LITTLE CLASSICS 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 ROSSITER JOHNSON 
 
 STORIES OF 
 COMEDY 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 
 d&e ttitoer0itie pre^tf Cambridge 
 1914
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1875, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & C<X 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR Samuel Later . . 7 
 
 HADDAD-BEN-AHAB THE TRAVELLER John Gait ... 58 
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST WM. M. Thackeray 67 
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY Horace Smith . . 102 
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPS . . Samuel Ferguso? . 131 
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE Jniliam Hoiritt % 168 
 
 THE GRIDIRON Samuel lover . 206 
 
 THE Box TUNNEL charla Readt. 217
 
 BARNY (VREIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 
 
 BY SAMUEL LOVER. 
 
 I. 
 
 OUTWARD BOUND. 
 
 !ARNY O'KEIKDON was a fisherman of Kin- 
 sale, and a heartier fellow never hauled a net 
 nor cast a line into deep water : indeed Barny, 
 independently of being a merry boy among his compan- 
 ions, a lover of good fun and good whiskey, was looked 
 up to, rather, by his brother fishermen, as an intelligent 
 fellow, and few boats brought more fish to market than 
 Barny O'Reirdon's ; his opinion on certain points in the 
 craft was considered law, and in short, in his own little 
 community, Barny was what is commonly called a lead- 
 ing man. Now your leading man is always jealous in an 
 inverse ratio to the sphere of his influence, and the leadei 
 of a nation is less incensed at a rival's triumph than the 
 great man of a village. If we pursue this descending 
 scale, what a desperately jealous person the oracle of 
 oyster-dredges and cockle-women must be ! Such was 
 Barny O'Reirdon.
 
 8 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 Seated one night at a public house, the common resort 
 of Barny and other marine curiosities, our hero got en- 
 tangled in debate with what he called a strange sail, 
 that is to say, a man he had never met before, and whom 
 he was inclined to treat rather magisterially upon nauti- 
 cal subjects ; at the same time the stranger was equally 
 inclined to assume the high hand over him, till at last 
 the new-comer made a regular outbreak by exclaiming, 
 " Ah, tare-and-ouns, lave aff your balderdash, Mr. 
 0'R.eirdon, by the powdhers o' war it 's enough, so it 
 is, to make a dog bate his father, to hear you goin' an as 
 if you war Curlumberus or Sir Crustyphiz Wran, when 
 ivery one knows the divil a farther you iver war nor 
 ketchin crabs or drudgen oysters." 
 
 "Who towld you that, my Watherford WondherP" 
 rejoined Barny ; "what the dickens do you know about 
 sayfarin' farther nor fishin' for sprats in a bowl wid your 
 grandmother P " 
 
 " O, baithershin," says the stranger. 
 
 " And who made you so bowld with my name ? " de- 
 manded O'Reirdon. 
 
 "No matther for that," said the stranger; "but if 
 you'd like for to know, shure it's your own cousin 
 Molly Mullins knows me well, and maybe I don't know 
 you and yours as well as the mother that bore you, aye, 
 in throth ; and sure I know the very thoughts o' you as 
 well as if I was inside o' you, Barny O'Reirdon." 
 
 " By my sowl thin, you know betther thoughts than 
 your own, Mr. Whippersnapper, if that 's the name you 
 goby." 
 
 " No, it 's not the name I go by ; I 've as good a name
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 9 
 
 as your own, Mr. O'Reirdon, for want of a betther, and 
 that 's O'Sullivan." 
 
 " Throth there 's more than there 's good o' them," 
 said Barny. 
 
 " Good or bad, I 'm a cousin o' your own twice re- 
 moved by the mother's side." 
 
 " And is it the Widda 0' Sullivan's boy you 'd be that 
 left this coine Candlemas four years ? " 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " Throth thin you might know better manners to your 
 eldhers, though I 'm glad to see you, anyhow, agin ; but 
 a little thravellin' puts us beyant ourselves sometimes," 
 said Barny, rather contemptuously. 
 
 " Throth I nivir bragged out o' myself yit, and it 's 
 what I say, that a man that's only fishin' aff the land all 
 his life has no business to compare in the regard o' 
 thracthericks wid a man that has sailed to Fingal." 
 
 This silenced any further argument on Barny's part. 
 Where Fingal lay was all Greek to him ; but, unwilling 
 to admit his ignorance, he covered his retreat with the 
 usual address of his countrymen, and turned the bitter- 
 ness of debate into the cordial flow of congratulation at 
 seeing his cousin again. 
 
 The liquor was frequently circulated, and the conver- 
 sation began to take a different turn, in order to lead 
 from that which had very nearly ended in a quarrel be- 
 tween O'Reirdon and his relation. 
 
 The state of the crops, county cess, road jobs, etc., be- 
 came topics, and various strictures as to the utility of the 
 latter were indulged in, while the merits of the neighbor- 
 ing farmers were canvassed.
 
 10 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " Why thin," said one, " that field o' whate o' Michael 
 Coghlan is the finest field o'whate mortial eyes was ever set 
 upon, divil the likes iv it myself ever seen far or near." 
 
 " Throth thin sure enough," said another, " it prom- 
 ises to be a fine crap anyhow, and myself can't help 
 thinkin' it quare that Mikee Coghlan, that's a plain- 
 spoken, quite (quiet) man, and simple like, should have 
 finer craps than Pether Kelly o' the big farm beyant, 
 that knows all about the great saycrets o' the airth, and 
 is knowledgeable to a degree, and has all the hard words 
 that iver was coined at his fingers' ends." 
 
 " Faith, he has a power o' blasthogue about him sure 
 enough," said the former speaker, " if that could do him 
 any good, but he is n't fit to hould a candle to Michael 
 Coghlan in the regard o' farmin'." 
 
 " Why blur and agers," rejoined the upholder of sci- 
 ence, "sure he met the Scotch steward that the lord 
 beyant has, one day, that I hear is a wondherful edicated 
 man, and was brought over here to show us all a pat- 
 thern, well, Pether Kelly met him one day, and, by 
 gor, he discoorsed him to a degree that the Scotch chap 
 had n't a word left in his jaw." 
 
 " Well, and what was he the betther o' having more 
 prate than a Scotchman ? " asked the other. 
 
 "Why," answered Kelly's friend, "I think it stands 
 to rayson that the man that done out the Scotch steward 
 ought to know somethin' more about farmin' than Mikee 
 Coghlan." 
 
 "Augh! don't talk to me about knowing," said the 
 other, rather contemptuously. "Sure I gev in to you 
 that he has a power o' prate, and the gift o' the gab,
 
 BAENY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 11 
 
 and all to that. I own to you that he has the-o-ry, and 
 che-mis-thery , but he has n't the craps. Now, the man 
 that has the craps is the man for my money." 
 
 "You're right, my boy," said O'Reirdon, with an 
 approving thump of his brawny fist upon the table, 
 " it 's a little talk goes far, doin' is the thing." 
 
 " Ah, yiz may run down larnin' if yiz like," said the 
 undismayed stickler for theory versus practice, "but 
 larnin' is a fine tiling, and sure where would the world 
 be at all only for it, sure where would the staymers 
 (steamboats) be, only for larnin' ? " 
 
 "Well," said O'Reirdon, "and the divil may care if 
 we never seen them ; I 'd rather depind an wind and 
 canvas any day than the likes o' them ! What are they 
 good for, but to turn good sailors into kitchen-maids, 
 bilin' a big pot o' wather and oilin' their fire-irons, and 
 throwin' coals an the fire ? Augh ? thim staymers is a 
 disgrace to the say ; they 're for all the world like old 
 fogies, smokin' from mornin' till night and doin' no good." 
 
 " Do you call it doin' no good to go fasther nor ships 
 iver wint before ? " 
 
 "Pooh; sure Solomon, queen o' Sheba, said there 
 was time enough for all things." 
 
 " Thrue for you," said O'Sullivan, "fair and aisy goes 
 far in a day, is a good ould sayin'." 
 
 " Well, maybe you '11 own to the improvement they 're 
 makin' in the harbor o' Howth, beyant, in Dublin, is 
 some good." 
 
 " We '11 see whether it '11 be an improvement first," 
 said the obdurate O'Reirdon. 
 
 " Why, man alive, sure you '11 own it 's the greatest
 
 12 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 o' good it is, takin' up the big rocks out o' the bottom 
 o' the harbor." 
 
 " Well, an' where 's the wondher o' that ? sure we 
 done the same here." 
 
 "0 yis, but it was whin the tide was out and the 
 rocks was bare; but up at Howth, they cut away the 
 big rocks from undher the say intirely." 
 
 " O, be aisy ; why how could they do that ? " 
 
 " Aye, there 's the matther, that 's what larnin' can 
 do ; and wondherful it is intirely ! and the way it is, is 
 this, as I hear it, for I never seen it, but heerd it de- 
 scribed by the lord to some gintlemin and ladies one 
 day in his garden where I was helpin' the gardener to 
 land some salary (celery). You see the ingineer goes 
 down undher the wather intirely, and can stay there as 
 long as he plazes." 
 
 " Whoo ! and what o' that ? Sure I heered the long 
 sailor say, that come from the Ay stern Injees, that the 
 ingineers there can a'most live under wather ; and goes 
 down looking for diamonds, and has a sledge-hammer 
 in their hand, brakin' the diamonds when they 're too 
 big to take them up whole, all as one as men brakin' 
 stones an the road." 
 
 " Well, I don't want to go beyant that ; but the way 
 the lord's ingineer goes down is, he has a little bell wid 
 him, and while he has that little bell to ring, hurt nor 
 harm can't come to him." 
 
 " Arrah be aisy." 
 
 " Divil a lie in it." 
 
 " Maybe it 's a bussed bell," said O'Reirdon, crossing 
 himself.
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 
 
 " No, it is not a blissed bell." 
 
 " Why thin now do you think me sich a born nathral 
 as to give in to that ? as if the ringin' iv the bell, barrin' 
 it was a blissed bell, could do the like. I tell you it 's 
 impossible." 
 
 " Ah, nothin' 's impossible to God." 
 
 " Sure I was n't denyin' that ; but I say the bell is 
 impossible." 
 
 " Why," said O'Sullivan, " you see he 's not alto- 
 gether complete in the demonstheration o' the mashine ; 
 it is not by the ringin' o' the bell it is done, but " 
 
 " But what ? " broke in O'Reirdon impatiently. " Do 
 you mane for to say there is a bell in it at all at all ? " 
 
 " Yis, I do," said 0' Sullivan. 
 
 " I towld you so," said the promulgator of the story. 
 
 "Aye," said 0' Sullivan, "but it is not by the ringin' 
 iv the bell it is done." 
 
 " Well, how is it done then ? " said the other, with a 
 half-offended, half-supercilious air. 
 
 "It is done," said O'Sullivan, as he returned the look 
 with interest, " it is done entirely by jommethry." 
 
 " Oh ! I understan' it now," said O'Reirdon, with an 
 inimitable affectation of comprehension in the Oh ! 
 "but to talk of the ringin' iv a bell doin' the like is 
 beyant the beyants intirely, barrin', as I said before, it 
 was a blissed bell, glory be to God ! " 
 
 "And so you tell me, sir, it is jommethry," said the 
 twice-discomfited man of science. 
 
 "Yis, sir," said O'Sullivan with an air of triumph, 
 which rose in proportion as he carried the listeners 
 along with him, "jommethry."
 
 14 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " Well, have it your own way. There 's them that 
 won't hear rayson sometimes, nor have belief in larnin' ; 
 and you may say it 's jommethry if you plaze ; but I 
 heerd them that knows betther than iver you knew 
 say-" 
 
 " Whisht, whisht ! and bad cess to you both," said 
 0'R.eirdon, "what the dickens are yiz goin' to fight 
 about now, and sich good liquor before yiz ? Hillo ! 
 there, Mrs. Quigley, bring uz another quart i' you plaze ; 
 aye, that 's the chat, another quart. Augh ! yiz may 
 talk till yo're black in the face about your invintions, 
 and your .staymers, and bell ringin' and gash, and rail- 
 roads ; but here 's long life and success to the man that 
 invinted the impairil (imperial) quart ; that was the rail 
 beautiful invintion." And he took a long pull at the 
 replenished vessel, which strongly indicated that the in- 
 crease of its dimensions was a very agreeable measure 
 to such as Barny. 
 
 After the introduction of this and other quarts, it would 
 not be an easy matter to pursue the conversation that 
 followed. Let us, therefore, transfer our story to the 
 succeeding morning, when Barny O'Reirdon strolled 
 forth from his cottage, rather later than usual, with 
 his eyes bearing eye witness to the carouse of the pre- 
 ceding night. He had not a headache, however; 
 whether it was that Barny was too experienced a cam- 
 paigner under the banners of Bacchus, or that Mrs. 
 Quigley's boast was a just one, namely, "that of all 
 the drink in her house, there was 'nt a headache in a 
 hogshead of it," is hard to determine, but I rather 
 incline to the strength of Barny's head.
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 15 
 
 Barny sauntered about in the sun, at which he often 
 looked up, under the shelter of compressed bushy brows 
 and long-lashed eyelids, and a shadowing hand across his 
 forehead, to see "what o' day" it was; and, from the 
 frequency of this action, it was evident the day was 
 hanging heavily with Barny. He retired at last to a 
 sunny nook in a neighboring field, and stretching him- 
 self at full length, basked in the sun, and began "to 
 chew the cud of sweet and bitter thought." He first 
 reflected on his own undoubted weight in his little com- 
 munity, but still he could not get over the annoyance 
 of the preceding night, arising from his being silenced 
 by 0' Sullivan; "a chap," as he said himself, "that lift 
 the place four years agon a brat iv a boy, and to think 
 iv his comin' back and outdoin' his elders, that saw him 
 runnin' about the place, a gassoon, that one could tache 
 a few months before " ; 't was too bad. Barny saw his 
 reputation was in a ticklish position, and began to con- 
 sider how his disgrace could be retrieved. The very 
 name of Fingal was hateful to him ; it was a plague- 
 spot on his peace that festered there incurably. He 
 first thought of leaving Kinsale altogether; but flight 
 implied so much of defeat, that he did not long indulge 
 in that notion. No ; he would stay, " in spite of all the 
 O'Sullivans, kith and kin, breed, seed, and generation." 
 But at the same time he knew he should never hear the 
 end of that hateful place, Fingal ; and if Barny had had 
 the power, he would have enacted a penal statute, mak- 
 ing it death to name the accursed spot, wherever it was ; 
 but not being gifted with such legislative authority, he 
 felt Kinsale was no place for him, if he would not sub-
 
 16 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 mit to be flouted every hour out of the four, and- twenty, 
 by man, woman, and child, that wished to annoy him. 
 What was to be done ? He was in the perplexing situa- 
 tion, to use his own words, "of the cat in the thripe 
 shop," he did n't know which way to choose. At last, 
 after turning himself over in the sun several times, a 
 new idea struck him. Couldn't he go to Fingal him- 
 self? and then he 'd be equal to that upstart, O' Sullivan. 
 No sooner was the thought engendered, than Barny 
 sprang to his feet a new man; his eye brightened, his 
 step became once more elastic, he walked erect, and 
 felt himself to be all over Barny O'Reirdon once more. 
 " Richard was himself again." 
 
 But where was Fingal? there was the rub. That 
 was a profound mystery to Barny, which, until discov- 
 ered, must hold him in the vile bondage of inferiority. 
 The plain-dealing reader would say, " Could n't he ask ? " 
 No, no ; that would never do for Barny : that would 
 be an open admission of ignorance his soul was above, 
 and consequently Barny set his brains to work to devise 
 measures of coming at the hidden knowledge by some 
 circuitous route, that would not betray the end he was 
 working for. To this purpose, fifty stratagems were 
 raised, and demolished in half as many minutes, in the 
 fertile brain of Barny, as he strided along the shore ; and 
 as he was working hard at the fifty-first, it was knocked 
 all to pieces by his jostling against some one whom he 
 never perceived he was approaching, so immersed was 
 he in his speculations, and on looking up, who should 
 it prove to be but his friend " the long sailor from the 
 Aystern Injees." This was quite a godsend to Barny,
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 17 
 
 and much beyond what he could have hoped for. Of 
 all men under the sun, the long sailor was the man in a 
 million for Barny's net at that minute, and accordingly 
 he made a haul of him, and thought it the greatest catch 
 he ever made in his life. 
 
 Barny and the long sailor were in close companionship 
 for the remainder of the day, which was closed, as the 
 preceding one, in a carouse ; but on this occasion there 
 was only a duet performance in honor of the jolly god, 
 and the treat was at Barny's expense. What the nature 
 of their conversation during the period was, I will not 
 dilate on, but keep it as profound a secret as Barny 
 himself did, and content myself with saying, that Barny 
 looked a much happier man the next day. Instead of 
 wearing his hat slouched, and casting his eyes on the 
 ground, he walked about with his usual unconcern, and 
 gave his nod and the passing word of civilitude to every 
 friend he met; he rolled his quid of tobacco about in 
 his jaw with an air of superior enjoyment, and if dis- 
 turbed in his narcotic amusement by a question, he took 
 his own time to eject " the leperous distilment " before 
 he answered the querist, a happy composure, that be- 
 spoke a man quite at ease with himself. It was in this 
 agreeable spirit that Barny bent his course to the house 
 of Peter Kelly, the owner of the " big farm beyant," be- 
 fore alluded to, in order to put in practice a plan he had 
 formed for the fulfilment of his determination of rivalling 
 O'Sullivan. 
 
 He thought it probable that Peter Kelly, being one 
 of the " snuggest " men in the neighborhood, would be 
 a likely person to join him in a " spec," as he called it
 
 18 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 (a favorite abbreviation of his for the word "specula- 
 tion "), and accordingly, when he reached the " big-farm 
 house," he accosted the owner with his usual "God 
 save you." 
 
 " God save you kindly, Barny," returned Peter Kelly ; 
 "an' what is it brings you here, Barny," asked Peter, 
 " this fine day, instead o' being out in the boat ? " 
 
 " O, I '11 be out in the boat soon enough, and it 's far 
 enough too I '11 be in her ; an' indeed it 's partly that 
 same is bringin' me here to yourself." 
 
 "Why, do you want me to go along wid you, Bar- 
 ny?" 
 
 " Troth an' I don't, Mr. Kelly. You 're a knowledge- 
 able man an land, but I 'm afeared it 's a bad bargain 
 you 'd be at say." 
 
 " And what wor you talking about me and your boat 
 for?" 
 
 "Why, you see, sir, it was in the regard of a little 
 bit o' business, an' if you 'd come wid me and take a 
 turn in the praty-field, I '11 be behouldin' to you, and 
 maybe you'll hear somethin' that won't be displazin' 
 to you." 
 
 "An' welkim, Barny," said Peter Kelly. 
 
 When Barny and Peter were in the "praty-field," 
 Barny opened the trenches (I don't mean the potato 
 trenches), but, in military parlance, he opened the 
 trenches and laid siege to Peter Kelly, setting forth 
 the extensive profits that had been realized at various 
 "specs" that had been made by his neighbors in ex- 
 porting potatoes. "And sure," said Barny, "why 
 should n't you do the same, and they are ready to your
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 19 
 
 hand ? as much as to say, why don't you profit by me, 
 Peter Kelly ? And the boat is below there in the har- 
 bor, and, I '11 say this much, the divil a betther boat is 
 betune this and herself." 
 
 " Indeed, I b'lieve so, Barny," said Peter, " for con- 
 sidhering where we stand, at this present, there 's no 
 boat at all at all betune us." And Peter laughed with 
 infinite pleasure at his own hit. 
 
 "O, well, you know what I mane, anyhow, an', as 
 I said before, the boat is a darlint boat, and as for him 
 that commands her I b'lieve I need say nothin' about 
 that." And Barny gave a toss of his head and a sweep 
 of his open hand, more than doubling the laudatory 
 nature of his comment on himself. 
 
 But, as the Irish saying is, "to make a long story 
 short," Barny prevailed on Peter Kelly to make an ex- 
 port; but in the nature of the venture they did not 
 agree. Barny had proposed potatoes ; Peter said there 
 were enough of them already where he was going ; and 
 Barny rejoined that, "praties were so good in them- 
 selves there never could be too much o' thim anywhere." 
 But Peter being a knowledgeable man, and up to all the 
 "saycrets o' the airth, and understanding the the-o-ry 
 and the che-mis-thery," overruled Barny's proposition, 
 and determined upon a cargo of scalpeens (which name 
 they gave to pickled mackerel), as a preferable merchan- 
 dise, quite forgetting that Dublin Bay herrings were a 
 much better and as cheap a commodity, at the command 
 of the Fingalians. But in many similar mistakes the 
 ingenious Mr. Kelly has been paralleled by other specu- 
 lators. But that is neither here nor there, and it was
 
 20 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 all one to Barny -whether his boat was freighted with 
 potatoes or scalpeens, so long as he had the honor and 
 glory of becoming a navigator, and being as good as 
 O'Sullivan. 
 
 Accordingly the boat was laden and all got in readi- 
 ness for putting to sea, and nothing was now wanting 
 but Barny's orders to haul up the gaff and shake out 
 the jib of his hooker. 
 
 But this order Barny refrained to give, and for the 
 first time in his life exhibited a disinclination to leave 
 the shore. One of his fellow-boatmen, at last, said to 
 him, "Why thin, Barny O'Reirdon, what the divil is 
 come over you, at all at all ? What 's the maynin' of 
 your loitherin' about here, and the boat ready and a 
 lovely fine breeze aff o' the land?" 
 
 "O, never you mind; I b'lieve I know my own 
 business anyhow, an' it 's hard, so it is, if a man can't 
 ordher his own boat to sail when he plazes." 
 
 " 0, I was only thinking it quare ; and a pity more 
 betoken, as I said before, to lose the beautiful breeze, 
 and " 
 
 "Well, just keep your thoughts to yourself, i' you 
 plaze, and stay in the boat as I bid you, and don't be 
 out of her on your apperl, by no manner o' manes, for 
 one minit, for you see I don't know when it may be plaz- 
 in' to me to go aboord an' set sail." 
 
 " Well, all I can say is, I never seen you afeared to 
 go to say before." 
 
 " Who says I 'm afeared ? " said O'Eeirdon ; "you 'd 
 betther not say that agin, or in troth I'll give you a 
 leatherin' that won't be for the good o' your health,
 
 BAENY O'EEIEDON THE NAVIGATOR. 21 
 
 troth, for three straws this minit I 'd lave you that your 
 own mother would n't know you with the lickin' I 'd 
 give you ; but I scorn your dirty insinuation ; no man 
 ever seen Barny O'Reirdon afeard yet, anyhow. Howld 
 your prate, I tell you, and look up to your betthers. 
 What do you know iv navigation ? Maybe you think 
 it's as aisy for to sail on a voyage as to go start a 
 fishin'." And Barny turned on his heel and left the 
 shore. 
 
 The next day passed without the hooker sailing, and 
 Barny gave a most sufficient reason for the delay, by de- 
 claring that he had a warnin* givin him in a dhrame 
 (Glory be to God), and that it was given to him to un- 
 derstand (under Heaven) that it would n't be lucky that 
 day. 
 
 Well, the next day was Friday, and Barny, of course, 
 would not sail any more than any other sailor who could 
 help it on this unpropitious day. On Saturday, how- 
 ever, he came, running in a great hurry down to the 
 shore, and, jumping aboard, he gave orders to make all 
 sail, and taking the helm of the hooker, he turned her 
 head to the sea, and soon the boat was cleaving the blue 
 waters with a velocity seldom witnessed in so small a 
 craft, and scarcely conceivable to those who have not 
 seen the speed of a Kinsale hooker. 
 
 " Why, thin, you tuk the notion mighty suddint, Bar- 
 ny," said the fisherman next in authority to O'Reirdon, 
 as soon as the bustle of getting the boat under way had 
 subsided. 
 
 " Well, I hope it 's plazin* to you at last," said Barny, 
 " troth one ud think you were never at say before, you
 
 22 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 wor in such a hurry to be off; as new-fangled a'most 
 as the child with a play toy." 
 
 "Well," said the other of Barny's companions, for 
 there were but two with him in the boat, " I was think- 
 in* myself, as well as Jemmy, that we lost two fine days 
 for nothin', and we 'd be there a'most, maybe, now, if 
 we sail'd three days agon." 
 
