs in her humble household, and rushed at her guilty offsprmg. Nick, who evidently anticipated such a movement, escaped from the house and stood "mopping and mowing" before the door. 3l8 THE ZOZIMUS PAPERS. " And, mother, does yez know why the ould oow's milk ran short? Shure yez ud never guess — faith, bekase I dhrank it." A suppressed scream was Grace's only answer. "While there's life in yer body," she shouted, " shun this house, I warn yez, mind, I warn yez ; ' ' and with these words she closed the door, and reseated herself on the creepeen. Nick, we are told, stayed away for three weeks, and in his ab- sence, so considerable was the increase in the yield of milk, that Grace recovered her temper, forgave her undutiful son, and thenceforth grew somewhat credulous in the potency of charms, though she clung faithfully to her old belief in the world of Fafiry. PUBLICATIONS OP p. J. KENEDY, EXCELSIOR Catholic Pablishin§r House, 5 BARCLAY ST., NEAR BROADWAY, Opposite the Astor House, NEW YORK. Adventure ft of Michael Dtvyer.$l OO AUelniar tha Templar, A Tale.. 40 Ballads, Poems, and Songs of William Collins 1 00 Slanrhe, A Tale from the French. . . 40 Jiaffle of Ventri/ Harbor 20 Bibles, from $3 50 to 15 Of} Brooks and Haghes Controversy 75 Butler's Feasts and Fasts 1 25 Catholic Prayer-Books, 25c., 50c., up to 12 00 C^~ Any of above books sent free by mail on receipt of price. Agents wanted everywhere to sell above books, to whom liberal terms will be given. Address P. J. 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