 " Don't b'lieve it," said Baruy, emphatically. " Now, 
 don't you know yourself that there is some days that 
 the fish won't come near the lines at all, and that we 
 might as well be castin' our nets on the dhry land as 
 in the say, for all we '11 catch if we start on an unlooky 
 day ; and sure, I towld you I was waitin' only till I had 
 it given to me to undherstan' that it was looky to sail, 
 and I go bail we '11 be there sooner than if we started 
 three days agon, for if you don't start with good look 
 before you, faix maybe it 's never at all to the end o' 
 your trip you '11 come." 
 
 " Well, there 's no use in talkin' aboot it now, any- 
 how ; but when do you expec' to be there ? " 
 
 " Why, you see we must wait antil I can tell how the 
 wind is like to hould on, before I can make up my mind 
 to that." 
 
 "But you 're sure now, Barny, that you 're up to the 
 coorse you have to run ? " 
 
 "See now, lave me alone and don't be cross crass- 
 questionin' me tare-an-ouns, do you think me sich a 
 bladdherang as for to go to shuperinscribe a thing I 
 was n't aiquil to ? " 
 
 "No; I was only goin' to ax you what coorse you 
 wor goin' to steer P "
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 23 
 
 " You '11 find out soon enough when we get there 
 and so I bid you agin lay me alone, just keep your 
 toe in your pump. Shure I 'm here at the helm, and 
 a weight on my mind, and it 's fitther for you, Jim, to 
 mind your own business and lay me to mind mine ; away 
 wid you there and be handy, haul taut that foresheet 
 there, we must run close on the wind ; be handy, boys ; 
 make everything dhraw." 
 
 These orders were obeyed, and the hooker soon passed 
 to windward of a ship that left the harbor before her, 
 but could not hold on a wind with the same tenacity as 
 the hooker, whose qualities in this particular render it 
 peculiarly suitable for the purposes to which it is applied, 
 namely, pilot and fishing boats. 
 
 We have said a ship left the harbor before the hooker 
 had set sail ; and it is now fitting to inform the reader 
 that Barny had contrived, in the course of his last meet- 
 ing with the " long sailor," to ascertain that this ship, 
 then lying in the harbor, was going to the very place 
 Barny wanted to reach. Barny's plan of action was 
 decided upon in a moment ; he had now nothing to do 
 but to watch the sailing of the ship and follow in her 
 course. Here was, at once, a new mode of navigation 
 discovered. 
 
 The stars, twinkling in mysterious brightness through 
 the silent gloom of night, were the first encouraging, 
 because visible, guides to the adventurous mariners of 
 antiquity. Since then, the sailor, encouraged by a 
 bolder science, relies on the unseen agency of nature, 
 depending on the fidelity of an atom of iron to the 
 mystic law that claims its homage in the north. This
 
 24 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 is one refinement of science upon another. But the 
 beautiful simplicity of Barny O'Reirdon's philosophy can- 
 not be too much admired, to follow the ship that is 
 going to the same place. Is not this navigation made 
 
 easy 
 
 But Barny, like many a great man before him, seemed 
 not to be aware of how much credit he was entitled to 
 for his invention, for he did not divulge to his compan- 
 ions the originality of his proceeding; he wished them 
 to believe he was only proceeding in the commonplace 
 manner, and had no ambition to be distinguished as the 
 happy projector of so simple a practice. 
 
 For this purpose he went to windward of the ship 
 and then fell off again, allowing her to pass him, as he 
 did not wish even those on board the ship to suppose 
 he was following in their wake ; for Barny, like all people 
 that are quite full of one scheme, and fancy everybody 
 is watching them, dreaded lest any one should fathom 
 his motives. All that day Barny held on the same 
 course as his leader, keeping at a respectful distance, 
 however, " for fear 't would look like dodging her," as 
 he said to himself; but as night closed in, so closed in 
 Barny with the ship, and kept a sharp lookout that she 
 should not give him the slip. The next morning dawned, 
 and found the hooker and ship companions still; and 
 thus matters proceeded for four days, during which 
 entire time they had not seen land since their first 
 losing sight of it, although the weather was clear. 
 
 "By my sowl," thought Barny, "the channel must 
 be mighty wide in these parts, and for the last day or 
 so we 've been goin' purty free with a flowing sheet,
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 25 
 
 and I wondher we are n't closin' in wid the shore by 
 this time ; or maybe it 's farther off than I thought it 
 was." His companions, too, began to question Barny 
 on the subject, but to their queries he presented an 
 impenetrable front of composure, and said "it was 
 always the best plan to keep a good bowld offin'." In 
 two days more, however, the weather began to be sen- 
 sibly warmer, and Barny and his companions remarked 
 that it was " goin' to be the finest sayson God bless 
 it that ever kem out o' the skies for many a long year, 
 and maybe it 's the whate would not be beautiful, and 
 a great dale of it." 
 
 It was at the end of a week that the ship which Barny 
 had hitherto kept ahead of him showed symptoms of 
 tearing down upon him, as he thought, and, sure 
 enough, she did; and Barny began to conjecture what 
 the deuce the ship could want with him, and commenced 
 inventing answers to the questions he thought it possible 
 might be put to him in case the ship spoke him. He 
 was soon put out of suspense by being hailed and ordered 
 to run under her lee, and the captain, looking over the 
 quarter, asked Barny where he was going. 
 
 " Faith then, I 'm goiu' an my business," said Barny. 
 
 " But where ? " said the captain. 
 
 "Why, sure, an' it's no matther where a poor man 
 like me id be goin'," said Barny. 
 
 " Only I 'm curious to know what the deuce you 've 
 been following my ship for, the last week." 
 
 "Follyin' your ship! Why, thin, blur-an-agers, do 
 you think it 's follyin' yiz I am ? " 
 
 "It 's very like it," said the captain. 
 
 VOL. IX. 2
 
 26 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " Why, did two people niver thravel the same road 
 before ? " 
 
 " I don't say they did n't ; but there 's a great differ- 
 ence between a ship of seven hundred tons and a 
 hooker." 
 
 "O, as for that matther," said Barny, "the same 
 high-road sarves a coach and four and a lowback car, 
 the thravellin' tinker an' a lord a' horseback." 
 
 " That 's very true," said the captain, " but the cases 
 are not the same, Paddy, and I can't conceive what the 
 devil brings you here." 
 
 " And who ax'd you to consayve anything about it ? " 
 asked Barny, somewhat sturdily. 
 
 " D n me, if I can imagine what you 're about, my 
 fine fellow," said the captain ; " and my own notion is, 
 that you don't know where the d 1 you 're going 
 yourself." 
 
 "0 baithershin ! " said Barny, with a laugh of de- 
 rision. 
 
 "Why then do you object to tell ? " said the captain. 
 
 " Arrah sure, captain, an' don't you know that some- 
 times vessels is bound to sail under saycret ordhers ? " 
 said Barny, endeavoring to foil the question by badinage. 
 
 There was a universal laugh from the deck of the ship, 
 at the idea of a fishing-boat sailing under secret orders ; 
 for, by this time, the whole broadside of the vessel was 
 crowded with grinning mouths and wondering eyes at 
 Barny and his boat. 
 
 " O, it 's a thrifle makes fools laugh," said Barny. 
 
 " Take care, my fine fellow, that you don't be laugh- 
 ing at the wrong side of your mouth before long, for
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 27 
 
 I 've a notion that you 're cursedly in the wrong box, as 
 cunning a fellow as you think yourself. D n your 
 stupid head, can't you tell what brings you here ? " 
 
 "Why, thin, by gor, one id think the whole say 
 belonged to you, you 're so mighty bowld in axin' ques- 
 tions an it. Why, tare-an-ouns, sure I 've as much right 
 to be here as you, though I have n't as big a ship nor as 
 fine a coat, but maybe I can take as good a sailin' out 
 o' the one, and has as bowld a heart under th' other." 
 
 " Very well," said the captain, " I see there 's no use 
 in talking to you, so go to the d 1 your own way." 
 And away bore the ship, leaving Barny in indignation 
 and his companions in wonder. 
 
 " An' why would n't you tell him ? " said they to 
 Barny. 
 
 " Why, don't you see," said Barny, whose object was 
 now to blind them, " don't you see, how do I know 
 but maybe he might be goin' to the same place himself, 
 and maybe he has a cargo of scalpeens as well as uz, 
 and wants to get before us there." 
 
 " True for you, Barny," said they. " By dad, you 're 
 right." And their inquiries being satisfied, the day 
 passed as former ones had done, in pursuing the course 
 of the ship. 
 
 In four days more, however, the provisions in the 
 hooker began to fail, and they were obliged to have 
 recourse to the scalpeens for sustenance, and Barny then 
 got seriously uneasy at the length of the voyage, and 
 the likely greater length, for anything he could see to 
 the contrary ; and, urged at last by bis own alarms 
 and those of his companions, he was enabled, as the
 
 28 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 wind was light, to gain on the ship, and when he found 
 himself alongside he demanded a parley with the cap- 
 tain. 
 
 The captain, on hearing that the " hardy hooker," as 
 she got christened, was under his lee, came on deck; 
 and as soon as he appeared Barny cried out, 
 
 " Why, thin, blur-an-agers, Captain dear, do you ex- 
 pec' to be there soon ? " 
 
 " Where ? " said the captain. 
 
 " O, you know yourself ! " said Barny. 
 
 " It 's well for me I do," said the captain. 
 
 " Thrue for you, indeed, your honor," said Barny, in 
 his most insinuating tone ; " but whin will you be at the 
 ind o' your voyage, Captain jewel ? " 
 
 " I daresay in about three months," said the cap- 
 tain. 
 
 " Holy Mother !" ejaculated Barny; "three months! 
 arrah, it 's jokin' you are, Captain dear, and only want 
 to freken me." 
 
 " How should I frighten you ? " asked the captain. 
 
 " Why, thin, your honor, to tell God's thruth, I heard 
 you were goin' there, an' as I wanted to go there too, I 
 thought I could n't do better nor to folly a knowledge- 
 able gintleman like yourself, and save myself the throuble 
 iv findin' it out." 
 
 " And where do you think I am going ? " said the 
 captain. 
 
 " Why, thin," said Barny, " is n't it to Fingal P " 
 
 " No," said the captain, " it 's to Bengal." 
 
 " O Gog's blakey ! " said Barny, " what '11 1 do now, 
 atallatallP"
 
 BARNY O'REIEDON THE NAVIGATOR. 29 
 
 II. 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 THE captain ordered Barny on deck, as he wished 
 to have some conversation with him on what he, very 
 naturally, considered a most extraordinary adventure. 
 Heaven help the captain ! he knew little of Irishmen, or 
 he would not have been so astonished. Barny made his 
 appearance. Puzzling question and more puzzling an- 
 swer followed in quick succession between the com- 
 mander and Barny, who, in the midst of his dilemma, 
 stamped about, thumped his head, squeezed his caubeen 
 into all manner of shapes, and vented his despair anathe- 
 matically : " O, my heavy hathred to you, you tanial 
 thief iv a long sailor, it 's a purty scrape yiv led me into. 
 By gor, I thought it was Fingal he said, and now I hear 
 it is Bingal. 0, the divil sweep you for navigation, 
 why did I meddle or make wid you at all at all ? And 
 my curse light on you, Terry O'Sullivan, why did I iver 
 come across you, you onlooky vagabone, to put sich 
 thoughts in my head ? And so it 's Bingal, and not Fin- 
 gal, you 're goin' to, Captain ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Paddy." 
 
 " An' might I be so bowld to ax, Captain, is Bingal 
 much farther nor Fingal ? " 
 
 "A trifle or so, Paddy?" 
 
 " Och, thin, millia murther, weirasthru, how '11 1 iver 
 get there at all at all ? " roared out poor Barny. 
 
 " By turning about, and getting back the road you 've 
 come, as fast as you can."
 
 30 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 "Is it back? Queen iv Heaven! an' how will 
 I iver get back ? " said the bewildered Barny. 
 
 " Then, you don't know your course, it appears ? " 
 
 " O, faix I knew it iligant, as long as your honor was 
 before me." 
 ' " But you don't know your course back ? " 
 
 "Why, indeed, not to say. rightly all out, your honor." 
 
 " Can't you steer ? " said the captain. 
 
 " The divil a betther hand at the tiller in all Kinsale," 
 said Barny, with his usual brag. 
 
 " Well, so far so good," said the captain. " And you 
 know the points of the compass, you have a compass, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 " A compass ! by my sowl an' it 's not let alone a 
 compass, but a pair a compasses I have, that my brother 
 the carpinthir left me for a keepsake whin he wint 
 abroad; but, indeed, as for the points o' thim I can't 
 say much, for the childer spylt thim intirely, rootin' 
 holes in the flure." 
 
 "What the plague are you talking about?" asked 
 the captain. 
 
 " Was n't your honor discoorsin' me about the points 
 o' the compasses ? " 
 
 " Confound your thick head ! " said the captain. 
 "Why, what an ignoramus you must be, not to know 
 what a compass is, and you at sea all your life ? Do you 
 even know the cardinal points ? " 
 
 " The cardinals ! faix, an' it 's a great respect I have 
 for them, your honor. Sure, ar'n't they belongin' to 
 the pope?" 
 
 " Confound you, you blockhead ! " roared the cap-
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 31 
 
 tain, in a rage, " 't would take the patience of the 
 pope and the cardinals, and the cardinal virtues into the 
 bargain, to keep one's temper with you. Do you know 
 the four points of the wind ? " 
 
 " By my sowl, I do, and more." 
 
 " Well, never mind more, but let us stick to four. 
 You 're sure you know the four points of the wind ? " 
 
 " By dad, it would be a quare thing if a seyfarin' man 
 did n't know somethin' about the wind anyhow. Why, 
 Captain dear, you must take me for a nathral intirely, to 
 suspect me o' the like o' not knowin' all about the wind. 
 By gor, I know as much o' the wind a'most as a pig." 
 
 " Indeed, I believe so," laughed out the captain. 
 
 "O, you may laugh if you plaze, and I see by the 
 same that you don't know about the pig, with all your 
 edication, Captain." 
 
 "Well, what about the pig ? " 
 
 " Why, sir, did you never hear a pig can see the 
 wind?" 
 
 " I can't say that I did." 
 
 " O, thin he does, and for that rayson who has a right 
 to know more about it ? " 
 
 " You don't, for one, I dare say, Paddy ; and maybe 
 you have a pig aboard to give you information." 
 
 " Sorra taste, your honor, not as much as a rasher o' 
 bacon ; but it 's maybe your honor never seen a pig 
 tossing up his snout, consaited like, and running like 
 mad afore a storm." 
 
 "Well, what if I have?" 
 
 f< Well, sir, that is when they see the wind a-comin 5 ." 
 
 " Maybe so, Paddy, but all this knowledge in piggery
 
 32 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 won't find you your way home ; and, if you take my 
 advice, you will give up all thoughts of endeavoring to 
 find your way back, and come on board. You and your 
 messmates, I dare say, will be useful hands, with some 
 teaching ; but, at all events, I cannot leave you here on 
 the open sea, with every chance of being lost." 
 
 " Why, thin, indeed, and I 'm behowlden to your 
 honor ; and it 's the hoighth o' kindness, so it is, you 
 offer ; and it 'a nothin' else but a gintleman you are, 
 every inch o' you ; but I hope it 's not so bad wid us 
 yet, as to do the likes o' that." 
 
 " I think it 's bad enough," said the captain, " when 
 you are without a compass and knowing nothing of your 
 course, and nearly a hundred and eighty leagues from 
 land." 
 
 " An' how many miles would that be, Captain ? " 
 
 " Three times as many." 
 
 " I never larned the rule o' three, Captain, and maybe 
 your honor id tell me yourself." 
 
 " That is rather more than five hundred miles." 
 
 " Five hundred miles ! " shouted Barny. " 0, the 
 Lord look down upon us ! how '11 we ever get back ? " 
 
 " That 's what I say," said the captain ; " and there- 
 fore, I recommend you to come aboard with me." 
 
 " And where 'ud the hooker be all the time ? " said 
 Barny. 
 
 " Let her go adrift," was the answer. 
 
 " Is it the darlint boat P 0, by dad, I '11 never hear 
 o' that at all." 
 
 " Well, then, stay in her and be lost. Decide upon 
 the matter at once, either come on board or cast off."
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 83 
 
 And the captain was turning away as he spoke, when 
 Barny called after him, " Arrah, thin, your honor, don't 
 go jist for one minit antil I ax you one word more. If 
 I wint wid you, whin would I be home again ? " 
 
 " In about seven months." 
 
 " O, thin, that puts the wig an it at wanst. I dar* n't 
 go at all." 
 
 " Why, seven months are not long passing." 
 
 " Thrue for you, in throth," said Barny, with a shrug 
 of his shoulders. " Tail, it 's myself knows, to my sor- 
 row, the half year comes round mighty suddint, and the 
 lord's agint comes for the thrifle o' rent." 
 
 " Then what 's your objection, as to the time ? " 
 asked the captain. 
 
 " Arrah, sure, sir, what would the woman that owns 
 me do while I was away ? and maybe it 's break her heart 
 the craythur would, thinking I was lost intirely ; and 
 who 'd be at home to take care o' the childher' and aim 
 thim the bit and the sup, whin I 'd be away ? and who 
 knows but it 's all dead they 'd be afore I got back ? 
 Och hone ! sure the heart id fairly break in my body, 
 if hurt or harm kem to them, through me. So, say no 
 more, Captain dear, only give me a thrifle o' directions 
 how I 'm to make an offer at gettin' home, and it 's my- 
 self that will pray for you night, noon, and mornin' for 
 that same." 
 
 " Well, Paddy," said the captain, " as you are deter- 
 mined to go back, in spite of all I can say, you must 
 attend to me well while I give you as simple instructions 
 as I can. You say you know the four -points of the 
 wind, north, south, east, and west." 
 
 2* O
 
 54 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " How do you know them ? for I must see that you 
 are not likely to make a mistake. How do you know 
 the points ? " 
 
 " Why, you see, sir, the sun, God bless it, rises in the 
 aist, and sets in the west, which stands to raison ; and 
 whin you stand bechuxt the aist and the west, the north 
 is forninst you." 
 
 " And when the north is fornenst you, as you say, is 
 the east on your right or your left hand ? " 
 
 " On the right hand, your honor." 
 
 " Well, I see you know that much, however. Now," 
 said the captain, "the moment you leave the ship, you 
 must steer a northeast course, and you will make some 
 land near home in about a week, if the wind holds as it 
 is now, and it is likely to do so ; but, mind me, if you 
 turn out of your course in the smallest degree you are a 
 lost man." 
 
 " Many thanks to your honor ! " 
 
 " And how are you off for provisions ? " 
 
 " Why, thin, indeed, in the regard o' that same we are 
 in the hoighth o' distress, for exceptin' the scalpeens, 
 sorra taste passed our lips for these four days." 
 
 " O, you poor devils ! " said the commander, in a 
 tone of sincere commiseration, " I '11 order you some 
 provisions on board before you start." 
 
 " Long life to your honor ! and I 'd like to drink the 
 health of so noble a gintleman." 
 
 " I understand you, Paddy, you shall have grog 
 too." 
 
 " Musha, the heavens shower blessin's an you, I pray
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 35 
 
 the Virgin Mary and the twelve apostles, Matthew, 
 Mark, Luke, and John, not forgettin' Saint Pathrick." 
 
 " Thank you, Paddy ; but keep your prayers for 
 yourself, for you need them all to help you home 
 again." 
 
 " Oh ! never fear, when the thing is to be done, I '11 
 do it, by dad, wid a heart and a half. And sure, your 
 honor, God is good, an' will mind dessolute craythurs 
 like uz on the wild oceant as well as ashore." 
 
 While some of the ship's crew were putting the cap- 
 tain's benevolent intentions to Barny and his compan- 
 ions into practice, by transferring some provisions to the 
 hooker, the commander entertained himself by further 
 conversation with Barny, who was the greatest original 
 he had ever met. In the course of their colloquy, 
 Barny drove many hard queries at the captain, re- 
 specting the wonders of the nautical profession, and at 
 last put the question to him plump : 
 
 " Oh ! thin, Captain dear, and how is it at all at all, 
 that you make your way over the wide says intirely to 
 them furrin parts ? " 
 
 " You would not understand, Paddy, if I attempted to 
 explain to you." 
 
 "Sure enough, indeed, your honor, and I ask your 
 pardon, only I was curious to know, and sure no 
 wondher." 
 
 " It requires various branches of knowledge to make 
 a navigator." 
 
 " Branches," said Barny, " by gar I think it id take 
 the whole tree o' knowledge to make it out. And that 
 place you are going to, sir, that ingal (oh ! bad luck
 
 36 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 to it for a Singsl, it 's the sore -Z?z'gal to me), is it so 
 far off as you say P " 
 
 " Yes, Paddy, half round the world." 
 
 " Is it round in airnest, Captain dear ? Round about ! " 
 
 "Aye, indeed." 
 
 " O, thin, ar' n't you afeard that whin you come to the 
 top and that you 're obleedged to go down, that you 'd 
 go slidderhin away intirely, and never be able to stop, 
 maybe. It's bad enough, so it is, going down hill by 
 land, but it must be the dickens all out by wather." 
 
 "But there is no hill, Paddy; don't you know that 
 water is always level ? " 
 
 " By dad, it 's \erjjlat anyhow, and by the same token 
 it 's seldom I throuble it ; but sure, your honor, if the 
 wather is level, how do you make out that it is round 
 you go ? " 
 
 " That is a part of the knowledge I was speaking to 
 you about," said the captain. 
 
 " Musha, bad luck to you, knowledge, but you 're a 
 quare thing ! and where is it Bingal, bad cess to it, 
 would be at all at all ? " 
 
 "In the East Indies." 
 
 " O, that is where they make the tay, is n't it, sir ? " 
 
 " No, where the tea grows is further still." 
 
 "Further! why that must be the ind of the world 
 intirely ; and they don't make it, thin, sir, but it grows, 
 you tell me." 
 
 "Yes, Paddy." 
 
 " Is it like hay, your honor ? " 
 
 " Not exactly, Paddy ; what puts hay in your head ? " 
 
 " Oh ! only bekase I hear them call it
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 37 
 
 " A most logical deduction, Paddy." 
 
 " And is it a great deal farther, your honor, the tay 
 country is ? " 
 
 "Yes, Paddy, China it is called." 
 
 " That 's, I suppose, what we call Chaynee, sir ? " 
 
 "Exactly, Paddy." 
 
 " By dad, I never could come at it rightly before, why 
 it was nathral to drink tay out o' chaynee. I ax your 
 honor's pardon for bein' troublesome, but I hard tell 
 from the long sailor, iv a place they call Japan, in them 
 furrin parts, and is it there, your honor ? " 
 
 "Quite true, Paddy." 
 
 " And I suppose it 's there the blackin' comes from." 
 
 "No, Paddy, you are out there." 
 
 " well, I thought it stood to rayson, as I heerd of 
 Japan blackin', sir, that it would be there it kern from ; 
 besides, as the blacks themselves, the naygers, I 
 mane, is in them parts." 
 
 "The negroes are in Africa, Paddy, much nearer to 
 us." 
 
 "God betune us and harm. I hope I would not be 
 too near them," said Barny. 
 
 " Why, what 's your objection ? " 
 
 " Arrah sure, sir, they 're hardly mortials at all, but 
 has the mark o' the bastes an thim." 
 
 " How do you make out that, Paddy ? " 
 
 "Why sure, sir, and didn't Natur make thim wid 
 wool on their heads, plainly makin* it undherstood to 
 Chrishthans, that they were little more nor cattle?" 
 
 " I think your head is a wool-gathering now, Paddy," 
 said the captain, laughing.
 
 38 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 "Faix, maybe so, indeed," answered Barny, good- 
 humoredly, " but it 's seldom I ever went out to look 
 for wool and kern home shorn, anyhow," said he, with a 
 look of triumph. 
 
 "Well, you won't have that to say for the future, 
 Paddy," said the captain, laughing again. 
 
 " My name 's not Paddy, your honor," said Barny, 
 returning the laugh, but seizing the opportunity to turn 
 the joke aside, that was going against him ; " my name 
 is n't Paddy, sir, but Barny." 
 
 " O, if it was Solomon, you '11 be bare enough when 
 you go home this time; you have not gathered much 
 this trip, Barny." 
 
 " Sure, I 've been gathering knowledge, anyhow, your 
 honor," said Barny, with a significant look at the cap- 
 tain, and a complimentary tip of his hand to his caubeen, 
 " and God bless you for being so good to me." 
 
 " And what 's your name besides Barny ? " asked the 
 captain. 
 
 " O'Reirdon, your honor, Barny O'Reirdon 's my 
 name." 
 
 "Well, Barny O'Reirdon, I won't forget your name 
 nor yourself in a hurry, for you are certainly the most 
 original navigator I ever had the honor of being ac- 
 quainted with." 
 
 "Well," said Barny, with a triumphant toss of his 
 head, "I have done Terry O'Sullivan, at any rate, the 
 devil a half so far he ever was, and that 's a comfort. 
 I have muzzled his clack for the rest iv his life, and he 
 won't be comin' over us wid the ^pride iv his JFVVtgal 
 while I 'm to the fore, that was a'most at Bixgal ! "
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 39 
 
 " Terry O'Sullivan, who is he, pray ? " said the cap- 
 tain. 
 
 " 0, he 's a scut iv a chap that 's not worth your axin' 
 for, he 's not worth your honor's notice, a braggin' 
 poor craythur. 0, wait till I get home, and the devil a 
 more braggin' they '11 hear out of his jaw." 
 
 " Indeed then, Barny, the sooner you turn your face 
 toward home the better," said the captain : " since you 
 will go, there is no need of your losing more time." 
 
 " Thrue for you, your honor, and sure it 's well for 
 me I had the luck to meet with the likes o' your honor, 
 that explained the ins and the outs iv it, to me, and laid 
 it all down as plain as prent." 
 
 "Are you sure you remember my directions?" said 
 the captain. 
 
 " Troth an I '11 niver forget them to the day o' my 
 death, and is bound to pray, more betoken, for you and 
 yours." 
 
 " Don't mind praying for me till you get home, Barny ; 
 but answer me, how are you to steer when you shall leave 
 me?" 
 
 " The nor-aist coorse, your honor, that 's the coorse 
 agin the world." 
 
 "Remember that! Never alter that course till you 
 see land, let nothing make you turn out of a northeast 
 course." 
 
 " Throth an' that would be the dirty turn, seein' that 
 it was yourself that ordhered it. O no, L'll depend my 
 life an the nor-aist coorse, and God help any that comes 
 betune me an' it,* I'd run him down if he was my 
 father."
 
 40 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " Well, good by, Barny." 
 
 " Good by, and God bless you, your honor, and send 
 you safe." 
 
 " That 's a wish you want for yourself, Barny, never 
 fear for me, but mind yourself well." 
 
 " 0, sure, I 'm as good as at home wanst I know the 
 way, barrin' the wind is conthrary; sure the nor-aist 
 coorse '11 do the business complate. Good by, your 
 honor, and long life to you, and more power to your 
 elbow, and a light heart and a heavy purse to you ever- 
 more, I pray the blessed Virgin and all the saints, 
 amin ! " And so saying, Barny descended the ship's 
 side, and once more assumed the helm of the "hardy 
 hooker." 
 
 The two vessels now separated on their opposite 
 courses. What a contrast their relative situations af- 
 forded ! Proudly the ship bore away under her lofty 
 and spreading canvas, cleaving the billows before her, 
 manned by an able crew, and under the guidance of 
 experienced officers; the finger of science to point the 
 course of her progress, the faithful chart to warn of 
 the hidden rock and the shoal, the long line and the 
 quadrant to measure her march and prove her position. 
 The poor little hooker cleft not the billows, each wave 
 lifted her on its crest like a sea-bird ; but the three in- 
 experienced fishermen to manage her ; no certain means 
 to guide them over the vast ocean they had to traverse, 
 and the holding of the " fickle wind " the only chance 
 of their escape from perishing in the wilderness of wa- 
 ters. By the one, the feeling excited is supremely that 
 of man's power. By the other, of his utter helplessness.
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 41 
 
 To the one, the expanse of ocean could scarcely be 
 considered "trackless." To the other, it was a waste 
 indeed. 
 
 Yet the cheer that burst from the ship, at parting, was 
 answered as gayly from the hooker as though the odds 
 had not been so fearfully against her, and no blither 
 heart beat on board the ship than that of Barny O'Reir- 
 don. 
 
 Happy light-heartedness of my countrymen! How 
 kindly have they been fortified by nature against the 
 assaults of adversity; and if they blindly rush into 
 dangers, they cannot be denied the possession of gal- 
 lant hearts to fight their way out of them. 
 
 But each hurrah became less audible ; by degrees the 
 cheers dwindled into faintness, and finally were lost in 
 the eddies of the breeze. 
 
 The first feeling of loneliness that poor Barny expe- 
 rienced was when he could no longer hear the exhil- 
 arating sound. The plash of the surge, as it broke on 
 the bows of his little boat, was uninterrupted by the 
 kindred sound of human voice ; and, as it fell upon his 
 ear, it smote upon his heart. But he replied, waved his 
 hat, and the silent signal was answered from those on 
 board the ship. 
 
 "Well, Barny," said Jemmy, "what was the captain 
 sayin' to you at the time you wor wid him ? " 
 
 "Lay me alone," said Barny, "I'll talk to you when 
 I see her out o' sight, but not a word till thin. I '11 
 look afther him, the rale gintleman that he is, while 
 there 's a topsail of his ship to be seen, and then I '11 
 send my blessin' afther him, and pray for his good for-
 
 42 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 tune wherever he goes, for he 's the right sort and 
 nothin' else." And Barny kept his word, and when his 
 straining eye could no longer trace a line of the ship, 
 the captain certainly had the benefit of "a poor man's 
 blessing." 
 
 The sense of utter loneliness and desolation had not 
 come upon Barny until now; but he put his trust in 
 the goodness of Providence, and in a fervent mental 
 outpouring of prayer resigned himself to the care of 
 his Creator. With an admirable fortitude, too, he as- 
 sumed a composure to his companions that was a stran- 
 ger to his heart; and we all know how the burden of 
 anxiety is increased when we have none with whom to 
 sympathize. And this was not all. He had to affect 
 ease and confidence, for Barny not only had no depend- 
 ence on the firmness of his companions to go through 
 the undertaking before them, but dreaded to betray to 
 them how he had imposed on them in the affair. Barny 
 was equal to all this. He had a stout heart, and was 
 an admirable actor ; yet, for the first hour after the ship 
 was out of sight, he could not quite recover himself, and 
 every now and then, unconsciously, he would look back 
 with a wishful eye to the point where last he saw her. 
 Poor Barny had lost his leader. 
 
 The night fell, and Barny stuck to the helm as long 
 as nature could sustain want of rest, and then left it in 
 charge of one of his companions, with particular direc- 
 tions how to steer, and ordered, if any change in the 
 wind occurred, that they should instantly awake him. 
 He could not sleep long, however ; the fever of anxiety 
 was upon him, and the morning had not long dawned
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 43 
 
 when he awoke. He had not well rubbed his eyes and 
 looked about him, when he thought he saw a ship in the 
 distance approaching them. As the haze cleared away, 
 she showed distinctly bearing down toward the hooker. 
 On board the ship, the hooker, in such a sea, caused sur- 
 prise as before, and in about an hour she was so close as 
 to hail, and order the hooker to run under her lee. 
 
 " The devil a taste," said Barny. " I '11 not quit my 
 nor-aist coarse for the king of Ingland, nor Bonyparty 
 into the bargain. Bad cess to you, do you think I 've 
 nothin' to do but plaze you ? " 
 
 Again he was hailed. 
 
 " Oh ! bad luck to the toe I '11 go to you." 
 
 Another hail. 
 
 " Spake loudher you 'd betther," said Barny, jeeringly, 
 still holding on his course. 
 
 A gun was fired ahead of him. 
 
 "By my sowl you spoke loudher that time, sure 
 enough," said Barny. 
 
 " Take care, Barny," cried Jemmy and Peter together. 
 " Blur-an-agers, man, we '11 be kilt if you don't go to 
 them." 
 
 " Well, and we '11 be lost if we turn out iv our nor- 
 aist coorse, and that 's as broad as it 's long. Let them 
 bit iz if they like ; sure it ud be a pleasanter death nor 
 starvin' at say. I tell you agin I '11 turn out o' my nor- 
 aist coorse for no man." 
 
 A shotted gun was fired. The shot hopped on the 
 water as it passed before the hooker. 
 
 " Phew ! you missed it, like your mammy's blessin'," 
 said Barny.
 
 44 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " O murther ! " said Jemmy, " did n't you see the ball 
 hop aff the wather forninst you. O murther, what 'ud 
 we ha' done if we wor there at all at all ? " 
 
 " Why, we 'd have taken the ball at the hop," said 
 Barny, laughing, "accordin' to the ould sayin'." 
 
 Another shot was ineffectually fired. 
 
 " I 'm thinking that 's a Connaughtman that 's shoot- 
 in'," said Barny, with a sneer.* The allusion was so 
 relished by Jemmy and Peter, that it excited a smile in 
 the midst of their fears from the cannonade. 
 
 Again the report of the gun was followed by no dam- 
 age. 
 
 "Augh! never heed them!" said Barny, contempt- 
 uously. " ' It 's a barkin' dog that never bites,' as the 
 owld sayin' says." And the hooker was soon out of 
 reach of further annoyance. 
 
 " Now, what a pity it was, to be sure," said Barny, 
 " that I would n't go aboord to plaze them. Now who 's 
 right ? Ah, lave me alone always, Jimmy ; did you iver 
 know me wrong yet ? " 
 
 " O, you may hillow now that you are out o' the wood, 
 said Jemmy, " but, accordin' to my idays, it was rurinin' 
 a grate risk to be conthrary wid them at all, and they 
 shootin' balls afther us." 
 
 " Well, what matther ? " said Barny, " since they wor 
 only blind gunners, an' I knew it ; besides, as I said 
 afore, I won't turn out o' my nor-aist coarse for no 
 man." 
 
 * This is an allusion of Barny's to a prevalent saying in 
 Ireland, addressed to a sportsman who returns home unsuc- 
 cessful, " So you 've killed what the Counaughtman shot at."
 
 BAENY O'EEIEDON THE NAVIGATOE. 45 
 
 " That 's a new turn you tuk lately," said Peter. 
 " What 's the raison you 're runnin' a nor-aist coorse 
 now, an 5 we never hear'd iv it afore at all, till afther 
 you quitted the big ship ? " 
 
 " Why, thin, are you sich an ignoramus all out," said 
 Barny, " as not for to know that in navigation you must 
 lie an a great many different tacks before you can make 
 the port you steer for ? " 
 
 " Only I think," said Jemmy, " that it 's back intirely 
 we 're goin' now, and I can't make out the rights o' that 
 at all." 
 
 "Why," said Barny, who saw the necessity of mys- 
 tifying his companions a little, "you see, the captain 
 towld me that I kum around, an' rekimminded me to 
 go th' other way." 
 
 " Faix, it 's the first time I ever heard o' goin' round 
 by say," said Jemmy. 
 
 " Arrah, sure, that 's part o' the saycrets o' naviga- 
 tion, and the varrious branches o' knowledge that is 
 requizit for a navigator ; and that 's what the captain, 
 God bless him, and myself was discoorsin' an aboord; 
 and, like a rale gintleman as he is, Barny, says he ; Sir, 
 says I ; you 've come the round, says he. I know that, 
 says I, bekase I like to keep a good bowld offin', says I, 
 in contrairy places. Spoke like a good sayman, says he. 
 That 's my principles, says I. They 're the right sort, 
 says he. But, says he (no offence), I think you wor 
 wrong, says he, to pass the short turn in the ladie- 
 shoes,* says he. I know, says I, you mane beside the 
 
 * Some offer Barny is making at latitudes.
 
 46 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 three-spike headlan'. That 's the spot, says he, I see 
 you know it. As well as I know my father, says I." 
 
 "Why, Barny," said Jemmy, interrupting him, "we 
 seen no headlan' at all." 
 
 " Whisht, whisht ! " said Baruy, " bad cess to you, 
 don't thwart me. We passed it in the night, and you 
 couldn't see it. Well, as I was saying, I knew it as 
 well as I know my father, says I, but I gev the prefer- 
 ence to go the round, says I. You 're a good sayman 
 for that same, says he, an' it would be right at any other 
 time than this present, says he, but it 's onpossible now, 
 tee-totally, on account o' the war, says he. Tare alive, 
 says I, what war? An' didn't you hear o' the war? 
 says he. Divil a word, says I. Why, says he, the nay- 
 gers has made war on the king o' Chaynee, says he, be- 
 kase he refused them any more tay ; an' with that, what 
 did they do, says he, but they put a lumbargo on all the 
 vessels that sails the round, an' that 's the rayson, says 
 he, I carry guns, as you may see ; and I rekimmind you, 
 says he, to go back, for you 're not able for thim, and 
 that 's jist the way iv it. An' now, was n't it looky that 
 I kern acrass him at all, or maybe we might be cotch by 
 the naygers, and ate up alive." 
 
 " 0, thin, indeed, and that 's thrue," said Jemmy and 
 Peter, " and whin will we come to the short turn ? " 
 
 " 0, never mind," said Barny, " you '11 see it when 
 you get there ; but wait till I tell you more about the 
 captain, and the big ship. He said, you know, that he 
 carried guns afeard o' the naygers, and in troth it 's the 
 hoight o' care he takes o' them same guns ; and small 
 blame to him, sure they might be the salvation of him.
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 47 
 
 Ton my conscience, they 're taken betther care of than 
 any poor man's child. I heerd him cautionin' the sail- 
 ors about them, and givin' them ordhers about their 
 clothes." 
 
 " Their clothes ! " said his two companions at once, in 
 much surprise ; " is it clothes upon cannons ? " 
 
 " It 's thruth I 'm tellin' you," said Barny. " Bad 
 luck to the lie in it, he was talkin' about their aprons 
 and their breeches." 
 
 " O, think o' that ! " said Jemmy and Peter, in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " An' 't was all iv a piece," said Barny, " that an' the 
 rest o' the ship all out. She was as nate as a new pin. 
 Throth, I was a'most ashamed to put my fut on the 
 deck, it was so clane, and she painted every color in 
 the rainbow ; and all sorts o' curiosities about her ; 
 and instead iv a tiller to steer her, like this darlin' 
 craythur iv ours, she goes wid a wheel, like a coach all 
 as one ; and there 's the quarest thing you iver seen, to 
 show the way, as the captain gev me to understan', a 
 little round rowly-powly thing in a bowl, that goes wad- 
 dlin' about as if it didn't know its own way, much 
 more nor show anybody theirs. Throth, myself thought 
 that if that 's the way they 're obliged to go, that it 's 
 with a great deal of fear and thrimblin' they find it out." 
 
 Thus it was that Barny continued most marvellous 
 accounts of the ship and the captain to his companions, 
 and by keeping their attention so engaged, prevented 
 their being too inquisitive as to their own immediate 
 concerns, and for two days more Barny and the hooker 
 held on their respective courses undeviatingly. .
 
 48 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 The third day Barny's fears for the continuity of Ms 
 nor-aist coarse were excited, as a large brig hove in 
 sight, and the nearer she approached, the more di- 
 rectly she appeared to be coming athwart Barny's 
 course. 
 
 " May the divil sweep you," said Barny, " and will 
 nothin' else sarve you than comin' forninst me that 
 away ? Brig-a-hoy there ! " shouted Barny, giving the 
 tiller to one of his messmates, and standing at the bow of 
 bis boat. "Brig-a-hoy there ! bad luck to- you, go 'long 
 out o' my nor-aist coorse." The brig, instead of obey- 
 ing him, hove to, and lay right ahead of the hooker. 
 " O, look at this ! " shouted Barny, and he stamped on 
 the deck with rage, " look at the blackguards where 
 they're stayin', just a-purpose to ruin an unfortunate 
 man like me. My heavy hathred to you, quit this 
 minit, or I'll run down an yes, and if we go to the 
 bottom, we '11 haunt you forevennore, go 'long out o' 
 that, I tell you. The curse o' Crummil on you, you 
 stupid vagabones, that won't go out iv a man's nor- 
 aist coorse ! " 
 
 From cursing Barny went to praying as he came 
 closer. " For the tendher marcy o' heaven an' lave my 
 way. May the Lord reward you, and get out o' my nor- 
 aist coorse ! May angels make your bed in heavin and 
 don't ruinate me this a way." The brig was immovable, 
 and Barny finished with a duet volley of prayers and 
 curses together, apostrophizing the hard case of a man 
 being " done out o' his nor-aist coorse." 
 
 " A-hoy there ! " shouted a voice from the brig, " put 
 down your helm or you '11 be aboard of us. I say, let
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 49 
 
 go your jib and foresheet, what are you about, you 
 lubbers ? " 
 
 'T was true that the brig lay so fair in Barny's course, 
 that he would have been aboard, but that instantly the 
 manoeuvre above alluded to was put in practice on board 
 the hooker; as she swept to destruction toward the 
 heavy hull of the brig, he luffed up into the wind along- 
 side her. A very pale and somewhat emaciated face 
 appeared at the side, and addressed Barny. 
 
 " What brings you here ? " was the question. 
 
 " Throth, thin, and I think I might betther ax what 
 brings you here, right in the way o' my nor-aist coorse." 
 
 " Where do you come from ? " 
 
 " From Kinsale ; and you did n't come from a betther 
 place, I go bail." 
 
 " Where are you bound to ? " 
 
 "To Fingal." 
 
 " Fingal, where 's Fingal ? " 
 
 " Why then, ain't you ashamed o' yourself an' not to 
 know where Fingal is ? " 
 
 " It is not in these seas." 
 
 " O, and that 's all you know about it," says Barny. 
 
 " You 're a small craft to be so far at sea. I suppose 
 you have provisions on board ? " 
 
 " To be sure we have ; throth if we had n't, this id be 
 a bad place to go a beggin'." 
 
 " What have you eatable ? " 
 
 " The finest o' scalpeens." 
 
 " What are scalpeens ? " 
 
 " Why, you 're mighty ignorant intirely," said Barny ; 
 "why, scalpeens is pickled mackerel."
 
 50 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " Then you must give us some, for we have been out 
 of everything eatable these three days ; and even pickled 
 fish is better than nothing." 
 
 It chanced that the brig was a West India trader, 
 which unfavorable winds had delayed much beyond the 
 expected period of time on her voyage, and though her 
 water had not failed, everything eatable had been con- 
 sumed, and the crew reduced almost to helplessness. In 
 such a strait the arrival of Barny O'Reirdon and his 
 scalpeens was a most providential succor to them, and 
 a lucky chance for Barny, for he got in exchange for his 
 pickled fish a handsome return of rum and sugar, much 
 more than equivalent to their value. Barny lamented 
 much, however, that the brig was not bound for Ire- 
 land, that he might practice his own peculiar system of 
 navigation ; but as staying with the brig could do no 
 good, he got himself put into his nor-aist coarse once 
 more, and ploughed away toward home. 
 
 The disposal of his cargo was a great godsend to 
 Barny in more ways than one. In the first place, he 
 found the most profitable market he could have had; 
 and, secondly, it enabled him to cover his retreat from 
 the difficulty which still was before him of not getting 
 to Fingal after all his dangers, and consequently being 
 open to discovery and disgrace. All these beneficial 
 results were thrown away upon one of Barny's readi- 
 ness to avail himself of every point in his favor : and, 
 accordingly, when they left the brig, Barny said to his 
 companions, " Why, thin, boys, 'pon my conscience, but 
 I 'm as proud as a horse wid a wooden leg this minit, 
 that we met them poor unfort'nate craythers this
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 51 
 
 blessed day, and was enabled to extind our charity to 
 them. Sure, an' it 's lost they 'd be only for our comin' 
 acrass them, and we, through the blessin' o' God, en- 
 abled to do an act o' marcy, that is, feedin' the hungry ; 
 and sure every good work we do here is before uz in 
 heaven, and that 's a comfort anyhow. To be sure, 
 now that the scalpeens is sowld, there 's no use in 
 goin' to Fingal, and we may as well jist go home." 
 
 " Faix, I 'm sorry myself," said Jemmy, " for Terry 
 O'Sullivan said it was an iligaut place intirely, an.' I 
 wanted to see it." 
 
 " To the divil wid Terry O'Sullivan," said Barny ; 
 " how does he know what 's an iligant place ? What 
 knowledge has he of iligance ! I '11 go bail he never was 
 half as far a navigatin' as we, he wint the short cut, 
 I go bail, and never dar'd for to vinture the round, as 
 I did." 
 
 " By dad, we wor a great dale longer anyhow than he 
 towld me he was." 
 
 " To be sure we wor," said Barny ; " he wint 
 skulkin' in by the short cut, I tell you, and was afeard 
 to keep a bowld offin' like me. But come, boys, let uz 
 take a dhrop o' the bottle o' sper'ts we got out o' the 
 brig. By gor, it 's well we got some bottles iv it ; for I 
 would n't much like to meddle wid that darlint little kag 
 iv it antil we get home." The rum was put on its trial 
 by Barny and his companions, and in their critical judg- 
 ment was pronounced quite as good as the captain of 
 the ship had bestowed upon them, but that neither of 
 those specimens of spirit was to be compared to whiskey. 
 " By dad," says Barny, " they may rack their brains a
 
 52 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 long time before they '11 make out a purtier invintion 
 than potteen, that rum may do very well for thim 
 that has the misforthin' not to know betther ; but the 
 whiskey is a more nathral sper't accordin' to my idays." 
 In this, as in most other of Barny's opinions, Peter and 
 Jemmy coincided. 
 
 Nothing particular occurred for the two succeeding 
 days, during which time Barny most religiously pursued 
 his nor-aist coarse, but the third day produced a new and 
 important event. A sail was discovered on the horizon, 
 and in the direction Barny was steering, and a couple 
 of hours made him tolerably certain that the vessel in 
 sight was an American, for though it is needless to say 
 that he was not very conversant in such matters, yet 
 from the frequency of his seeing Americans trading to 
 Ireland, his eye had become sufficiently accustomed to 
 their lofty and tapering spars, and peculiar smartness 
 of rig, to satisfy him that the ship before him was of 
 transatlantic build; nor was he wrong in his conjec- 
 ture. 
 
 Barny now determined on a manoeuvre, classing him 
 among the first tacticians at securing a good retreat. 
 
 Moreau's highest fame rests upon his celebrated ret- 
 rograde movement through the Black Forest. 
 
 Xenophon's greatest glory is derived from the deliver- 
 ance of his ten thousand Greeks from impending ruin by 
 his renowned retreat. 
 
 Let the ancient and the modern hero " repose under 
 the shadow of their laurels," as the French have it, 
 while Barny O'Reirdon's historian, with a pardonable 
 jealousy for the honor of his country, cuts down a
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 53 
 
 goodly bough of the classic tree, beneath which our 
 Hibernian hero may enjoy his otium cum dignitate. 
 
 Barny calculated the American was bound for Ireland, 
 and as she lay almost as directly in the way of his " nor- 
 aist coorse " as the West-Indian brig, he bore up to and 
 spoke her. 
 
 He was answered by a shrewd Yankee captain. 
 
 " Faix, an' it 's glad I am to see your honor again," 
 said Barny. 
 
 The Yankee had never been to Ireland, and told 
 Barny so. 
 
 " O, throth, I could n't forget a gintleman so aisy as 
 that," said Barny. 
 
 " You 're pretty considerably mistaken now, I guess," 
 said the American. 
 
 "Divil a taste," said Barny, with inimitable compo- 
 sure and pertinacity. 
 
 " Well, if you know me so tarnation well, tell me 
 what 's my name." The Yankee nattered himself he 
 had nailed Barny now. 
 
 " Your name, is it ? " said Barny, gaining time by 
 repeating the question ; " why, what a fool you are not 
 to know your own name." 
 
 The oddity of the answer posed the American, and 
 Barny took advantage of the diversion in his favor, and 
 changed the conversation. 
 
 "By dad, I've been waitin' here these four or five 
 days, expectin' some of you would be wantin' me." 
 
 " Some of us ! How do you mean ? " 
 
 " Sure, an' ar' n't you from Amerikay ? " 
 
 Yes ; and what then ? "
 
 54 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " Well, I say I was waitin' for some ship or other 
 from Amerikay, that ud be wantin' me. It 's to Ireland 
 you 're goin' ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, I suppose you'll be wantin' a pilot," said Barny. 
 
 " Yes, when we get in shore, but not yet." 
 
 " O, I don't want to hurry you," said Barny. 
 
 " What port are you a pilot of ? " 
 
 " Why, indeed, as for the matther o' that," said Barny, 
 "they're all aiqual to me a'most." 
 
 " All ? " said the American. " Why, I calculate you 
 could n't pilot a ship into all the ports of Ireland." 
 
 " Not all at wanst," said Barny, with a laugh, in which 
 the American could not help joining. 
 
 " Well, I say, what ports do you know best ? " 
 
 " Why, thin, indeed," said Barny, " it would be hard 
 for me to tell ; but wherever you want to go, I 'm the 
 man that '11 do the job for you complate. Where is your 
 honor goin' ? " 
 
 "I won't tell you that, but do you tell me what 
 ports you know best ? " 
 
 " Why, there 's Watherford, and there 's Youghal, an' 
 Fingal." 
 
 " Fingal, where 's that P " 
 
 " So you don't know where Fingal is. O, I see you 're 
 a sthranger, sir, an' then there 's Cork." 
 
 " You know Cove, then ? " 
 
 " Is it the Cove o' Cork?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I was bred and born there, and pilots as many ships 
 into Cove as any other two min out of it."
 
 BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 55 
 
 Barny thus sheltered his falsehood under the idiom of 
 his language. 
 
 " But what brought you so far out to sea ? " asked 
 the captain. 
 
 "We wor lyin' out lookin' for ships that wanted 
 pilots, and there kem an the terriblest gale o' wind aff 
 the land, an' blew us to say out intirely, an' that 's the 
 way iv it, your honor." 
 
 " I calculate we got a share of the same gale ; 't was 
 from the nor-east." 
 
 " O, directly ! " said Barny, " faith, you 're right 
 enough. 'T was the nor-aist coorse we wor an sure 
 enough ; but no matther now that we 've met wid you, 
 sure we'll have a job home anyhow." 
 
 " Well, get aboard then," said the American. 
 
 " I will, in a minit, your honor, whin I jist spake a 
 word to my comrades here." 
 
 " Why, sure it 's not goin' to turn pilot you are," said 
 Jemmy, in his simplicity of heart. 
 
 " Whisht, you omadhaun ! " said Barny, " or I '11 cut 
 the tongue out o' you. Now mind me, Pether. You 
 don't undherstan' navigashin and the varrious branches 
 o' knowledge, an' so all you have to do is to folly the 
 ship when I get into her, an' I'll show you the way 
 home." 
 
 Baruy then got aboard the American vessel, and 
 begged of the captain, that as he had been out at sea 
 so long, and had gone through "a power o' hardship 
 intirely," he would be permitted to go below and turn 
 in to take a sleep, " for in throth it 's myself and sleep 
 that is sthrayugers for some time," said Baruy, " an' if
 
 56 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 your honor '11 be plazed I '11 be thankful if you -won't 
 let them disturb me antil I 'm wanted, for sure till you 
 see the land there 's no use for me in life, an' throth I 
 want a sleep sorely." 
 
 Barny's request was granted, and it will not be won- 
 dered at, that after so much fatigue of mind and body, 
 he slept profoundly for four-and-twenty hours. He then 
 was called, for land was in sight, and when he came on 
 deck the captain rallied him upon the potency of his 
 somniferous qualities, and " calculated " he had never 
 met any one who could sleep "four-and-twenty hours 
 at a stretch before." 
 
 "O sir," said Barny, rubbing his eyes, which were 
 still a little hazy, " whiniver I go to sleep I pay attin- 
 tion to it." 
 
 The land was soon neared, and Barny put in charge 
 of the ship, when he ascertained the first landmark he 
 was acquainted with ; but as soon as the Head of Kin- 
 sale hove in sight, Barny gave a "whoo," and cut a 
 caper that astonished the Yankees, and was quite inex- 
 plicable to them, though, I natter myself, it is not to 
 those who do Barny the favor of reading his adven- 
 tures. 
 
 " O, there you are, my darlint ould head ! An' 
 where 's the head like o' you ? Throth, it 's little I 
 thought I'd ever set eyes an your good-looking fay- 
 tures agin. But God 's good ! " 
 
 In such half-muttered exclamations, did Barny apos- 
 trophize each well-known point of his native shore, and 
 when opposite the harbor of Kinsale, he spoke the 
 hooker that was somewhat astern, and ordered Jemmj
 
 BAENY O'EEIRDON THE NAVIGATOR. 57 
 
 and Peter to put in there, and tell Molly immediately 
 that he was come back, and would be with her as soon 
 as he could, after piloting the ship into Cove. "But 
 an your apperl don't tell Pether Kelly o' the big farm, 
 nor, indeed, don't mintion to man or mortial about the 
 navigation we done antil I come home myself and make 
 them sensible o' it, bekase, Jemmy and Pether, neither o' 
 yiz is aqual to it, and does n't undherstan' the branches 
 o' knowledge requizit for discoorsin' o' navigation." 
 
 The hooker put into Kinsale, and Barny sailed the 
 ship into Cove. It was the first ship he ever had acted 
 the pilot for, and his old luck attended him ; no accident 
 befell his charge, and, what was still more extraordinary, 
 he made the American believe he was absolutely the 
 most skilful pilot on the station. So Barny pocketed his 
 pilot's fee, swore the Yankee was a gentleman, for which 
 the republican did not thank him, wished him good by, 
 and then pushed his way home with what Barny swore 
 was the aisiest-made money he ever had in his life. So 
 Barny got himself paid for piloting the ship that showed 
 him the way home. 
 
 3*
 
 TTADDAD-BEN-AHAB THE TRAVELLER. 
 
 BY JOHN GALT. 
 
 JIADDAD-BEN-AHAB was a very wise man, 
 and he had several friends, men of discernment, 
 and partakers of the wisdom of ages ; but they 
 were not all so wise as Haddad-Ben-Ahab. His sen- 
 tences were short, but his knowledge was long, and 
 what he predicted generally came to pass, for he did not 
 pretend to the gift of prophecy. The utmost he ever 
 said in that way was, that he expected the sun to rise 
 to-morrow, and that old age was the shadow of youth. 
 
 Besides being of a grave temperament, Haddad-Ben- 
 Ahab was inclined to obesity ; he was kindly and good- 
 natured to the whole human race ; he even carried his 
 benevolence to the inferior creation, and often patted 
 his dogs on the head and gave them bones; but cats 
 he could not abide. Had he been a rat he could not 
 have regarded them with more antipathy ; and yet Had- 
 dad-Ben-Ahab was an excellent man, who smoked his 
 chibouque with occasional cups of coffee and sherbet, 
 interspersed with profound aphorisms on the condition 
 of man, and conjectures on the delights of paradise.
 
 HADDAD-BEN-AHAB THE TRAVELLER. 59 
 
 With his friends he passed many sunbright hours; 
 and if much talk was not heard among them on these 
 occasions, be it remembered that silence is often wisdom. 
 The scene of their social resort was a little kiosk in front 
 of one of the coffee-houses on the bank of the Tigris. 
 No place in all Bagdad is so pleasantly situated. There 
 the mighty river rolls in all the affluence of his waters, 
 pure as the unclouded sky, and speckled with innumera- 
 ble boats, while the rippling waves, tickled, as it were, 
 by the summer breezes, gambol and sparkle around. 
 
 The kiosk was raised two steps from the ground ; the 
 interior was painted with all the most splendid colors. 
 The roof was covered with tiles that glittered like the 
 skin of the Arabian serpent, and was surmounted with 
 a green dragon, which was painted of that imperial hue, 
 because Haddad-Ben-Ahab was descended from the sa- 
 cred progeny of Fatima, of whom green is the everlast- 
 ing badge, as it is of nature. Time cannot change it, 
 nor can it be impaired by the decrees of tyranny or of 
 justice. 
 
 One beautiful day Haddad-Ben-Ahab and his friends 
 had met in this kiosk of dreams, and were socially en- 
 joying the fragrant smoke of their pipes, and listening 
 to the refreshing undulations of the river, as the boats 
 softly glided along, for the waters lay in glassy still- 
 ness, the winds were asleep, even the sunbeams 
 seemed to rest in a slumber on all things. The smoke 
 stood on the chimney-tops as if a tall visionary tree grew 
 out of each ; and the many-colored cloths in the yard of 
 Orooblis, the Armenian dyer, hung unmolested by a 
 breath. Orooblis himself was the only thing, in that
 
 60 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 soft and bright noon, which appeared on the land to be 
 animated with any purpose. 
 
 Orooblis was preparing a boat to descend the Tigris, 
 and his servants were loading it with bales of apparel 
 and baskets of provisions, while he himself was in a 
 great bustle, going often between his dwelling-house and 
 the boat, talking loud and giving orders, and ever and 
 anon wiping his forehead, for he was a man that de- 
 lighted in having an ado. 
 
 Haddad-Ben-Ahab, seeing Orooblis so active, looked 
 at him for some time ; and it so happened that all the 
 Mends at the same moment took their amber-headed 
 pipes from their lips, and said, 
 
 " Where can Orooblis, the Armenian dyer, be going ? " 
 
 Such a simultaneous interjection naturally surprised 
 them all, and Haddad-Ben-Ahab added, 
 
 " I should like to go with him, and see strange things, 
 for I have never been out of the city of Bagdad, save 
 once to pluck pomegranates in the garden of Beys-Addy- 
 Boolk." And he then rose and went to the boat which 
 Orooblis was loading, and spoke to him ; and when it 
 was ready they seated themselves on board and sailed 
 down the Tigris, having much pleasant discourse con- 
 cerning distant lands and hills whose tops pierced the 
 clouds, and were supposed to be the pillars that upheld 
 the crystal dome of the heavens. 
 
 Haddad-Ben-Ahab rejoiced greatly as they sailed 
 along, and at last they came to a little town, where 
 Orooblis, having business in dyestuffs to transact, went 
 on shore, leaving his friend. But in what corner of the 
 earth this Little town stood Haddad-Ben-Ahab knew not;
 
 HADDAD-BEN-AHAB THE TRAVELLER. 61 
 
 for, like other travellers, he was not provided with much 
 geographical knowledge. 
 
 But soon after the departure of Orooblis he thought 
 he would also land and inquire. Accordingly, taking 
 his pipe in his hand, he stepped out of the boat and 
 went about the town, looking at many things, till he 
 came to a wharf where a large ship was taking merchan- 
 dise on board ; and her sailors were men of a different 
 complexion from that of the watermen who plied on the 
 Tigris at Bagdad. 
 
 Haddad-Ben-Ahab looked at them, and as he was 
 standing near to where they were at work, he thought 
 that this ship afforded a better opportunity than he had 
 enjoyed with Orooblis to see foreign countries. He 
 accordingly went up to the captain and held out a hand- 
 ful of money, and indicated that he was desirous to sail 
 away with the ship. 
 
 When the captain saw the gold he was mightily civil, 
 and spoke to Haddad-Ben-Ahab with a loud voice, per- 
 haps thinking to make him hear was the way to make 
 him understand. But Haddad-Ben-Ahab only held up 
 the forefinger of his right hand and shook it to and fro. 
 In the end, however, he was taken on board the ship, 
 and no sooner was he there than he sat down on a sofa, 
 and drawing his legs up under him kindled his pipe and 
 began to smoke, much at his ease, making observations 
 with his eyes as he did so. 
 
 The first observation Haddad-Ben-Ahab made was, 
 that the sofa on which he had taken his place was not 
 at all like the sofas of Bagdad, and therefore when he 
 returned he would show that he had not travelled with-
 
 62 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 out profit by having one made exactly similar for his 
 best chamber, with hens and ducks under it, pleasantly 
 feeding and joyously cackling and quacking. And he 
 also observed a remarkable sagacity in the ducks, for 
 when they saw he was a stranger, they turned up ths> 
 sides of their heads and eyed him in a most curious and 
 inquisitive manner, very different, indeed, from the 
 ducks of Bagdad. 
 
 When the ship had taken on board her cargo she 
 spread her sails, and Haddad-Ben-Ahab felt himself in 
 a new situation ; for presently she began to lie over, and 
 to plunge and revel among the waves like a glad crea- 
 ture. But Haddad-Ben-Ahab became very sick, and 
 the captain showed him the way down into the inside 
 of the vessel, where he went into a dark bed, and was 
 charitably tended by one of the sailors for many days. 
 
 After a season there was much shouting on the deck 
 of the ship, and Haddad-Ben-Ahab crawled out of his 
 bed, and went to the sofa, and saw that the ship was 
 near the end of her voyage. 
 
 When she had come to a bank where those on board 
 could step out, Haddad-Ben-Ahab did so : and after he 
 had seen all the strange things which were in the town 
 where he thus landed, he went into a baker's shop, for 
 they eat bread in that town as they do in Bagdad, and 
 bought a loaf, which having eaten, he quenched his 
 thirst at a fountain hard by, in his ordinary manner of 
 drinking, at which he wondered exceedingly. 
 
 When he had solaced himself with all the wonders of 
 that foreign city, he went to a fakier, who was holding 
 two horses ready saddled; beautiful they were, and, as
 
 HADDAD-BEN-AHAB THE TRAVELLER. 63 
 
 the fakier signified by signs, their hoofs were so fleet 
 that they left the wind behind them. Haddad-Ben-Ahab 
 then showed the fakier his gold, and mounted one of 
 the horses, pointing with the shaft of his pipe to the 
 fakier to mount the other; and then they both rode 
 away into the country, and they found that the wind 
 blew in their faces. 
 
 At last they came to a caravansary, where the fakier 
 bought a cooked hen and two onions, of which they both 
 partook, and stretching themselves before the fire which 
 they had lighted in their chamber, they fell asleep and 
 slept until the dawn of day, when they resumed their 
 journey into remoter parts and nearer to the wall of the 
 world, which Haddad-Ben-Ahab conjectured they must 
 soon reach. They had not, however, journeyed many 
 days in the usual manner when they came to the banks 
 of a large river, and the fakier would go no farther with 
 his swift horses. Haddad-Ben-Ahab was in consequence 
 constrained to pay and part from him, and to embark 
 in a ferry-boat to convey him over the stream, where he 
 found a strange vehicle with four horses standing ready 
 to carry him on towards the wall of the world, " which 
 surely," said he to himself, "ought not to be now far 
 off." 
 
 Haddad-Ben-Ahab showed his gold again, and was 
 permitted to take a seat in the vehicle, which soon 
 after drove away ; and he remarked, in a most sagacious 
 manner, that nothing in that country was like the things 
 in his own ; for the houses and trees and all things ran 
 away as the vehicle came up to them ; and when it gave 
 a jostle, they gave a jump ; which he noted as one of
 
 64 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 the most extraordinary things he had seen since he left 
 
 At last Haddad-Ben-Ahab came to the foot of a lofty 
 green mountain, with groves and jocund villages, which 
 studded it, as it were, with gems and shining ornaments, 
 and he said, "This must be the wall of the world, for 
 surely nothing can exist on the other side of these hills ! 
 but I will ascend them and look over, for I should like 
 to tell my friends in Bagdad what is to be seen on the 
 outside of the earth." Accordingly he ascended the 
 green mountain, and he came to a thick forest of stubby 
 trees: "This is surprising," said Haddad-Ben-Ahab, 
 "but higher I will yet go." And he passed through 
 that forest of trees and came to a steep moorland part 
 of the hill, where no living thing could be seen, but a 
 solitude without limit, and the living world all glittering 
 at the foot of the mountain. 
 
 " This is a high place," said Haddad-Ben-Ahab, " but 
 I will yet go higher," and he began to climb with his 
 hands. After an upward journey of great toil he came 
 to a frozen region, and the top of the wall of the world 
 was still far above him. He was, however, none daunted 
 by the distance, but boldly held on in the ascent, and at 
 last he reached the top of the wall. But when he got 
 there, instead of a region of fog and chaos, he only be- 
 held another world much like our own, and he was 
 greatly amazed, and exclaimed with a loud voice, 
 " Will my friends in Bagdad believe this ? but it is 
 true, and I will so tell them." So he hastened down 
 the mountain, and went with all the speed he could back 
 to Bagdad ; saying, " Bagdad," and giving gold to every
 
 HADDAD-BEN-AHAB THE TRAVELLER. 65 
 
 man he met, until he reached the kiosk of dreams, where 
 his friends were smoking and looking at the gambols of 
 the Tigris. 
 
 When the friends of Haddad-Ben-Ahab saw him ap- 
 proach, they respectively took their pipes from their 
 mouths and held them in their left hands, while they 
 pressed their bosoms with their right, and received him 
 with a solemn salaam, for he had been long absent, and 
 all they in the mean time had heard concerning him was 
 only what Orooblis, the Armenian dyer, on his return 
 told them : namely, that he was gone to the wall of the 
 world, which limits the travels of man. No wonder 
 then that they rejoiced with an exceeding gladness to 
 see him return and take his place in the kiosk among 
 them, as if he had never been a day's journey away from 
 
 They then questioned him about his adventures, and 
 he faithfully related to them all the wonders which have 
 been set forth in our account of the journey; upon 
 which they declared he had made himself one of the 
 sages of the earth. 
 
 Afterward they each made a feast, to which they 
 invited all the philosophers in Bagdad, and Haddad- 
 Ben-Ahab was placed in the seat of honor, and being 
 courteously solicited, told them of his travels, and every 
 one cried aloud, "God is great, and Mahomet is his 
 prophet ! " 
 
 When they had in this manner banqueted, Haddad- 
 Ben-Ahab fell sick, and there was a great talk concern- 
 ing the same. Some said he was very ill ; others shook 
 their heads and spoke not ; but the world is full of envy
 
 66 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 and hard-heartedness, and those who were spiteful be- 
 cause of the renown which Haddad-Ben-Ahab, as a 
 traveller who had visited the top of the wall of the 
 world with so much courage, had acquired, jeered at 
 his malady, saying he had been only feasted overmuch. 
 Nevertheless, Haddad-Ben-Ahab died; and never was 
 such a funeral seen in all Bagdad, save that of the 
 caliph Mahoud, commonly called the Magnificent. Such 
 was the admiration in which the memory of the traveller 
 was held, the poets made dirges on the occasion, and 
 mournful songs were heard in the twilight from the 
 windows of every harem. Nor did the generation of 
 the time content itself with the ceremonies of lamenta- 
 tion : they caused a fountain to be erected, which they 
 named the Fountain of Haddad-Ben-Ahab the traveller ; 
 and when the slaves go to fetch water, they speak of the 
 wonderful things he did, and how he was on the top 
 of the wall of the world, and saw the outside of the 
 earth; so that his memory lives forever among them, 
 as one of the greatest, the wisest, and the bravest of 
 men.
 
 BLUEBEABD'S GHOST. 
 
 BY WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 
 
 R some time after the fatal accident which 
 deprived her of her husband, Mrs. Bluebeard 
 was, as may be imagined, in a state of pro- 
 found grief. 
 
 There was not a widow in all the country who went 
 to such an expense for black bombazine. She had 
 her beautiful hair confined in crimped caps, and hel 
 weepers came over her elbows. Of course, she saw no 
 company except her sister Anne (whose company was 
 anything but pleasant to the widow) ; as for her broth- 
 ers, their odious mess-table manners had always been 
 disagreeable to her. What did she care for jokes about 
 the major, or scandal concerning the Scotch surgeon of 
 the regiment? If they drank their wine out of black 
 bottles or crystal, what did it matter to her ? Their 
 stories of the stable, the parade, and the last run with 
 the hounds, were perfectly odious to her ; besides, she 
 could not bear their impertinent mustachios, and filthy 
 habit of smoking cigars. 
 
 They were always wild, vulgar young men, at the
 
 68 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 best ; but now, now, O, their presence to her deli- 
 cate soul was horror ! How could she bear to look on 
 them after what had occurred ? She thought of the 
 best of husbands ruthlessly cut down by their cruel, 
 heavy, cavalry sabres ; the kind friend, the generous 
 landlord, the spotless justice of peace, in whose family 
 differences these rude cornets of dragoons had dared 
 to interfere, whose venerable blue hairs they had dragged 
 down with sorrow to the grave. 
 
 She put up a most splendid monument to her departed 
 lord over the family vault of the Bluebeards. The rec- 
 tor, Dr. Sly, who had been Mr. Bluebeard's tutor at 
 college, wrote an epitaph in the most pompous yet 
 pathetic Latin : " Siste, viator ! mcerens conjux, heu ! 
 quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui memi- 
 nisse " ; in a word, everything that is usually said in 
 epitaphs. A bust of the departed saint, with Virtue 
 mourning over it, stood over the epitaph, surrounded 
 by medallions of his wives, and one of these medallions 
 had as yet no name in it, nor (the epitaph said) could 
 the widow ever be consoled until her own name was 
 inscribed there. "For then I shall be with him. In 
 ccelo quies," she would say, throwing up her fine eyes 
 to heavfen, and quoting the enormous words of the 
 hatchment which was put up in the church, and over 
 Bluebeard's hall, where the butler, the housekeeper, the 
 footman, the housemaid, and scullions were all in the 
 profoundest mourning. The keeper went out to shoot 
 birds in a crape band ; nay, the very scarecrows in the 
 orchard and fruit garden were ordered to be dressed in 
 black.
 
 BLUEBEAED'S GHOST. 69 
 
 Sister Anne was the only person who refused to wear 
 black. Mrs. Bluebeard would have parted with her, 
 but she had no other female relative. Her father, it 
 may be remembered by readers of the former part of 
 her Memoirs, had married again, and the mother-in-law 
 and Mrs. Bluebeard, as usual, hated each other furi- 
 ously. Mrs. Shacabac had come to the hall on a visit 
 of condolence; but the widow was so rude to her on 
 the second day of the visit that the step-mother quitted 
 the house in a fury. As for the Bluebeards, of course 
 they hated the widow. Had not Mr. Bluebeard settled 
 every shilling upon her ? and, having no children by his 
 former marriage, her property, as I leave you to fancy, 
 was pretty handsome. So Sister Anne was the only 
 female relative whom Mrs. Bluebeard would keep near 
 her ; and, as we all know, a woman must have a female 
 relative under any circumstances of pain, or pleasure, or 
 profit, when she is married, or when she is widowed, 
 or when she is in a delicate situation. But let us con- 
 tinue our story. 
 
 " I will never wear mourning for that odious wretch, 
 sister ! " Anne would cry. 
 
 "I will trouble you, Miss Anne, not to use such 
 words in my presence regarding the best of husbands, 
 or to quit the room at once ! " the widow would 
 answer. 
 
 " I 'm sure it 's no great pleasure to sit in it. I won- 
 der you don't make use of the closet, sister, where the 
 other Mrs. Bluebeards are." 
 
 " Impertinence ! they were all embalmed by M. Gan- 
 nal. How dare you report the monstrous calumoiea
 
 70 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 regarding the best of men? Take down the family 
 Bible, and read what my blessed saint says of his wives, 
 read it, written in his own hand : 
 
 " ' Friday, June 20. Married my beloved wife, Anna 
 Maria Scrogginsia. 
 
 " ' Saturday, August 1. A bereaved husband has scarcely 
 strength to write down in this chronicle that the dearest of 
 wives, Anna Maria Scrogginsia, expired this day of sore 
 throat.' 
 
 " There ! can anything be more convincing than that ? 
 Read again : 
 
 " ' Tuesday, September 1. This day I led to the hymeneal 
 altar my soul's blessing, Louisa Matilda Hopkinson. May this 
 angel supply the place of her I have lost ! 
 
 " ' Wednesday, October 5. O Heavens ! pity the distrac- 
 tion of a wretch who is obliged to record the ruin of his dear- 
 est hopes and affections ! This day my adored Louisa Matilda 
 Hopkinson gave up the ghost ! A complaint of the head and 
 shoulders was the sudden cause of the event which has ren- 
 dered the unhappy subscriber the most miserable of men. 
 
 " ' BLUEBEARD.' 
 
 " Every one of the women are calendared in this de- 
 lightful, this pathetic, this truly virtuous and tender 
 way ; and can you suppose that a man who wrote such 
 sentiments could be a murderer, miss ? " 
 
 "Do you mean to say that he did not kill them, 
 then ? " said Anne. 
 
 " Gracious goodness, Anne, kill them ! they died 
 all as naturally as I hope you will. My blessed hus- 
 band was an angel of goodness and kindness to them.
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 71 
 
 Was it his fault that the doctors could not cure their 
 maladies ? No, that it was n't ! and when they died 
 the inconsolable husband had their bodies embalmed in 
 order that on this side of the grave he might never 
 part from them." 
 
 " And why did he take you up in the tower, pray ? 
 And why did you send me in such a hurry to the leads ? 
 and why did he sharpen his long knife, and roar out to 
 
 you to COME DOWN P " 
 
 " Merely to punish me for my curiosity, the dear, 
 good, kind, excellent creature ! " sobbed the widow, 
 overpowered with affectionate recollections of her lord's 
 attentions to her. 
 
 " I wish," said Sister Anne, sulkily, " that I had not 
 been in such a hurry in summoning my brothers." 
 
 " Ah ! " screamed Mrs. Bluebeard, with a harrowing 
 scream, " don't, don't recall that horrid, fatal day, 
 miss ! If you had not misled your brothers, my poor, 
 dear, darling Bluebeard would still be in life, still still 
 the soul's joy of his bereaved Patima ! " 
 
 Whether it is that all wives adore husbands when 
 the latter are no more, or whether it is that Fatima's 
 version of the story is really the correct one, and that 
 the common impression against Bluebeard is an odious 
 prejudice, and that he no more murdered his wives than 
 you and I have, remains yet to be proved, and, indeed, 
 does not much matter for the understanding of the rest 
 of Mrs. B.'s adventures. And though people will say 
 that Bluebeard's settlement of his whole fortune on his 
 wife, in event of survivorship, was a mere act of absurd 
 mystification, seeing that he was fully determined to cut
 
 72 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 her head off after the honeymoon, yet the best test of 
 his real intentions is the profound grief which the widow 
 manifested for his death, and the fact that he left her 
 mighty well to do in the world. 
 
 If any one were to leave you or me a fortune, my dear 
 friend, would we be too anxious to rake up the how and 
 the why ? Pooh ! pooh ! we would take it and make 
 no bones about it, and Mrs. Bluebeard did likewise. 
 Her husband's family, it is true, argued the point with 
 her, and said, "Madam, you must perceive that Mr. 
 Bluebeard never intended the fortune for you, as it was 
 his fixed intention to chop off your head ! It is clear 
 that he meant to leave his money to his blood relations, 
 therefore you ought in equity to hand it over. But she 
 sent them all off with a flea in their ears, as the saying 
 is, and said, " Your argument may be a very good one, 
 but I will, if you please, keep the money." And she 
 ordered the mourning as we have before shown, and 
 indulged in grief, and exalted everywhere the character 
 of the deceased. If any one would but leave me a for- 
 tune, what a funeral and what a character I would give 
 him ! 
 
 Bluebeard Hall is situated, as we all very well know, 
 in a remote country district, and, although a fine resi- 
 dence, is remarkably gloomy and lonely. To the widow's 
 susceptible mind, after the death of her darling husband, 
 the place became intolerable. The walk, the lawn, the 
 fountain, the green glades of park over which frisked 
 the dappled deer, all, all recalled the memory of her 
 beloved. It was but yesterday that, as they roamed 
 through the park in the calm summer evening, her
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 73 
 
 Bluebeard pointed out to the keeper the fat buck he 
 was to kill. " Ah ! " said the widow, with tears in her 
 fine eyes, " the artless stag was shot down, the haunch 
 was cut and roasted, the jelly had been prepared from 
 the currant-bushes in the garden that he loved, but my 
 Bluebeard never ate of the venison ! Look, Anne sweet, 
 pass we the old oak hall ; 't is hung with trophies won 
 by him in the chase, with pictures of the noble race of 
 Bluebeard ! Look ! by the fireplace there is the gig- whip, 
 his riding-whip, the spud with which you know he used 
 to dig the weeds out of the terrace- walk ; in that drawer 
 are his spurs, his whistle, his visiting-cards, with his 
 dear, dear name engraven upon them ! There are the 
 bits of string that he used to cut off the parcels and 
 keep, because string was always useful ; his button-hook, 
 and there is the peg on which he used to hang his 
 h h hat!" 
 
 Uncontrollable emotions, bursts of passionate tears, 
 would follow these tender reminiscences of the widow; 
 and the long and short of the matter was, that she was 
 determined to give up Bluebeard Hall and live else- 
 where ; her love for the memory of the deceased, she 
 said, rendered the place too wretched. 
 
 Of course, an envious and sneering world said that 
 she was tired of the country, and wanted to marry 
 again ; but she little heeded its taunts ; and Anne, who 
 hated her step-mother and could not live at home, was 
 fain to accompany her sister to the town where the 
 Bluebeards have had for many years a very large, gen- 
 teel, old-fashioned house. So she went to the town- 
 house, where they lived and quarrelled pretty much as 
 
 VOL. IX. 4
 
 74 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 usual ; and though Anne often threatened to leave her, 
 and go to a boarding-house, of which there were plenty 
 in the place, yet, after all, to live with her sister, and 
 drive out in the carriage with the footman and coach- 
 man in mourning, and the lozenge on the panels, with 
 the Bluebeard and Shacabac arms quartered on it, was 
 far more respectable, and so the lovely sisters continued 
 to dwell together. 
 
 For a lady under Mrs. Bluebeard's circumstances, the 
 town-house has other and peculiar advantages. Besides 
 being an exceedingly spacious and dismal brick building, 
 with a dismal iron railing in front, and long, dismal, thin 
 windows, with little panes of glass, it looked out into 
 the churchyard, where, time out of mind, between two 
 yew-trees, one of which is cut into the form of a pea- 
 cock, while the other represents a dumb-waiter, it looked 
 into the churchyard where the monument of the late 
 Bluebeard was placed over the family vault. It was the 
 first thing the widow saw from her bedroom window in 
 the morning, and 'twas sweet to watch at night, from 
 the parlor, the pallid moonlight lighting up the bust of 
 the departed, and Virtue throwing great black shadows 
 athwart it. Polyanthuses, rhododendra, ranunculuses, 
 and other flowers, with the largest names and of the most 
 delightful odors, were planted within the little iron rail- 
 ing that enclosed the last resting-place of the Blue- 
 beards ; and the beadle was instructed to half kill any 
 little boys who might be caught plucking these sweet 
 testimonials of a wife's affection. 
 
 Over the sideboard in the dining-room hung a full-
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 75 
 
 length of Mr. Bluebeard, by Ticklegill, R. A., in a 
 militia uniform, frowning down upon the knives and 
 forks and silver trays. Over the mantel-piece he was 
 represented in a hunting costume, on his favorite horse ; 
 there was a sticking-plaster silhouette of him in the 
 widow's bedroom, and a miniature in the drawing-room, 
 where he was drawn in a gown of black and gold, hold- 
 ing a gold-tasselled trencher cap with one hand, and 
 with the other pointing to a diagram of Pons Asinorum. 
 This likeness was taken when he was a fellow-commoner 
 at St. John's College, Cambridge, and before the growth 
 of that blue beard which was the ornament of his man- 
 hood, and a part of which now formed a beautiful blue 
 neck-chain for his bereaved wife. 
 
 Sister Anne said the town-house was even more dismal 
 than the country-house, for there was pure air at the 
 Hall, and it was pleasanter to look out on a park than 
 on a churchyard, however fine the monuments might be. 
 But the widow said she was a light-minded hussy, and 
 persisted as usual in her lamentations and mourning. 
 The only male whom she would admit within her doors 
 was the parson of the parish, who read sermons to her ; 
 and, as his reverence was at least seventy years old, 
 Anne, though she might be ever so much minded to fall in 
 love, had no opportunity to indulge her inclination ; and 
 the town-people, scandalous as they might be, could not 
 find a word to say against the liaison, of the venerable 
 man and the heart-stricken widow. 
 
 All other company she resolutely refused. When the 
 players were in the town, the poor manager, who came 
 to beg her to bespeak a comedy, was thrust out of the
 
 76 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 gates by the big butler. Though there were balls, eara- 
 parties, and assemblies, Widow Bluebeard would never 
 subscribe to one of them ; and even the officers, those 
 all-conquering heroes who make such ravages in ladies' 
 hearts, and to whom all ladies' doors are commonly 
 open, could never get an entry into the widow's house. 
 Captain Whiskerfield strutted for three weeks up and 
 down before her house, and had not the least effect upon 
 her. Captain O'Grady (of an Irish regiment) attempted 
 to bribe the servants, and one night actually scaled the 
 garden wall; but all that he got was his foot in a 
 man-trap, not to mention being dreadfully scarified by 
 the broken glass ; and so he never made love any more. 
 Finally, Captain Blackboard, whose whiskers vied in 
 magnitude with those of the deceased Bluebeard himself, 
 although he attended church regularly every week, he 
 who had not darkened the doors of a church for ten 
 years before, even Captain Blackbeard got nothing by 
 his piety ; and the widow never once took her eyes off 
 her book to look at him. The barracks were in despair ; 
 and Captain Whiskerfield's tailor, who had supplied him 
 with new clothes in order to win the widow's heart, 
 ended by clapping the captain into jail. 
 
 His reverence the parson highly applauded the wid- 
 ow's conduct to the officers ; but, being himself rather 
 of a social turn, and fond of a good dinner and a bottle, 
 he represented to the lovely mourner that she should 
 endeavor to divert her grief by a little respectable soci- 
 ety, and recommended that she should from time to 
 time entertain a few grave and sober persons whom he 
 would present to her. As Dr. Sly had an unbounded
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 77 
 
 influence over the fair mourner, she acceded to his de- 
 sires ; and accordingly he introduced to her house some 
 of the most venerable and worthy of his acquaintance, 
 all married people, however, so that the widow should 
 not take the least alarm. 
 
 It happened that the doctor had a nephew, who was 
 a lawyer in London, and this gentleman came dutifully 
 in the long vacation to pay a visit to his reverend uncle. 
 " He is none of your roystering, dashing young fellows," 
 said his reverence ; " he is the delight of his mamma 
 and sisters ; he never drinks anything stronger than tea ; 
 he never missed church thrice a Sunday for these twenty 
 years ; and I hope, my dear and amiable madam, that 
 you will not object to receive this pattern of young men 
 for the sake of your most devoted friend, his uncle." 
 
 The widow consented to receive Mr. Sly. He was 
 not a handsome man, certainly. "But what does that 
 matter ? " said the doctor. " He is good, and virtue is 
 better than all the beauty of all the dragoons in the 
 Queen's service." 
 
 Mr. Sly came there to dinner, and he came to tea ; 
 and he drove out with the widow in the carriage with 
 the lozenge on it ; and at church he handed the psalm- 
 book ; and, in short, he paid her every attention which 
 could be expected from so polite a young gentleman. 
 
 At this the town began to talk, as people in towns 
 will. " The doctor kept all bachelors out of the widow's 
 house," said they, " in order that that ugly nephew of 
 his may have the field entirely to himself." These 
 speeches were of course heard by Sister Anne, and the 
 little minx was not a little glad to take advantage of
 
 78 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 them, in order to induce her sister to see some more 
 cheerful company. The fact is, the young hussy loved 
 a dance or a game at cards much more than a humdrum 
 conversation over a tea-table ; and so she plied her sister 
 day and night with hints as to the propriety of opening 
 her house, receiving the gentry of the county, and spend- 
 ing her fortune. 
 
 To this point the widow at length, though with many 
 sighs and vast unwillingness, acceded ; and she went so 
 far as to order a very becoming half-mourning, in which 
 all the world declared she looked charming. " I carry," 
 said she, " my blessed Bluebeard in my heart, that is 
 in the deepest mourning for him, and when the heart 
 grieves, there is no need of outward show." 
 
 So she issued cards for a little quiet tea and supper, 
 and several of the best families in the town and neigh- 
 borhood attended her entertainment. It was followed 
 by another and another ; and at last Captain Blackboard 
 was actually introduced, though, of course, he came in 
 plain clothes. 
 
 Dr. Sly and his nephew never could abide the captain. 
 "They had heard some queer stories," they said, "about 
 proceedings in barracks. Who was it that drank three 
 bottles at a sitting ? who had a mare that ran for the 
 plate ? and why was it that Dolly Coddlins left the town 
 so suddenly?" Mr. Sly turned up the whites of his 
 eyes as his uncle asked these questions, and sighed for 
 the wickedness of the world. But for all that he was 
 delighted, especially at the anger which the widow 
 manifested when the Dolly Coddlins affair was hinted 
 at. She was furious, and vowed she would never see
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 79 
 
 the wretch again. The lawyer and his uncle were 
 charmed. short-sighted lawyer and parson, do you 
 think Mrs. Bluebeard would have been so angry if she 
 had not been jealous ? do you think she would have 
 been jealous if she had not . . . had not what ? She 
 protested that she no more cared for the captain than 
 she did for one of her footmen; but the next time he 
 called she would not condescend to say a word to him. 
 
 " My dearest Miss Anne," said the captain, as he met 
 her in Sir Roger de Coverley (she herself was dancing 
 with Ensign Trippet), "what is the matter with your 
 lovely sister ? " 
 
 " Dolly Coddlins is the matter," said Miss Anne. 
 " Mr. Sly has told all." And she was down the middle 
 in a twinkling. 
 
 The captain blushed so at this monstrous insinuation, 
 that any one could see how incorrect it was. He made 
 innumerable blunders in the dance, and was all the time 
 casting such ferocious glances at Mr. Sly (who did not 
 dance, but sat by the widow and ate ices), that his part- 
 ner thought he was mad, and that Mr. Sly became very 
 uneasy. 
 
 When the dance was over, he came to pay his 
 respects to the widow, and, in so doing, somehow trod 
 so violently on Mr. Sly's foot, that that gentleman 
 screamed with pain, and presently went home. But 
 though he was gone, the widow was not a whit more 
 gracious to Captain Blackboard. She requested Mr. 
 Trippet to order her carriage that night, and went home 
 without uttering one single word to Captain Blackbeard. 
 
 The next morning, and with a face of preternatural
 
 80 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 longitude, the Rev. Dr. Sly paid a visit to the widow. 
 "The wickedness and bloodthirstiness of the world." 
 said he, " increase every day. O my dear madam, what 
 monsters do we meet in it, what wretches, what assas- 
 sins, are allowed to go abroad ! Would you believe it, 
 that this morning, as my nephew was taking his peaceful 
 morning-meal, one of the ruffians from the barracks pre* 
 sented himself with a challenge from Captain Black, 
 beard?" 
 
 " Is he hurt ? " screamed the widow. 
 
 " No, my dear friend, my dear Frederick is not hurt. 
 And O, what a joy it will be to him to think you have 
 that tender solicitude for his welfare !." 
 
 " You know I have always had the highest respect for 
 him," said the widow ; who, when she screamed, was in 
 truth thinking of somebody else. But the doctor did 
 not choose to interpret her thoughts in that way, and 
 gave all the benefit of them to his nephew. 
 
 " That anxiety, dearest madam, which you express for 
 him emboldens me, encourages me, authorizes me, to 
 press a point upon you which I am sure must have en- 
 tered your thoughts ere now. The dear youth in whom 
 you have shown such an interest lives but for you ! 
 Yes, fair lady, start not at hearing that his sole affections 
 are yours; and with what pride shall I carry to him 
 back the news that he is not indifferent to you ! " 
 
 " Are they going to fight ? " continued the lady, in a 
 breathless state of alarm. " For Heaven^s sake, dearest 
 doctor, prevent the horrid, horrid meeting. Send for a 
 magistrate's warrant ; do anything ; but do not suffer 
 those misguided young men to cut each other's throats ! "
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 81 
 
 " Fairest lady, I fly ! " said the doctor, and went back 
 to lunch quite delighted with the evident partiality Mrs. 
 Bluebeard showed for his nephew. And Mrs. Bluebeard, 
 not content with exhorting him to prevent the duel, 
 rushed to Mr. Pound, the magistrate, informed him of 
 the facts, got out warrants against both Mr. Sly and the 
 captain, and would have put them into execution ; but it 
 was discovered that the former gentleman had abruptly 
 left town, so that the constable could not lay hold of 
 him. 
 
 It somehow, however, came to be generally known 
 that the widow Bluebeard had declared herself in favor 
 of Mr. Sly, the lawyer ; that she had fainted when told 
 her lover was about to fight a duel ; finally, that she had 
 accepted him, and would marry him as soon as the quar- 
 rel between him and the captain was settled. Dr. Sly, 
 when applied to, hummed and ha'd, and would give no 
 direct answer ; but he denied nothing, and looked so 
 knowing, that all the world was certain of the fact ; and 
 the county paper next week stated : 
 
 " We understand that the lovely and wealthy Mrs. Bl b rd 
 is about once more to enter the bands of wedlock with our 
 distinguished townsman, Frederick S y, Esq., of the Middle 
 Temple, London. The learned gentleman left town in conse- 
 quence of a dispute with a gallant son of Mars, which was likely 
 to have led to warlike results, had not a magistrate's warrant 
 intervened, when the captain was bound over to keep the 
 peace." 
 
 In fact, as soon as the captain was so bound over, Mr. 
 Sly came back, stating that he had quitted the town not 
 to avoid a duel, far from it, but to keep out of the 
 4
 
 82 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 way of the magistrates, and give the captain every facil- 
 ity. He had taken out no warrant ; he had been per- 
 fectly ready to meet the captain; if others had been 
 more prudent, it was not his fault. So he held up his 
 head, and cocked his hat with the most determined air ; 
 and all the lawyers' clerks in the place were quite proud 
 of their hero. 
 
 As for Captain Blackboard, his rage and indignation 
 may be imagined ; a wife robbed from him, his honor 
 put in question by an odious, lanky, squinting lawyer ! 
 He fell ill of a fever incontinently ; and the surgeon was 
 obliged to take a quantity of blood from him, ten times 
 the amount of which he swore he would have out of the 
 veins of the atrocious Sly. 
 
 The announcement in " The Mercury," however, filled 
 the widow with almost equal indignation. " The widow 
 of the gallant Bluebeard," she said, " marry an odious 
 wretch who lives in dingy chambers in the Middle Tem- 
 ple ! Send for Dr. Sly." The doctor came ; she rated 
 him soundly, asked him how he dared set abroad such 
 calumnies concerning her; ordered him to send his 
 nephew back to London at once ; and as he valued her 
 esteem, as he valued the next presentation to a fat living 
 which lay in her gift, to contradict everywhere, and in 
 the fullest terms, the wicked report concerning her. 
 
 " My dearest madam," said the doctor, pulling his 
 longest face, " you shall be obeyed. The poor lad shall 
 be acquainted with the fatal change in your senti- 
 ments ! " 
 
 " Change in my sentiments, Dr. Sly ! " 
 
 "With the destruction of his hopes, rather let me
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 83 
 
 gay ; and Heaven grant that the dear boy have strength 
 to bear up against the misfortune which comes so sud- 
 denly upon him ! " 
 
 The next day Sister Anne came with a face full of care 
 to Mrs. Bluebeard. " O, that unhappy lover of yours ! " 
 said she. 
 
 " Is the captain unwell ? " exclaimed the widow. 
 
 " No, it is the other," answered Sister Anne. " Poor, 
 poor Mr. Sly ! He made a will leaving you all, except 
 five pounds a year to his laundress : he made his will, 
 locked his door, took heart-rending leave of his uncle 
 at night, and this morning was found hanging at his bed- 
 post when Sambo, the black servant, took him up his 
 water to shave. 'Let me be buried/ he said, 'with 
 the pincushion she gave me and the locket containing 
 her hair.' Did you give him a pincushion, sister ? did 
 you give him a locket with your hair?" 
 
 " It was only silver-gilt ! " sobbed the widow ; " and 
 now, Heavens ! I have killed him ! " The heart-rend- 
 ing nature of her sobs may be imagined ; but they were 
 abruptly interrupted by her sister. 
 
 " Killed him ? no such thing ! Sambo cut him down 
 when he was as black in the face as the honest negro 
 himself. He came down to breakfast, and I leave you 
 to fancy what a touching meeting took place between the 
 nephew and the uncle." 
 
 " So much love ! " thought the widow. " What a pity 
 he squints so ! If he would but get his eyes put straight, 
 I might perhaps " She did not finish the sentence : 
 ladies often leave fhis sort of sentence in a sweet confu- 
 sion.
 
 84< LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 But hearing some news regarding Captain Blackboard, 
 whose illness and blood-letting were described to her 
 most pathetically, as well as accurately, by the Scotch 
 surgeon of the regiment, her feelings of compassion 
 towards the lawyer cooled somewhat ; and when Dr. Sly 
 called to know if she would condescend to meet the un- 
 happy youth, she said in rather a distrait manner, that 
 she wished him every happiness ; that she had the highest 
 regard and respect for him ; that she besought him not 
 to think any more of committing the dreadful crime 
 which would have made her unhappy forever ; but that 
 she thought, for the sake of both parties, they had better 
 not meet until Mr. Sly's feelings had grown somewhat 
 more calm. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! poor fellow ! " said the doctor, " may 
 he be enabled to bear his frightful calamity ! I have 
 taken away his razors from him, and Sambo, my man, 
 never lets him out of his sight." 
 
 The next day, Mrs. Bluebeard thought of sending a 
 friendly message to Dr. Sly's, asking for news of the 
 health of his nephew ; but, as she was giving her orders 
 on that subject to John Thomas the footman, it happened 
 that the captain arrived, and so Thomas was sent down 
 stairs again. And the captain looked so delightfully in- 
 teresting with his arm in a sling, and his beautiful black 
 whiskers curling round a face which was paler than 
 usual, that, at the end of two hours, the widow forgot 
 the message altogether, and, indeed, I believe, asked the 
 captain whether he would not stop and dine. Ensign. 
 Trippet came, too, and the party was very pleasant ; and 
 the military gentlemen laughed hugely at the idea of the
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 85 
 
 lawyer having been cut off the bedpost by the black ser- 
 vant, and were so witty on the subject, that the widow 
 ended by half believing that the bedpost and hanging 
 scheme on the part of Mr. Sly was only a feint, a trick 
 to win her heart. Though this, to be sure, was not 
 agreed to by the lady without a pang, for, entre nous, to 
 hang one's self for a lady is no small compliment to her 
 attractions, and, perhaps, Mrs. Bluebeard was rather 
 disappointed at the notion that the hanging was not a 
 bonafide strangulation. 
 
 However, presently her nerves were excited again; 
 and she was consoled or horrified, as the case may 
 be (the reader must settle the point according to his 
 ideas and knowledge of womankind), she was at 
 any rate dreadfully excited by the receipt of a billet 
 in the well-known clerk-like hand of Mr. Sly. It ran 
 thus : 
 
 " I saw you through your dining-room windows. You were 
 hob-nobbing with Captain Blackboard. You looked rosy and 
 well. You smiled. You drank off the champagne at a single 
 draught. 
 
 " I can bear it no more. Live on, smile on, and be happy. 
 My ghost shall repine, perhaps, at your happiness with another, 
 but in life I should go mad were I to witness it. 
 
 " It is best that I should be gone. 
 
 " When you receive this, tell my uncle to drag the fish- 
 pond at the end of Bachelor's Acre. His black servant Sambo 
 accompanies me, it is true. But Sambo shall perish, with me 
 should his obstinacy venture to restrain me from my purpose. 
 I know the poor fellow's honesty well, but I also know my own 
 despair.
 
 86 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " Sambo will leave a wife and seven children. Be kind to 
 those orphan mulattoes for the sake of 
 
 " FREDERICK." 
 
 The widow gave a dreadful shriek, and interrupted the 
 two captains, who were each just in the act of swallow- 
 ing a bumper of claret. "Fly fly save him," she 
 screamed ; " save him, monsters, ere it is too late ! 
 Drowned ! Frederick ! Bachelor's Wa " Syncope 
 took place, and the rest of the sentence was inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 Deucedly disappointed at being obliged to give up 
 their wine, the two heroes seized their cocked hats, and 
 went towards the spot which the widow in her wild 
 exclamations of despair had sufficiently designated. 
 
 Trippet was for running to the fish-pond at the rate 
 of ten miles an hour. 
 
 " Take it easy, my good fellow," said Captain Black- 
 beard ; " running is unwholesome after dinner. And, if 
 that squinting scoundrel of a lawyer does drown himself, 
 I sha' n't sleep any the worse." So the two gentlemen 
 walked very leisurely on towards the Bachelor's Walk ; 
 and, indeed, seeing on their way thither Major Macabaw 
 looking out of the window at his quarters and smoking 
 a cigar, they went up stairs to consult the major, as also 
 a bottle of Schiedam he had. 
 
 " They come not ! " said the widow, when restored to 
 herself. " O Heavens ! grant that Frederick is safe ! 
 Sister Anne, go up to the leads and look if anybody is 
 coming." And up, accordingly, to the garrets Sister 
 Anne mounted. "Do you see anybody coming, Sister 
 Anne?"
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 87 
 
 "I see Dr. Drench's little boy," said Sister Anne; 
 "he is leaving a pill and draught at Miss Molly 
 Grub's." 
 
 "Dearest Sister Anne, don't you see any one com- 
 ing?" shouted the widow once again. 
 
 " I see a flock of dust no ! a cloud of sheep. 
 Pshaw ! I see the London coach coming in. There are 
 three outsides, and the guard has flung a parcel to Mrs. 
 Jenkins's maid." 
 
 " Distraction ! Look once more, Sister Anne." 
 
 " I see a crowd, a shutter, a shutter with a man 
 on it, a beadle, forty little boys, Gracious good- 
 ness ! what can it be ? " and down stairs tumbled Sister 
 Anne, and was looking out of the parlor-window by her 
 sister's side, when the crowd she had perceived from the 
 garret passed close by them. 
 
 At the head walked the beadle, slashing about at the 
 little boys. 
 
 Two scores of these followed and surrounded 
 
 A SHUTTER carried by four men. 
 
 On the shutter lay Frederick ! He was ghastly pale ; 
 his hair was draggled over his face; his clothes stuck 
 tight to him on account of the wet; streams of water 
 gurgled down the shutter-sides. But he was not dead ! 
 He turned one eye round towards the window where 
 Mrs. Bluebeard sat, and gave her a look which she never 
 could forget. 
 
 Sambo brought up the rear of the procession. He 
 was quite wet through ; and, if anything would have put 
 his hair out of curl, his ducking would have done so. 
 But, as he was not a gentleman, he was allowed to walk
 
 88 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 home on foot, and, as he passed the widow's window, 
 he gave her one dreadful glance with his goggling black 
 eyes, and moved on, pointing with his hands to the 
 shutter. 
 
 John Thomas the footman was instantly despatched to 
 Dr. Sly's to have news of the patient. There was no 
 shilly-shallying now. He came back in half an hour to 
 say that Mr. Frederick flung himself into Bachelor's 
 Acre fish-pond with Sambo, had been dragged out with 
 difficulty, had been put to bed, and had a pint of white 
 wine whey, and was pretty comfortable. " Thank Heav- 
 en ! " said the widow, and gave John Thomas a seven- 
 shilling piece, and sat down with a lightened heart to 
 tea. " What a heart ! " said she to Sister Anne. " And 
 0, what a pity it is that he squints ! " 
 
 Here the two captains arrived. They had not been to 
 the Bachelor's Walk ; they had remained at Major Mac- 
 abaw's consulting the Schiedam. They had made up 
 their minds what to say. "Hang the fellow! he will 
 never have the pluck to drown himself," said Captain 
 Blackboard. " Let us argue on that, as we may safely." 
 
 " My sweet lady," said he, accordingly, " we have had 
 the pond dragged. No Mr. Sly. And the fisherman 
 who keeps the punt assures us that he has not been 
 there all day." 
 
 " Audacious falsehood ! " said the widow, her eyes 
 flashing fire. " Go, heartless man ! who dares to trifle 
 thus with the feelings of a respectable and unprotected 
 woman. Go, sir, you 're only fit for the love of a Dolly 
 Coddlins ! " She pronounced the Coddlins with & 
 withering sarcasm that struck the captain aghast ; and,
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 89 
 
 Bailing out of the room, she left her tea untasted, and did 
 not wish either of the military gentlemen good night. 
 
 But, gentles, an' ye know the delicate fibre of woman's 
 heart, ye will not in very sooth believe that such events 
 as those we have described such tempests of passion 
 fierce winds of woe blinding lightnings of tremen- 
 dous joy and tremendous grief could pass over one 
 frail flower and leave it all unscathed. No ! Grief kills 
 as joy doth. Doth not the scorching sun nip the rose- 
 bud as well as the bitter wind? As Mrs. Sigourney 
 sweetly sings : 
 
 " Ah ! the heart is a soft and a delicate thing ; 
 Ah ! the heart is a lute with a thrilling string ; 
 A spirit that floats on a gossamer's wing ! " 
 
 Such was Fatima's heart. In a word, the preceding 
 events had a powerful effect upon her nervous system, 
 and she was ordered much quiet and sal-volatile by her 
 skilful medical attendant, Dr. Glauber. 
 
 To be so ardently, passionately loved as she was, to 
 know that Frederick had twice plunged into death from 
 attachment to her, was to awaken in her bosom " a thrill- 
 ing string," indeed ! Could she witness such attachment 
 and not be touched by it ? She was touched by it, 
 she was influenced by the virtues, by the passion, by the 
 misfortunes, of Frederick : but then he was so abomina- 
 bly ugly that she could not she could not consent to 
 become his bride ! 
 
 She told Dr. Sly so. " I respect and esteem your 
 nephew," said she; "but my resolve is made. I will 
 continue faithful to that blessed saint whose monument
 
 90 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 is ever before my eyes " (she pointed to the churchyard 
 as she spoke). "Leave this poor tortured heart in 
 quiet. It has already suffered more than most hearts 
 could bear. I will repose under the shadow of that 
 tomb until I am called to rest within it, to rest by the 
 side of my Bluebeard ! " 
 
 The ranunculuses, rhododendra, and polyanthuses, 
 which ornamented that mausoleum, had somehow been 
 suffered to run greatly to seed during the last few 
 months, and it was with no slight self-accusation that 
 she acknowledged this fact on visiting "the garden of 
 the grave," as she called it ; and she scolded the beadle 
 soundly for neglecting his duty towards it. He promised 
 obedience for the future, dug out all the weeds that 
 were creeping round the family vault, and (having charge 
 of the key) entered that awful place, and swept and 
 dusted the melancholy contents of the tomb. 
 
 Next morning, the widow came down to breakfast 
 looking very pale. She had passed a bad night; she 
 had had awful dreams ; she had heard a voice call her 
 thrice at midnight. " Pooh ! my dear, it 's only ner- 
 vousness," said sceptical Sister Anne. 
 
 Here John Thomas, the footman, entered, and said 
 the beadle was in the hall, looking in a very strange way. 
 He had been about the house since daybreak, and in- 
 sisted on seeing Mrs. Bluebeard. "Let him enter," 
 said that lady, prepared for some great mystery. The 
 beadle came ; he was pale as death ; his hair was dishev- 
 elled, and his cocked hat out of order. " What have 
 you to say ? " said the lady, trembling. 
 
 Before beginning, he fell down on his knees.
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 91 
 
 " Yesterday," said he, " according to your ladyship's 
 orders, I dug up the flower-beds of the family vault, 
 dusted the vault and the the coffins (added he, trem- 
 bling) inside. Me and John Sexton did it together, and 
 polished up the plate quite beautiful." 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, don't allude to it," cried the 
 widow, turning pale. 
 
 "Well, my lady, I locked the door, came away, and 
 found in my hurry for I wanted to beat two little boys 
 what was playing at marbles on Alderman Paunch's 
 monyment I found, my lady, I'd forgot my cane. 
 
 " I could n't get John Sexton to go back with me till 
 this morning, and I did n't like to go alone, and so we 
 went this morning ; and what do you think I found ? I 
 found his honor's coffin turned round, and the cane 
 broke in two. Here 's the cane ! " 
 
 "Ah!" screamed the widow, "take it away, take 
 it away ! " 
 
 " Well, what does this prove," said Sister Anne, " but 
 that somebody moved the coffin, and broke the cane ? " 
 
 " Somebody ! who 's somebody ? " said the beadle, star- 
 ing round about him. And all of a sudden he started 
 back with a tremendous roar, that made the ladies scream 
 and all the glasses on the sideboard jingle, and cried, 
 "That's the man!" 
 
 He pointed to the portrait of Bluebeard, which stood 
 over the jingling glasses on the sideboard. " That 's the 
 man I saw last night walking round the vault, as I 'm a 
 living sinner. I saw him a-walking round and round, 
 and, when I went up to speak to him, I 'm blessed if he 
 didn't go in at the iron gate, which opened afore him
 
 92 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 like like winking, and then in at the vault door, which 
 I 'd double-locked, my lady, and bolted inside, I '11 
 take my oath on it ! " 
 
 " Perhaps you had given him the key ? " suggested 
 Sister Anne. 
 
 " It 's never been out of my pocket. Here it is," 
 cried the beadle; "I'll have no more to do with it." 
 And he flung down the ponderous key, amidst another 
 scream from Widow Bluebeard. 
 
 " At what hour did you see him ? " gasped she. 
 
 " At twelve o'clock, of course." 
 
 " It must have been at that very hour," said she, " I 
 heard the voice." 
 
 " What voice ? " said Anne. 
 
 " A voice that called, ' Fatima ! Fatima ! Fatima ! ' 
 three times, as plain as ever voice did." 
 
 " It did n't speak to me," said the beadle ; " it only 
 nodded its head, and wagged its head and beard." 
 
 " W w was it a bl ue beard ? " said the widow. 
 
 " Powder-blue, ma'am, as I 've a soul to save ! " 
 
 Dr. Drench was of course instantly sent for. But 
 what are the medicaments of the apothecary in a case 
 where the grave gives up its dead? Dr. Sly arrived, 
 and he offered ghostly ah ! too ghostly consolation. 
 He said he believed in them. His own grandmother had 
 appeared to his grandfather several times before he 
 married again. He could not doubt that supernatural 
 agencies were possible, even frequent. 
 
 " Suppose he were to appear to me alone," ejaculated 
 the widow, " I should die of fright." 
 
 The doctor looked particularly arch. " The best way
 
 BLUEBEABD'S GHOST. 93 
 
 in these cases, my dear madam," said he, " the best way 
 for unprotected ladies is to get a husband. I never 
 heard of a first husband's ghost appearing to a woman 
 and her second husband in my life. In all history there 
 is no account of one." 
 
 " Ah ! why should I be afraid of seeing my Bluebeard 
 again ? " said the widow ; and the doctor retired quite 
 pleased, for the lady was evidently thinking of a second 
 husband. 
 
 " The captain would be a better protector for me cer- 
 tainly than Mr. Sly," thought the lady, with a sigh ; 
 "but Mr. Sly will certainly kill himself, and will the 
 captain be a match for two ghosts ? Sly will kill him- 
 self; but ah! the captain won't." And the widow 
 thought with pangs of bitter mortification of Dolly Cod- 
 dlins. How how should these distracting circum- 
 stances be brought to an end? 
 
 She retired to rest that night not without a tremor, 
 to bed, but not to sleep. At midnight a voice was heard 
 in her room, crying, "Fatima! Fatima! Fatima!" in 
 awful accents. The doors banged to and fro, the bells 
 began to ring, the maids went up and down stairs skurry- 
 ing and screaming, and gave warning in a body. John 
 Thomas, as pale as death, declared that he found Blue- 
 beard's yeomanry sword, that hung in the hall, drawn, 
 and on the ground ; and the sticking-plaster miniature in 
 Mr. Bluebeard's bedroom was found turned topsy-turvy ! 
 
 " It is some trick," said the obstinate and incredulous 
 Sister Anne. " To-night I will come and sleep with you, 
 sister." And the night came, and the two sisters retired 
 together.
 
 94 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 'T was a wild night. The wind howling without went 
 crashing through the old trees of the old rookery round 
 about the old church. The long bedroom windows 
 went thump thumping ; the moon could be seen through 
 them lighting up the graves with their ghastly shadows ; 
 the yew-tree, cut into the shape of a bird, looked par- 
 ticularly dreadful, and bent and swayed as if it would 
 peck something off that other yew-tree which was of the 
 shape of a dumb-waiter. The bells at midnight began to 
 ring as usual, the doors clapped, jingle jingle down 
 came a suit of armor in the hall, and a voice came and 
 cried, " Eatima ! Fatima ! Fatima ! look, look, look ; the 
 tomb, the tomb, the tomb ! " 
 
 She looked. The vault door was open, and there in 
 the moonlight stood Bluebeard, exactly as he was repre- 
 sented in the picture, in his yeomanry dress, his face 
 frightfully pale, and his great blue beard curling over 
 his chest, as awful as Mr. Muntz's. 
 
 Sister Anne saw the vision as well as Fatima. We 
 shall spare the account of their terrors and screams. 
 Strange to say, John Thomas, who slept in the attic 
 above his mistress's bedroom, declared he was on the 
 watch all night, and had seen nothing in the churchyard, 
 and heard no sort of voices in the house. 
 
 And now the question came, What could the ghost 
 want by appearing? "Is there anything," exclaimed 
 the unhappy and perplexed Fatima, " that he would have 
 me do ? It is well to say ' now, now, now,' and to show 
 himself; but what is it that makes my blessed husband 
 so uneasy in his grave?" And all parties consulted 
 agreed that it was a very sensible question.
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 95 
 
 John Thomas, the footman, whose excessive terror at 
 the appearance of the ghost had procured him his mis- 
 tress's confidence, advised Mr. Screw, the butler, who 
 communicated with Mrs. Baggs, the housekeeper, who 
 condescended to impart her observations to Mrs. Bustle, 
 the lady's-maid, John Thomas, I say, decidedly ad- 
 vised that my lady should consult a cunning man. 
 There was such a man in town ; he had prophesied who 
 should marry his (John Thomas's) cousin ; he had cured 
 Farmer Horn's cattle, which were evidently bewitched ; 
 he could raise ghosts, and make them speak, and he 
 therefore was the very person to be consulted in the 
 present juncture. 
 
 " What nonsense is this you have been talking to the 
 maids, John Thomas, about the conjurer who lives in 
 in " 
 
 " In Hangman's Lane, ma'am, where the gibbet used 
 to stand," replied John, who was bringing in the muf- 
 fins. " It 's no nonsense, my lady. Every word as that 
 man says comes true, and he knows everything." 
 
 " I desire you will not frighten the girls in the ser- 
 vants' hall with any of those silly stories," said the 
 widow ; and the meaning of this speech may, of course, 
 at once be guessed. It was that the widow meant to 
 consult the conjurer that very night. Sister Anne said 
 that she would never, under such circumstances, desert 
 her dear Fatima. John Thomas was summoned to at- 
 tend the ladies with a dark lantern, and forth they set 
 on their perilous visit to the conjurer at his dreadful 
 abode in Hangman's Lane.
 
 96 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 What took place at that frightful interview has never 
 been entirely known. But there was no disturbance in 
 the house on the night after. The bells slept quite 
 quietly, the doors did not bang in the least, twelve 
 o'clock struck, and no ghost appeared in the churchyard, 
 and the whole family had a quiet night. The widow 
 attributed this to a sprig of rosemary which the wizard 
 gave her, and a horseshoe which she flung into the gar- 
 den round the family vault, and which would keep any 
 ghost quiet. 
 
 It happened the next day, that, going to her milliner's, 
 Sister Anne met a gentleman who has been before men- 
 tioned in this story, Ensign Trippet by name ; and, in- 
 deed, if the truth must be known, it somehow happened 
 that she met the ensign somewhere every day of the week. 
 
 "What news of the ghost, my dearest Miss Shaca- 
 bac ? " said he (you may guess on what terms the two 
 young people were by the manner in which Mr. Trippet 
 addressed the lady) ; " has Bluebeard's ghost frightened 
 your sister into any more fits, or set the bells a-ring- 
 ing?" 
 
 Sister Anne, with a very grave air, told him that he 
 must not joke on so awful a subject, that the ghost had 
 been laid for a while, that a cunning man had told her 
 sister things so wonderful that any man must believe in 
 them ; that among other things, he had shown to Fatima 
 her future husband. 
 
 "Had," said the ensign, "he black whiskers and a 
 red coat?" 
 
 "No," answered Anne, with a sigh, "he had red 
 whiskers and a black coat."
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 97 
 
 " It can't be that rascal Sly ! " cried the ensign. But 
 Anne only sighed more deeply and would not answer 
 yes or no. " You may tell the poor captain," she said, 
 " there is no hope for him, and all he has left is to hang 
 himself." 
 
 " He shall cut the throat of Sly first, though," replied 
 Mr. Trippet, fiercely. But Anne said things were not 
 decided as yet. Fatima was exceedingly restive, and 
 unwilling to acquiesce in the idea of being married to 
 Mr. Sly ; she had asked for further authority. The wiz- 
 ard said he could bring her own husband from the grave 
 to point out her second bridegroom, who shall be, can 
 be, must be, no other than Frederick Sly. 
 
 "It is a trick," said the ensign; but Anne was too 
 much frightened by the preceding evening's occurrences 
 to say so. "To-night," she said, "the grave will tell 
 all." And she left Ensign Trippet in a very solemn and 
 affecting way. 
 
 At midnight, three figures were seen to issue from 
 Widow Bluebeard's house, and pass through the church- 
 yard turnstile, and so away among the graves. 
 
 " To call up a ghost is bad enough," said the wizard ; 
 "to make him speak is awful. I recommend you, 
 ma'am, to beware, for such curiosity has been fatal to 
 many. There was one Arabian necromancer of my 
 acquaintance who tried to make a ghost speak, and was 
 torn in pieces on the spot. There was another person 
 who did hear a ghost speak certainly, but came away 
 from the interview deaf and dumb. There was an- 
 other" 
 
 VOL. ix. 5 o
 
 98 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " Never mind," says Mrs. Bluebeard, all her old curi- 
 osity aroused, " see him and hear him I will. Have n't 
 I seen him and heard him, too, already ? When he 's 
 audible and visible, then's the time." 
 
 " But when you heard him," said the necromancer, 
 " he was invisible, and when you saw him he was inau- 
 dible ; so make up your mind what you will ask him, for 
 ghosts will stand no shilly-shallying. I knew a stut- 
 tering man who was flung down by a ghost, and " 
 
 " I have made up my mind," said Fatima, interrupting 
 him. 
 
 " To ask him what husband you shall take," whispered 
 Anne. 
 
 Fatima only turned red, and Sister Anne squeezed her 
 hand ; they passed into the graveyard in silence. 
 
 There was no moon ; the night was pitch dark. They 
 threaded their way through the graves, stumbling over 
 them here and there. An owl was toowhooing from the 
 church tower, a dog was howling somewhere, a cock 
 began to crow, as they will sometimes at twelve o'clock 
 at night. 
 
 "Make haste," said the wizard. "Decide whether 
 you will go on or not." 
 
 " Let us go back, sister," said Anne. 
 
 " I will go on," said Fatima. " I should die if I gave 
 it up, I feel I should." 
 
 " Here 's the gate ; kneel down," said the wizard. 
 The women knelt down. 
 
 " Will you see your first husband or your second bus- 
 band?" 
 
 " I will see Bluebeard first," said the widow ; " I shall
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 99 
 
 know then whether this be a mockery, or you have the 
 power you pretend to." 
 
 At this the wizard uttered an incantation, so frightful, 
 and of such incomprehensible words, that it is impossible 
 for any mortal man to repeat them. And at the end of 
 what seemed to be a versicle of his chant he called Blue- 
 beard. There was no noise but the moaning of the wind 
 in the trees, and the toowhooing of the owl in the tower. 
 
 At the end of the second verse he paused again, and 
 called Bluebeard. The cock began to crow, the dog be- 
 gan to howl, a watchman in the town began to cry out 
 the hour, and there came from the vault within a hollow 
 groan, and a dreadful voice said, " Who wants me ? " 
 
 Kneeling in front of the tomb, the necromancer began 
 the third verse. As he spoke, the former phenomena 
 were still to be remarked. As he continued, a number 
 of ghosts rose from their graves, and advanced round 
 the kneeling figures in a circle. As he concluded, with 
 a loud bang the door of the vault flew open, and there 
 in blue light stood Bluebeard in his blue uniform, wav- 
 ing his blue sword, and flashing his blue eyes round 
 about ! 
 
 " Speak now, or you are lost," said the necromancer 
 to Fatima. But, for the first time in her life, she had 
 not a word to say. Sister Anne, too, was dumb with 
 terror. And, as the awful figure advanced towards them 
 as they were kneeling, the sister thought all was over 
 with them, and Fatima once more had occasion to repent 
 her fatal curiosity. 
 
 The figure advanced, saying, in dreadful accents, 
 " Fatima ! Fatima ! Fatima ! wherefore am I called from
 
 100 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 my grave?" when all of a sudden down dropped his 
 sword, down the ghost of Bluebeard went on his knees, 
 and, clasping his hands together, roared out, " Murder, 
 mercy ! " as loud as man could roar. 
 
 Six other ghosts stood round the kneeling group. 
 " Why do you call me from the tomb ? " said the first ; 
 "Who dares disturb my grave?" said the second; 
 " Seize him and away with him ! " cried the third. 
 " Murder, mercy ! " still roared the ghost of Bluebeard, 
 as the white-robed spirits advanced and caught hold of 
 him. 
 
 " It 's only Tom Trippet," said a voice at Anne's ear. 
 
 "And your very humble servant," said a voice well 
 known to Mrs. Bluebeard ; and they helped the ladies to 
 rise, while the other ghosts seized Bluebeard. The nec- 
 romancer took to his heels and got off; he was found 
 to be no other than Mr. Claptrap, the manager of the 
 theatre. 
 
 It was some time before the ghost of Bluebeard could 
 recover from the fainting-fit into which he had been 
 plunged when seized by the opposition ghosts in white ; 
 and while they were ducking him at the pump his blue 
 beard came off, and he was discovered to be who do 
 you think ? Why, Mr. Sly, to be sure ; and it appears 
 that John Thomas, the footman, had lent him the uni- 
 form, and had clapped the doors, and rung the bells, and 
 spoken down the chimney ; and it was Mr. Claptrap who 
 gave Mr. Sly the blue fire and the theatre gong ; and he 
 went to London next morning by the coach ; and, as it 
 was discovered that the story concerning Miss Coddlins 
 was a shameful calumny, why, of course, the widow mar-
 
 BLUEBEARD'S GHOST. 101 
 
 ried Captain Blackbeard. Dr. Sly married them, and 
 has always declared that he knew nothing of his neph- 
 ew's doings, and wondered that he has not tried to com- 
 mit suicide since his last disappointment. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Trippet are likewise living happily to- 
 gether, and this, I am given to understand, is the ulti- 
 mate fate of a family in whom we were all very much 
 interested in early life. 
 
 You will say that the story is not probable. Pshaw ! 
 Is n't it written in a book ? and is it a whit less probable 
 than the first part of the tale P
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 
 
 BY HORACE SMITH. 
 
 give a picnic party a fair chance of success, 
 it must be almost impromptu : projected at 
 twelve o'clock at night at the earliest, exe- 
 cuted at twelve o'clock on the following day at the 
 latest; and even then the odds are fearfully against it. 
 The climate of England is not remarkable for knowing 
 its own mind ; nor is the weather " so fixed in its re- 
 solve " but that a bright August moon, suspended in a 
 clear sky, may be lady-usher to a morn of fog, sleet, and 
 drizzle. Then, again, but this being tender ground, we 
 will only hint at the possibility of such a change, a lady 
 of the intended party might quit the drawing-room at 
 night in the sweetest humor imaginable, and make her 
 appearance at breakfast in a less amiable mood, or, per- 
 haps, " prefer taking breakfast in her own room," 
 from which notice husbands sometimes infer that ^"V. 
 a change has taken place. 
 
 Mr. Claudius Bagshaw, a retired silk mercer, in the 
 vicinity of London, determined, notwithstanding all these 
 arguments, to have a picnic party on the 24th of August,
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 103 
 
 his wedding-day. On the 3d of July, Mr. Claudius Bag- 
 shaw, after eating his breakfast and reading the Morning 
 Post, looked out of his parlor window to watch the 
 horticultural pursuits of his better part. Mr. Bagshaw 
 had become a member of one of the " march-of-intellect- 
 societies," and was confident that the picnic would turn 
 out a very pleasant thing. 
 
 "How fortunate we shall be, dear," said Mr. Bag- 
 shaw, "how happy we shall be, if the weather should 
 be as fine on our wedding-day as it is now." 
 
 "True, love," replied Mrs. Bagshaw; "but this is 
 only the 3d of July, and, as the anniversary of our 
 happy day is the 24th of August, the weather may 
 change." 
 
 This proposition Mr. Bagshaw did not attempt to 
 deny. 
 
 The Bagshaws were the happiest couple in the world. 
 Being blessed with the negative blessing of no offspring, 
 the stream of their affections was not diverted into little 
 channels, but ebbed and flowed in one uninterrupted tide 
 reciprocally from bosom to bosom. They never dis- 
 puted, they never quarrelled. Yes, they did sometimes, 
 but then it was from a mutual over-anxiety to please. 
 Each was afraid to pronounce a choice, or a preference, 
 lest it might be disagreeable to the other; and hence 
 there occasionally did arise little bickerings, and tiffings, 
 and minings, which were quite as unpleasant in their 
 effects, and sometimes as difficult to settle, as quarrels 
 originating in less amiable causes. 
 
 " But," said Mr. Bagshaw, referring to the barometer, 
 "the instrument for indicating the present state and
 
 104 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 probable changes of the weather still maintains its ele- 
 vation, and I tell you what, dear, if the weather should 
 be preposterous on the 24th of August, suppose, instead 
 of going into the north, as we did last year, we migrate 
 into Kent or Surrey ? Instead of dining at Hampstead. 
 as we did last year, shall we go to Greenwich, or to Put- 
 ney, and eat little fishes ? " 
 
 " Whichever you like, love," was the lady's answer to 
 the so-intended question. 
 
 " But I put it to your choice, dear." 
 
 " Either or neither please yourself, love, and you 
 are sure you will please me." 
 
 " Pshaw ! but it is for the gratification of your or, 
 more properly speaking, for your gratification. I submit 
 to you an alternative for the purpose of election; and 
 you know, Jane, I repudiate indifference, even as con- 
 cerning or applying to trifles." 
 
 "You know, Claudius, we have but one wish, and 
 that is to please each other ; so do you decide." 
 
 "But, Mrs. Bagshaw, I must promulgate a request 
 that having, as I have, no desire but to please you 
 you will " 
 
 "How, sir! would you force me to choose, when I 
 am so obedient as to choose that you should have the 
 choice entirely your own way ? This treatment of me 
 is monstrous ! " 
 
 And here Mrs. Bagshaw did what is usual and proper 
 for ladies to do on such occasions, she burst into 
 tears. 
 
 "Why, then, madam, to use a strong expression, I 
 must say that "
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 105 
 
 But a loud rap at the street-door prevented the ut- 
 terance of an " expression," the force of which would 
 doubtless have humbled Mrs. Claudius Bagshaw down 
 to the very dust. 
 
 "Claudius," said the lady, hastily drying her eyes, 
 " that is Uncle John's knock. We '11 go to Gre Put 
 
 Greenwich, love." 
 
 " That 's well, dear ; and be assured, love, that noth- 
 ing is so adverse to the constitution of what Locke 
 emphatically calls the human mind, philosophically con- 
 sidered, as to persevere in that state of indecision which 
 
 that whereof but we will not go to either ; Uncle 
 John shall select the locality." 
 
 Uncle John was a bachelor of fifty-five, possessing 
 twelve thousand pounds, a strong disinclination to part 
 with any of them, a good heart, and a bad temper. 
 
 " Good morning t' ye, good folks ; as usual, I perceive, 
 billing and cooing." 
 
 The Bagshaws had by this time got together in a 
 corner of the garden, and were lovingly occupied in 
 trimming the same pot of sweet peas. 
 
 "Quite the contrary, Uncle John," said Mrs. Bag- 
 shaw. "Claudius and I have just had one of our 
 most desperate quarrels." 
 
 And here the happy pair giggled, and exchanged looks 
 which were meant to imply that their most desperate 
 quarrels were mere kitten's play; and that Uncle John 
 did so interpret them, he made manifest by a knowing 
 shake of his forefinger. 
 
 "The fact is, sir, Jane and I talk of commemorating 
 the annual recurrence of the anniversary of our wedding'
 
 106 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 day, at some place a leetle farther in the country; but 
 our minds are in a perfect vacuum concerning the iden- 
 tity of the spot. Now, sir, will you reduce the place to 
 a mathematical certainty, and be one of the party ? " 
 
 " Why um no ; these things are expensive ; we 
 come home at night with a guinea apiece less in our 
 pockets, and I don't see the good of that." 
 
 " I have it ! " cried Bagshaw ; " we '11 make it a pic- 
 nic ; that won't be expensive." 
 
 " Then I 'm with you, Bagshaw, with all my heart, 
 and it shall be alfresco." 
 
 "There or anywhere else you please, sir," gravely 
 replied the learned member of the universal-knowledge- 
 warehouse. 
 
 "Uncle John means in the open air, Claudius; that 
 will be delightful." 
 
 "Charming ! " rejoined Bagshaw. 
 
 It may be inquired why Uncle John, who objected to 
 the disbursement of a guinea for a day's pleasure, should 
 so readily have yielded at the suggestion of a picnic. 
 Uncle John possessed a neat little morocco pocket-case, 
 containing a dozen silver spoons, and silver-handled 
 knives and forks, and although we are told that these 
 implements are of later invention than fingers, there is, 
 nevertheless, a very general bias in their favor, for the 
 purpose to which they are applied. Now, Uncle John 
 being aware of the prevalence of their employment, it 
 was for this reason he never objected to make one of a 
 picnic party; for, whilst others contributed chickens, 
 pigeon-pies, or wines, it being the principle of such 
 parties that each member should furnish something to
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 107 
 
 the feast, Uncle John invariably contributed the use 
 of his knives, forks, and spoons. 
 
 The whole morning was spent in debating on who 
 should be invited to partake of this " pleasantest tiling 
 that ever was," and examining into their several preten- 
 sions, and their powers of contributing to the amuse- 
 ments of the day ; when, at length, the honor of nomi- 
 nation was conferred upon the persons following, and 
 for the reasons assigned : 
 
 Sir Thomas and Lady Grouts because of their title, 
 which would give an air to the thing (Sir Thomas, 
 formerly a corn-chandler, having been knighted for car- 
 rying up an address in the late reign). Miss Euphe- 
 mia Grouts, daughter No. 1 who would bring her 
 guitar. Miss Corinna Grouts, ditto No. 2 because 
 she would sing. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Snodgrass Mr. Snodgrass being vice- 
 president of the grand junction march-of-intellect society. 
 Mr. Frederick Snodgrass, their son (lately called to the 
 chancery bar), who would bring his flute. 
 
 Messrs. Wrench and son (eminent dentists). The 
 father to be invited because he was charming company, 
 and the son, a dead bore, because the father would be 
 offended if he were not. And, lastly, 
 
 Miss Snubbleston, a rich maiden lady of forty-four, for 
 no other earthly qualification whatever than her carriage, 
 which (to use Bagshaw's words) would carry herself and 
 us three, and also transplant a large portion of the prov- 
 ender to the place of rendezvous. 
 
 Bagshaw having made out a fair copy of this list, 
 somewhat in the shape of a bill of parcels, this, the
 
 108 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 first step towards the "pleasantest thing that ever 
 was," was taken with entire satisfaction. 
 
 "Why, Bagshaw," exclaimed Uncle John, who had 
 cast up the numbers, "including our three selves, we 
 shall be thirteen ! " 
 
 The member of the institution perceived the cause of 
 his alarm ! but having been lectured out of prejudices re- 
 specting matters of greater moment than this, he prepared 
 a look of ineffable contempt as his only reply ; however, 
 happening to think of Uncle John's twelve thousand 
 pounds, he suppressed it, and just contented himself with, 
 
 " And what then, sir ? " 
 
 " Why, then, sir, that is a risk I won't run ; and un- 
 less we can manage to I have it ! the very man. How 
 came we to forget him ? The very man ! You know 
 Jack Richards ? " 
 
 The last four words were delivered in a tone implying 
 the utter impossibility of any human creature being un- 
 acquainted with Jack Richards. 
 
 " Not in the least, sir. I never heard of him." 
 
 " What ! never heard of Ja The thing is im- 
 possible; everybody knows Jack Richards. The very 
 thing for us ; such a wit ! such a wag ! he is the life 
 and soul of everything. Should he be unengaged for 
 the 24th of August. But he is so caught up ! I was 
 invited to meet him at dinner last Sunday at Jones's, 
 but he did n't come. Such a disappointment to us ! 
 However, I shall meet him on Thursday at the Tims's, 
 if he should but keep his promise, and then " 
 
 "But, uncle," said Mrs. Bagshaw, "hadn't you bet- 
 ter send him an invitation at once ? "
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 109 
 
 " I '11 do better still, my dear ; I '11 call at his lodg- 
 ings, and if I find him hanging loose, I '11 bring him to 
 dine with you to-day." Then, turning to Bagshaw, he 
 added, " That a man like you should n't know Jack 
 Richards, is surprising ! " 
 
 As this was evidently pointed at Mr. Claudius Bag- 
 shaw in his capacity of member of a learned body, Bag- 
 shaw pursed up his mouth into a mock-modesty smile, 
 and slightly bowed. Off went Uncle John in quest of 
 Jack Richards ; and, that the pleasantest thing in the 
 world might not suffer by delay, off went Mr. Bagshaw 
 to apprize the Snodgrasses, the Groutses, and the rest 
 of the nominees ; and, more important still, off went the 
 lady to the poulterer's, to inquire whether he was likely 
 to have any nice pigeons for a pie, about the twenty-third 
 of next month. The dinner-hour arrived, and so did 
 Uncle John, but with a face of unspeakable woe. 
 
 " I feared how it would be." 
 
 " What ! can't he be with us on the 24th ? " inquired 
 both the Bagshaws at the same instant. 
 
 " He will if he can ; but he won't promise. But to- 
 day ! However, it serves us right ; we were unwise 
 to indulge a hope of his coming at so short a notice. 
 He has almost engaged himself to you for Sunday fort- 
 night, though. What a creature it is! he has given 
 me such a pain in my side ! " 
 
 " Something he said that almost killed you with laugh- 
 ing ? Repeat it, uncle, repeat it." 
 
 " Why, no, he did n't say anything particular ; but he 
 has a knack of poking one in the ribs, in his comical 
 way, and sometimes he hurts you."
 
 110 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 We intended to describe Jack Richards at length; 
 Uncle John's accidental notice of this trait has, most 
 probably, rendered that trouble unnecessary. Indeed, 
 we feel that we need scarcely add to it, that he can sing 
 a devilish good song (and everybody knows what is 
 meant by that), and imitated the inimitable Mathews's 
 imitations of the actors, not even excepting his imitation 
 of Tate Wilkinson's imitation of Garrick. 
 
 Except the uncertainty of Jack Richards, the result 
 of the morning's occupation was satisfactory. Bagshaw, 
 still retaining his old business-like habits of activity and 
 industry, had contrived to wait on every person named 
 in the list, all of whom had promised their attendance ; 
 and Mrs. Bagshaw had received from the poulterer a 
 positive assurance that he would raise heaven and earth 
 to supply her with pigeons on the 23d of the ensuing 
 August ! 
 
 Committees were forthwith summoned. First, a com- 
 mittee to consider of the whereabout. At this, after an 
 evening of polite squabbling, which had nearly put an 
 end to the project altogether, Twickenham meadows 
 received the honor of selection, nem. con. as Bagshaw 
 said. Next, lest it should happen, as it did once happen, 
 for want of such preconcert, that a picnic party of ten 
 found themselves at their place of meeting with ten fillets 
 of veal and ten hams, Mr. Bagshaw called a committee 
 of "provender." Here it was settled that the Snod- 
 grasses should contribute four chickens and a tongue ; 
 the Bagshaws, their pigeon-pie; Wrench and son, a 
 ham; Sir Thomas Grouts, a hamper of his own choice 
 wine; Miss Snubbleston, a basket of fruit and pastry;
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. Ill 
 
 Uncle John, his silver spoons, knives, and forks; and 
 Jack Richards his charming company. And lastly 
 came the committee for general purposes ! At this im- 
 portant meeting, it was agreed that the party proceed 
 to Twickenham by water; that to save the trouble of 
 loading and unloading, Miss Snubbleston's carriage con- 
 vey the hampers, etc., direct to the place appointed, 
 the said carriage, moreover, serving to bring the ladies 
 to town, should the evening prove cold ; that, for the 
 water-music, the following programme be adopted: 1. 
 On reaching Vauxhall Bridge, the concert to commence 
 with Madame Pasta's grand scena in " Medea," previous 
 to the murder of the children, by Miss Corinna Grouts. 
 2. Nicholson's grand flute concerto in five sharps, by 
 Mr. Frederick Snodgrass. 3. Grand aria, with varia- 
 tions, guitar, by Miss Euphemia Grouts. 4. Sweet 
 Bird; accompaniment, flute obligato, Miss C. G. and 
 Mr. F. S. and 5. The Dettingen Te Deum (arranged 
 for three voices, by Mr. F. S.) by Miss Euphemia, Miss 
 Corinna, and Mr. Frederick Snodgrass. The "inter- 
 stices," as Mr. Bagshaw called them, to be filled up by 
 the amusing talents of the elder Wrench and Uncle 
 John's friend. And, lastly, that the company do assem- 
 ble at Mr. Bagshaw' s on the morning of the 24th of 
 August, at ten o'clock precisely, in order to have the 
 advantage of the tide both ways. 
 
 Three days prior to the important 24th, Mr. Bagshaw 
 went to engage the boat, but, in a squabble with the 
 boatman, Mr. B. got a black eye. This was the first 
 mishap. 
 
 Restless and impatient though you be, depend upon
 
 112 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 it, there is not a day of the whole three hundred and 
 sixty-five will put itself, in the slightest degree, out of 
 the way, or appear one second before its appointed time, 
 for your gratification. O that people would consider 
 this, and await events with patience ! Certainly Mr. 
 Bagshaw did not. The night of the 23d to him ap- 
 peared an age. His repeater was in his hand every ten 
 minutes. He thought the morning would never dawn, 
 but he was mistaken ; it did ; and as fine a morning 
 as if it had been made on purpose to favor his excur- 
 sion. By six o'clock he was dressed ! by eight the 
 contributions from all the members had arrived, and 
 were ranged in the passage. There was their own 
 pigeon-pie, carefully packed in brown paper and straw ; 
 Sir Thomas's hamper of his own choice wine ; and the 
 rest. Everything promised fairly. The young ladies 
 and Mr. Frederick had had thirty rehearsals of their 
 grand arias and concertos, and were perfect to a demir 
 semiquaver ; Jack Richards would certainly come ; and 
 the only drawback upon Mr. Bagshaw's personal enjoy- 
 ment but nothing in this world is perfect was the 
 necessity he was under of wearing his green shade, 
 which would totally deprive him of the pleasure of con- 
 templating the beauties of the Thames scenery, a 
 thing he had set his heart upon. Nine ! ten ! 
 
 " No one here yet ! Jane, my love, we shall infallibly 
 lose the tide." And for the next quarter of an hour the 
 place of the poor repeater was no sinecure. 
 
 A knock ! Mr. and Mrs. Snodgrass and Mr. Fred- 
 erick. Another ! The whole family of the Groutses. 
 Next came Mr. Charles Wrench.
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 113 
 
 " Bless us ! Mr. Charles," said Bagshaw, " where is 
 your father ? " 
 
 Now, Mr. Wrench, senior, was an agreeable old den- 
 tist, always gay, generally humorous, sometimes witty ; 
 he could sketch characters as well as draw teeth ; and, 
 on occasions of this kind, was invaluable. The son was 
 a mere donkey ; a silly, simpering, well-dressed young 
 gentleman, the owner of no more than the eighth of an 
 idea, and of a very fine set of teeth, which he constantly 
 exhibited like a sign or advertisement of his shop. 
 Appended to everything he uttered were a preface and 
 postscript, in the form of a sort of Billy-goat grin. 
 
 " He ! he ! he ! he ! Fayther regrets emezingly he 
 caint come, being called to attend the Duchess of Dil- 
 borough. He ! he ! he ! he ! " 
 
 As we have already said that it was in pure compli- 
 ment to the father that the son was invited, and not at 
 all for the sake of his own company, his presence was 
 a grievous aggravation of the disappointment. 
 
 The next knock announced Miss Snubbleston. But 
 where was her carriage ? Why, it had been newly var- 
 nished, and they might scratch her panels with the ham- 
 pers ; and then she was afraid of her springs. So here 
 was Miss Snubbleston without her carriage, for the con- 
 venience of which alone she had been invited, considered 
 by the rest in exactly the same light as young Mr. 
 Wrench without old Mr. Wrench, id est, a damper.^ 
 A new arrangement was the necessary consequence ; and 
 the baskets, under the superintendence of a servant, 
 were jolted down in a hackney-coach, to be embarked at 
 Westminster. But Miss Snubbleston brought with her
 
 114 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 a substitute, which was by no means a compensation. 
 Cupid, her wretched, little, barking, yelping, Dutch pug, 
 had eaten something that had disagreed with him, and 
 his fair mistress would not " for worlds " have left him 
 at home while he was so indisposed. Well, no one 
 chose to be the first to object to the intruder, so Cu- 
 pid was received. 
 
 " But where can Uncle John and his friend be ? We 
 shall lose the tide, that 's certain," was scarcely uttered 
 by Mr. Bagshaw, when in came our uncle, together with 
 the long-expected Jack Richards. 
 
 The usual introductions over, Mr. Richards saluted 
 everybody with the self-sufficient swagger of a vulgar 
 lion. 
 
 " The day smiles auspicious, sir," said Bagshaw, who 
 thought it requisite he should throw off something fine 
 to so celebrated a person. 
 
 "Smile? a broad grin, I call it, sir." And here 
 was a general laugh. 
 
 "0, excellent!" 
 
 " Capital ! " 
 
 Uncle John, proud of his friend, whispered in Bag- 
 shaw's ear, " You see, Jack 's beginning." And now 
 hats and gloves were in motion. 
 
 " You have got your flute, Frederick ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother," was the reply. 
 
 " Lau, ma," cried Miss Corinna, " if I have n't come 
 without ' Sweet Bird/ and my scena from ' Medea,' I 
 declare." 
 
 As these were indispensable to the amusements of the 
 day, a servant was despatched for them. He could n't
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 115 
 
 be gone longer than half an hour. Half an hour ! 
 thought Bagshaw ; 't is eleven now ; and the tide. 
 But the servant was absent a few minutes beyond the 
 half-hour, and poor Bagshaw suffered severely from that 
 gnawing impatience, amounting almost to pain, which 
 every mother's son of us has experienced upon occasions 
 of greater or less importance than this. They were 
 again at the very point of starting, when a message was 
 brought to Mrs. Snodgrass that little Master Charles 
 had cut his thumb dreadfully ! What was to be done ? 
 Mrs. Snodgrass vowed she should n't be easy in her mind 
 the whole day unless she knew the extent of the mischief; 
 and as they only lived in Euston Square, and she could 
 be there and back again in twenty minutes, she would 
 herself go see what really was the matter, and away 
 she went. Twenty minutes ! During all this time, 
 Bagshaw but who would attempt to describe anguish 
 indescribable ? At length he was relieved by the return 
 of Mrs. Snodgrass ; but, to the horror and consternation 
 of himself and of all present, she introduced the afore- 
 said Master Charles, an ugly, ill-tempered, blubbering 
 little brat of seven years old, with a bloated red face, 
 scrubby white hair, and red eyes ; and with the interest- 
 ing appendage of a thick slice of bread and butter in his 
 hand. 
 
 " I 'm sure you '11 pardon this liberty," said the affec- 
 tionate mamma ; " but poor Charley has cut himself very 
 much, and he would not be pacified till I consented to 
 take him with us. He has promised to be very good. 
 There, don't cry any more, darling ! " and, accordingly, 
 the urchin roared with tenfold vigor. There were no
 
 116 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 particular manifestations of joy at this arrival; and it is 
 just possible, although nothing was uttered to that effect, 
 that there did exist a general and cordial wish that 
 young Master Snodgrass were sprawling at the bottom 
 of the deepest well in England. Uncle John, indeed, 
 did litter something about the pug and the child two 
 such nuisances people bringing their brats into grown- 
 up company. 
 
 At length the procession set out: the Bagshaws, 
 Uncle John, and Jack Richards bringing up the rear in 
 a hackney-coach. On reaching the corner of the street, 
 Mrs. Bagshaw called out to the driver to stop. 
 
 " What is the matter, dear ? " said Bagshaw. 
 
 " Your eye-lotion, love." 
 
 " Well, never mind that, sweet." 
 
 "Claudius, I shall be miserable if you go without 
 it. Dr. Nooth desired you would use it every two 
 hours. I must insist, now, for my sake, love, such 
 an eye as he has got, Mr. Richards ! " 
 
 So away went Bagshaw to the Lake of Lausanne 
 Lodge for the lotion, which, as it always happens when 
 folks are in a hurry, it took him a quarter of an hour to 
 find. 
 
 They were now fairly on the road. 
 
 " What a smell of garlic ! " exclaimed Uncle John ; 
 " it is intolerable ! " 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Mr. Richards, " do you perceive 
 it P 'T is a fine Italian sausage I bought at Morel's, as 
 my contribution. We shall find it an excellent relish in 
 the country." And he exhibited his purchase, enveloped 
 in. a brown paper.
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 117 
 
 " Pha ! shocking ! 't is a perfect nuisance ! Put it 
 into your pocket again, or throw it out at the window." 
 But Mr. Richards preferred obeying the first command. 
 
 Apropos of contributions "Uncle, have you brought 
 your spoons ? " 
 
 "Here they are," replied Uncle, at the same time 
 drawing from his pocket a parcel in size and form very 
 closely resembling Mr. Richards's offensive contribu- 
 tion. 
 
 On arriving at Westminster Bridge, they found the 
 rest of the party already seated in the barge, and the 
 first sound that saluted their ears was an intimation that, 
 owing to their being two hours behind time (it was now 
 past twelve), they should hardly save the tide. 
 
 " I knew it would be so," said Bagshaw, with more of 
 discontent than he had thought to experience, consider- 
 ing the pains he had taken that everything should be 
 well ordered. 
 
 As Uncle John was stepping into the boat, Richards, 
 with great dexterity, exchanged parcels with him, put- 
 ting the Italian sausage into Uncle John's pocket and 
 the spoons into his own; enhancing the wit of the 
 manoeuvre by whispering to the Bagshaws, who, with 
 infinite delight, had observed it. 
 
 "Hang me," said Richards, "but he shall have 
 enough of the garlic ! " 
 
 The old gentleman was quite unconscious of the oper- 
 ation, as Richards adroitly diverted his attention from it 
 by giving him one of his facetious pokes in the ribs, 
 which nearly bent him double, and drew a roar of laugh- 
 ter from every one else.
 
 118 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 Just as they were pushing off, their attention was 
 attracted by a loud howling. It proceeded from a large 
 Newfoundland dog which was standing at the water's 
 
 " Confound it ! " cried Richards, " that 's my Carlo ! 
 He has followed me, unperceived, all the way from home 
 I would not lose him for fifty pounds. I must take 
 him back pray put me ashore. This is very provok- 
 ing though he is a very quiet dog ! " 
 
 There was no mistaking this hint. Already were 
 there two nuisances on board, Master Charles and the 
 Dutch pug : but as they were to choose between Jack 
 Richards with bis dog, or no Jack Richards (or in other 
 words, no life and soul of the party), it was presently 
 decided that Carlo should be invited to a seat on the 
 hampers, which were stowed at the head of the boat, 
 Uncle John having first extracted from Mr. Richards an 
 assurance that their new guest would lie there as still as 
 a mouse. This complaisance was amply rewarded by 
 a speedy display of Mr. Richards' s powers of entertain- 
 ment. As soon as they reached the middle of the river 
 Jack Richards suddenly jumped up, for the purpose of 
 frightening Miss Snubbleston ; a jest at which everybody 
 else would have laughed, had not their own lives been 
 endangered by it. Even his great admirer suggested to 
 him that once of that was enough. His next joke was one 
 of a more intellectual character. Though he had never 
 till this day seen Sir Thomas, he had accidentally heard 
 something about his former trade. 
 
 " What is the difference between Lord Eldon and Sh 
 Thomas Grouts ? " Nobody could tell.
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 119 
 
 " One is an ex-chancellor, the other is an ex-chan- 
 dler." Everybody laughed, except the Grouts family. 
 
 This was succeeded by another thrust in Uncle John's 
 side ; after which came a pun, which we shall not re- 
 cord, as the effect of it was to force the ladies to cough 
 and look into the water, the gentlemen to look at each 
 other, and Mrs. Snodgrass to whisper to Mrs. Bag- 
 shaw, 
 
 " Who ig this Mr. Richards ? " 
 
 Indeed, there would have been no end to his pleas- 
 antries had they not been interrupted by a request that 
 Miss Corinna would open the concert, as they were fast 
 approaching Vauxhall Bridge. Mr. Bagshaw (looking 
 at the programme, which he had drawn out on paper 
 ruled with red and blue lines) objected to this, as it 
 would disturb the previous arrangement, according to 
 which the concert was not to commence till they were 
 through the bridge. This objection was overruled, and 
 the fair Corinna unrolled the music, for which the ser- 
 vant had been despatched with so much haste. Miss 
 Corinna screamed. What was the matter ? 
 
 " They had not sent the grand scena from Medea, 
 after all, but a wrong piece ! " And the pains she had 
 taken to be perfect in it ! 
 
 " Could not Miss Corinna sing it from memory ? " 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 " How careless of you, Corinna ! then sing what they 
 have sent." 
 
 " Why, ma," said Corinna, with tears in her eyes, and 
 holding up the unfortunate sheets, "why, bless me, 
 ma, I can't sing the overture to Der Freyschutz ! "
 
 120 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 The difficulty of such a performance being readily 
 admitted, Mr. Frederick Snodgrass declared himself but 
 too happy to comply with the calls for his concerto in 
 five sharps, which stood next on the list ; and with the 
 air of one well satisfied that an abundance of admiration 
 jmd applause would reward his efforts, he drew forth his 
 flute, when, lo ! one of the joints was missing ! This 
 accident was nearly fatal to the musical entertainments 
 of the day ; for not only was the concerto thereby 
 rendered impracticable, but " Sweet Bird " with the flute- 
 accompaniment obligate, was put hors de combat. Dis- 
 appointment having, by this, been carried to its utter- 
 most bounds, the announcement that two strings of the 
 guitar had gone was received with an indifference 
 almost stoical ; and every one was grateful to Miss 
 Euphemia for so willingly undertaking (the whispered 
 menaces of Lady Grouts being heard by nobody but the 
 young lady herself) to do all that could be done under 
 such untoward circumstances. She would endeavor to 
 accompany herself through a little ballad ; but she 
 failed. 
 
 Mr. Claudius Bagshaw, with all his literature, science, 
 and philosophy, now, for the first time, wondered how 
 anything could fail, so much trouble having been taken 
 to insure success. Drawing forth his repeater, he 
 ahem'd, and just muttered, 
 
 " Unaccountable ! Hem ! upon my word ! One 
 o'clock, and no pleasure yet ! " 
 
 " One o'clock ! " echoed his spouse ; " then 't is time 
 for your eye, dear ! " And Bagshaw was compelled not 
 only to suffer his damaged optics to be dabbled by his
 
 THE PICNIC PAHTY. 121 
 
 tormentingly affectionate wife, but to submit again to be 
 hoodwinked, in spite of his entreaties to the contrary, and 
 his pathetic assurances that he had not yet seen a bit of 
 the prospect ; a thing he had set his heart upon. 
 
 Now occurred a dead silence of some minutes. A 
 steamboat rushed by. Bagshaw seized this opportunity 
 to make a display of his scientific acquirements ; and 
 this he did with the greater avidity, as he had long 
 wished to astonish Vice-President Snodgrass. Besides, 
 in the event of his oifering to deliver a course of lec- 
 tures at the institution, the vice-president might bear 
 evidence to his capabilities for the purpose, his ac- 
 quaintance not only with the facts, but with the terms 
 of science. Whether those terms were always correctly 
 applied, we confess ourselves not sufficiently learned to 
 pronounce. 
 
 " How wondrous is the science of mechanism ! how 
 variegated its progeny, how simple, yet how compound ! 
 I am propelled to the consideration of this subject by 
 having optically perceived that ingenious nautical instru- 
 ment, which has just now flown along like a mammoth, 
 that monster of the deep ! You ask me how are steam- 
 boats propagated ? in other words, how is such an infi- 
 nite and immovable body inveigled along its course? 
 I will explain it to you. It is by the power of friction : 
 that is to say, the two wheels, or paddles, turning dia- 
 metrically, or at the same moment, on the axioms, and 
 repressing by the rotundity of their motion the action 
 of the menstruum in which the machine floats, water 
 being, in a philosophical sense, a powerful non-con- 
 ductor, it is clear, that in proportion as is the revulsion 
 
 VOL. ix. 6
 
 122 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 so is the progression ; and as is the centrifugal force, so 
 is the " 
 
 " Pooh ! " cried Uncle John, impatiently ; " let us have 
 some music." 
 
 " I have an apprehension, Bagshaw," said the vice- 
 president, "that I should not presume to dispute with 
 you, that you are wrong in your theory of the centrifu- 
 gal force of the axioms. However, we will discuss that 
 point at the grand-junction. But come, Frederick, the 
 ' Dettingen Te Deum.' " 
 
 Frederick and the young ladies having, by many re- 
 hearsals, perfected themselves in the performance of this 
 piece, instantly complied. Scarcely had they reached the 
 fourth bar, when Jack Richards, who had not for a long 
 time perpetrated a joke, produced a harsh, brassy-toned, 
 German eolina, and " blew a blast so loud and shrill," 
 that the Dutch pug began to bark, Carlo to howl, and 
 the other nuisance, Master Charles, to cry. The German 
 eolina was of itself bad enough, but these congregated 
 noises were intolerable. Uncle John aimed a desperate 
 blow with a large apple, which he was just about to bite, 
 at the head of Carlo, who, in order to give his lungs fair 
 play, was standing on all fours on the hampers. The 
 apple missed the dog, and went some distance beyond 
 him into the water. Mr. Carlo, attributing to Uncle 
 John a kinder feeling than that which actually prompted 
 the proceeding, looked upon it as a good-natured expedi- 
 ent to afford him an opportunity of adding his mite td the 
 amusements of the day, by displaying a specimen of his 
 training. Without waiting for a second hit, he plunged 
 into the river, seized the apple, and, paddling up the side
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 123 
 
 of the boat with the prize triumphantly exhibited in his 
 jaws, to the consternation of the whole party, he scram- 
 bled in between Uncle John and his master, dropped the 
 apple upon the floor, distributed a copious supply of 
 Thames water amongst the affrighted beholders, squeezed 
 his way through them as best he could, and, with an air of 
 infinite self-satisfaction, resumed his place on the hampers. 
 
 Had Mr. Jack Richards, the owner of the dog, been at 
 the bottom of the Thames a week before this delightful 
 24th, not one of the party, Mr. Richards himself ex- 
 cepted, would have felt in the slightest degree concerned ; 
 but since, with a common regard to politeness, they 
 could not explicitly tell him so, they contented them- 
 selves with bestowing upon Mr. Carlo every term of op- 
 probrium, every form of execration, which good manners 
 will allow, leaving it to the sagacity of " the life and 
 soul of the company " to apply them to himself, if so it 
 might be agreeable to him. Poor fellow ! he felt the 
 awkwardness of his situation, and figuratively, as well as 
 literally speaking, this exploit of his dog threw a damp 
 upon him, as it had done upon every one else. 
 
 For some time the picnickers pursued their way in sol- 
 emn silence. At length Bagshaw, perceiving that there 
 would be very little pleasure if matters were allowed to 
 go on in this way, exclaimed, 
 
 " An intelligent observer, not imbued with the knowl- 
 edge of our intentions, would indicate us to be a combi- 
 nation of perturbed spirits, rowed by Charon across the 
 river Tiber." 
 
 In cases of this kind, the essential is to break the ice. 
 Conversation was now resumed.
 
 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " All ! ha ! " said the vice-president, " Sion-house." 
 
 " The residuum of the Northumberlands," said Clau- 
 dius, " one of the most genealogical and antique families 
 in England." 
 
 And here, having put forth so much classical and his- 
 torical lore, almost in a breath, he marked his own satis- 
 faction by a short, single cough. The vice-president said 
 nothing, but he thought to himself, "There is much 
 more in this Bagshaw than I suspected." 
 
 Jack Richards was up again. 
 
 " Come, what 's done can't be helped ; but, upon my 
 soul ! I am sorry at being the innocent cause of throwing 
 cold water on the party." 
 
 "Cold water, indeed! look at me, sir," said Miss 
 Snubbleston, with tears in her eyes, and exhibiting her 
 ci-devant shoulder-of-mutton sleeves, which, but half an 
 hour before as stiff and stately as starch could make 
 them, were now hanging loose and flabby about her 
 skinny arms. 
 
 "Too bad, Jack," said Uncle John, "to bring that 
 cursed Carlo of yours ! " 
 
 Carlo, perceiving that he was the subject of conversa- 
 tion, was instantly on his legs, his eye steadily fixed upon 
 Uncle John, evidently expecting a signal for a second 
 plunge. The alarm was general, and every tongue joined 
 in the scream of " Lie down, sir ! lie down ! " 
 
 Uncle John, who had been more than once offended by 
 the odor from his friend's garlic sausage, and who had 
 on each and every such occasion vented an exclamation 
 of disgust, to the great amusement of Mr. Richards (who 
 chuckled with delight to think of the exchange he had
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 125 
 
 secretly effected) here, in the very middle of the stream, 
 resolved to rid himself of the annoyance. Unperceived 
 by any one, he gently drew the parcel from Richards's 
 coat-pocket, and let it drop into the water! Like 
 King Richard's pierced coffin, once in, it soon found the 
 way to the bottom. Uncle John could scarcely restrain 
 his inclination to laugh aloud ; however, he contrived to 
 assume an air of indifference, and whistled part of a 
 tune. 
 
 Arrived at Twickenham, the boatmen were ordered to 
 pull up to a beautiful meadow, sloping down to the 
 water's edge. There was no time to lose, they had had 
 no pleasure yet, so Bagshaw entreated that every one 
 "would put his shoulder to the wheel, and be on the 
 qui rala." In an instant a krge heavy hamper was 
 landed, but as, in compliance with Bagshaw's request, 
 every one did something to help, a scene of confusion 
 was the consequence, and numerous pieces of crockery 
 were invalided ere the cloth was properly spread, and the 
 dishes, plates, and glasses distributed. But for the feast. 
 Mr. Snodgrass's basket was opened, and out of it were 
 taken four remarkably fine chickens, and a tongue 
 uncooked ! There was but one mode of accounting for 
 this trifling omission. Mr. Snodgrass's Betty was a 
 downright matter-of-fact person, who obeyed orders to 
 the very letter. Having been told, the evening before, to 
 get four fine chickens for roasting, together with a tongue, 
 and to pack them, next morning, in a basket, she did so 
 literally and strictly ; but, as she had received no distinct 
 orders to dress them, to have done so she would have 
 deemed an impertinent departure fcom her instructions.
 
 126 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 Well; since people in a high state of civilization, like 
 Mr. Claudius Bagshaw and his friends, cannot eat raw 
 chickens, they did the only thing they could under the 
 circumstances, they grumbled exceedingly, and put 
 them back again into the basket. This was a serious 
 deduction in the important point of quantity, and Uncle 
 John felt a slight touch of remorse at having thrown, as 
 he thought, his friend's Italian sausage into the Thames. 
 However, there was still provision in the garrison. But 
 the run of luck in events, as at a game of whist, may be 
 against you ; and when it is so, be assured that human 
 prudence and foresight remarkable as even Mrs. Bag- 
 shaw's, who bespoke her pigeons seven weeks before she 
 wanted them avail but little. When the packages 
 were first stowed in the boat, the pigeon-pie was inadver- 
 tently placed at the bottom, and everything else, finishing 
 with the large heavy hamper of crockery, with Carlo on 
 that, upon it ; so that when it was taken up it appeared 
 a chaotic mass of pie-crust, broken china, pigeons, brown 
 paper, beefsteak, eggs, and straw ! 
 
 " Now this is enough to provoke a saint ! " said Bag- 
 shaw ; and no one attempting to deny the position, with 
 this salvo for his own character of philosophic patience, 
 he indulged himself in the full expression of his vexation 
 and sorrow. After a minute examination, he declared 
 the pie to be " a complete squash," and that nobody 
 could venture to eat it but at the imminent risk of being 
 choked. As he was about to throw it over the hedge, 
 Miss Snubbleston, seized with an unusual fit of gen- 
 erosity, called out to him, 
 
 " What are you doing ? Though it is n't fit for us
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 127 
 
 to eat, it will be quite a treat to the poor watermen. 
 I dare say, poor souls, they don't often get pigeon- 
 pie." 
 
 But the good genius of Mr. Carlo prevailed ; and the 
 truth of the adage, " 't is an ill wind that blows nobody 
 good," was confirmed in his mind as he found himself 
 busily employed in the ingenious operation of separating 
 pigeon from porcelain. It was, doubtless, extremely ill- 
 bred in one dog not to invite another, and Cupid ex- 
 pressed his sense of the slight by a long-continued yell, 
 which drew down upon him, from the equally disap- 
 pointed bipeds of the company, sundry wishes, the positive 
 accomplishment of which would not have tended much to 
 his personal happiness. The next basket was opened. 
 Things were not altogether in a desperate state. Mr. 
 Wrench's ham was in perfect order, and that, with Miss 
 Snubbleston's salad, and some bread, and could it be 
 possible ! After so much preparation, and Mr. Bagshaw's 
 committee of " provender " to boot, that no one should 
 have thought of so obvious a requisite as bread ! There 
 would not be time to send Mr. Bagshaw to Twickenham 
 town to procure some, for it was getting late, and if they 
 lost the tide, they should be on the water till midnight, 
 and they did not like the appearance of the sky, which 
 was by no means so blue as it had hitherto been. How- 
 ever, the want of bread did not much signify ; they could 
 make a shift with Miss Snubbleston's biscuits and pound- 
 cakes. But Uncle John did not come out on an excur- 
 sion of pleasure to make shift ; no more did Bagshaw ; no 
 more did any of the others. There was nothing else to 
 be done ; so where is Miss Snubbleston's basket ? And
 
 128 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 where is Master Charles ? gracious ! Don't be alarmed, 
 the precious rarity is in no danger. He was soon dis- 
 covered behind a tree, whither he had dragged the fruit 
 and cakes, and was engaged with all his might and main, 
 in an endeavor, with a piece of stick, to force out an 
 apple. In this attempt, as it was presently seen, the 
 interesting child had cracked a bottle, the contents of 
 which merely a preparation of oil, vinegar, and mustard 
 for the salad were quietly dribbling through the pound- 
 cakes, biscuits, and fruit. Similar aspirations to those 
 which had lately been so cordially expressed for the 
 Dutch pug were now most devoutly formed in behalf of 
 Master Charles. 
 
 "This comes of bringing their plaguy brats with 
 them," said Uncle and Bagshaw. 
 
 Whilst this scene was going on, Jack Richards, per- 
 ceiving that the service of the table was incomplete, 
 bethought him of Uncle John's silver-handled knives and 
 forks and spoons ; he felt first in one pocket, and then in 
 the other, then he ran down to search the boat, then he 
 rummaged the baskets. 
 
 " Jack, my boy," hallooed Uncle John, " don't trouble 
 yourself, you '11 never see that again." 
 
 " What, sir ? " 
 
 " I could not bear the smell of it any longer, so I slyly 
 drew it out of your pocket, and dexterously let it fall into 
 the deepest part of the Thames." 
 
 And here Uncle John chuckled, and looked about him 
 for applause. 
 
 " Bless me, sir ! Don't say so why bless my 
 heart you don't know before we got into the boat,
 
 THE PICNIC PARTY. 129 
 
 I put the sausage into your pocket, and your case of 
 cutlery into my own ! " 
 
 There was a general burst of laughter against Uncle 
 John. He turned as pale as nay, paler than anything 
 that has ever yet been dragged into the comparison ; for 
 an instant he stood stock-still, then thrust his hand into 
 his pocket, drew forth the unfortunate substitute, and at 
 
 the same time exclaiming D tion ! dashed it violently 
 
 to the ground. He next buttoned his coat from the bot- 
 tom to the top, pulled down his cuffs, whispered to his 
 no longer admired Jack Richards, " You shall hear from 
 
 me, Mr. ," and saying aloud to Bagshaw, " This 
 
 comes of your confounded party of pleasure, sir," away 
 he went, and returned to town outside a Twickenham 
 coach ; resolving by the way to call out that Mr. Rich- 
 ards, and to eject the Bagshaws from the snug corner 
 they held in his last will and testament. 
 
 This explosion seemed to have banished pleasure for 
 that day. They were all, more or less, out of humor ; 
 and instead of making the best of things, as they had 
 hitherto done, they now made the worst of them. Sir 
 Thomas's hamper of his choice wine (which, by the by, 
 he purchased at a cheap shop for the occasion) was 
 opened ; and slices of ham were cut with the only knife 
 and fork. Jack Richards tried to be facetious, but it 
 would not do. He gave Bagshaw a poke in the ribs, 
 which was received with a very formal, " Sir, I must beg 
 " To Mr. Wrench, junior, he said, 
 
 " You have not spoken much to-day but you have 
 made amends for your silence d' ye take ? Your ham 
 is good, though your tongue is not worth much ! " 
 6 I
 
 130 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 Instead of laughing, Mr. Wrench simpered something 
 about impertinent liberties and satisfaction. On being 
 invited by Sir Thomas to a second glass of his old East 
 India, he said that one was a dose had rather not 
 double the Cape ; and at the first glass of champagne, he 
 inquired whether there had been a plentiful supply of 
 gooseberries that year. In short, whether it were that 
 the company knew not how to appreciate his style of wit 
 and pleasantry, or that he was in reality a very disagree- 
 able person, the fact is that but hold ! let us say 
 nothing ill of him ; he died last week, at Folkestone, of a 
 surfeit of goose, in the forty-ninth year of his age. For 
 the consolation of such as were amused by him, and re- 
 gret his loss, be it remembered that there are still to be 
 found many Jack Richards in this world. 
 
 As we have said, they now resolved to make the worst 
 of everything ; the grass was damp, the gnats were trou- 
 blesome, Carlo's nose was in everybody's face, Cupid's 
 teeth at everybody's calves, and Master Charles was ill 
 of the many sour apples ; it was growing late, and no 
 good could come of sitting longer in the open air. They 
 re-embarked. By the time they reached Putney it 
 was pitch dark, and the tide was setting against them. 
 They moved on in mute impatience, for there was a 
 slight sprinkling of rain. It now fell in torrents. Mas- 
 ter Charles grew frightened and screamed. Cupid 
 yelped, and Carlo howled. Accompanied the rest of 
 the way by these pleasing sounds, at one in the morning 
 (two hours and a half later than they intended) they 
 arrived at Westminster stairs, dull, dreary, drowsy, dis- 
 contented, and drenched.
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE, 
 
 As related by Mr. Michael Heffernan, Master of the National 
 School at Tallymactaggart, in the County Leitrim, to 
 a Mend, during his official visit to Dublin for 
 the purpose of studying political econ- 
 omy, in the spring of 1833. 
 
 BY SAMUEL FERGUSON. 
 
 I. 
 
 HOW FATHER TOM WENT TO TAKE POT-LUCK. AT THE 
 VATICAN. 
 
 HEN his Biv'reiice was in Room, ov coorse 
 the Pope axed him to take pot-look wid him. 
 More be token, it was on a Friday; but, for 
 all that, there was plenty of mate ; for the Pope gev 
 himself an absolution from the fast on account of the 
 great company that was in it, at laste so I 'm tould. 
 Howandiver, there 's no fast on the dhrink, anyhow, 
 glory be to God ! and so, as they wor sitting, afther 
 dinner, taking their sup together, says the Pope, says 
 he, " Thomaus," for the Pope, you know, spakes that 
 away, and all as one as ov uz, " Thomaus a lanna" 
 says he, "I'm tould you welt them English heretics 
 out ov the face."
 
 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " You may say that," says his Eiv'rence to him again. 
 "Be my soul," says he, " if I put your Holiness undher 
 the table, you won't be the first Pope I floored." 
 
 Well, his Holiness laughed like to split ; for you 
 know, Pope was the great Prodesan that Father Tom 
 put down upon Purgathory ; and ov coorse they knew 
 all the ins and outs of the conthravarsy at Boom. 
 "Faix, Thomaus," says he, smiling across the table 
 at him mighty agreeable, " it 's no lie what they tell 
 me, that yourself is the pleasant man over the dhrop ov 
 good liquor." 
 
 " Would you like to thry ? " says his Riv'rence. 
 
 " Sure, and am n't I thrying all I can ? " says the 
 Pope. " Sorra betther bottle ov wine 's betuxt this and 
 Salamanca, nor there 's fornenst you on the table ; it 's 
 raal Lachrymachrystal, every spudh ov it." 
 
 " It 's mortial could," says Father Tom. 
 
 " Well, man alive," says the Pope, " sure, and here 's 
 the best ov good claret in the cut decanther." 
 
 " Not maining to make little ov the claret, your Holi- 
 ness," says his Riv'rence, " I would prefir some hot 
 wather and sugar, wid a glass ov spirits through it, if 
 convanient." 
 
 " Hand me over the bottle of brandy," says the Pope 
 to his head butler, " and fetch up the materi'ls," says he. 
 
 " Ah, then, your Holiness," says his Riv'rence, mighty 
 eager, " maybe you 'd have a dhrop ov the native in your 
 cellar ? Sure, it 's all one throuble," says he, " and, 
 troth, I dunna how it is, but brandy always plays the 
 puck wid my inthrails." 
 
 " Ton my conscience, then," says the Pope, " it 'a
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 133 
 
 very sorry I am, Misther Maguire," says he, "that it 
 is n't in my power to plase you ; for I 'm sure and oer- 
 taint that there 's not as much whiskey in Room this 
 blessed minit as 'ud blind the eye ov a midge." 
 
 " Well, in troth, your Holiness," says Father Tom, 
 " I knewn there was no use in axing ; only," says he, 
 " I did n't know how else to exqueeze the liberty I 
 tuck," says he, " of bringing a small taste," says he, 
 "of the real stuff," says he, hauling out an imperi'l 
 quart bottle out ov his coat-pocket ; " that never seen 
 the face ov a guager," says he, setting it down on the 
 table fornenst the Pope ; " and if you '11 jist thry the 
 full ov a thimble ov it, and it does n't rise the cockles 
 ov your Holiness's heart, why then, my name," says he, 
 " is n't Tom Maguire ! " and with that he out's wid the 
 cork. 
 
 Well, the Pope at first was going to get vexed at 
 Father Tom for fetching dhrink thataway in his pocket, 
 as if there was n't lashins in the house : so says he, 
 " Misther Maguire," says he, " I 'd have you to com- 
 prehind the differ betuxt an inwitation to dinner from 
 the succissor of Saint Pether, and from a common 
 nagur of a Prodesan squirean that maybe hasn't 
 liquor enough in his cupboard to wet more nor his 
 own heretical whistle. That may be the way wid them 
 that you wisit in Leithrim," says he, " and in Roscom- 
 mon ; and I 'd let you know the differ in the prisint 
 case," says he, " only that you 're a champion ov the 
 Church and entitled to laniency. So," says he, " as the 
 liquor 's come, let it stay. And, in troth, I 'm curi's 
 myself," says he, getting mighty soft when he found
 
 134 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 the delightful smell ov the putteen, " in inwistigating 
 the composition ov distilled liquors ; it 's a branch ov 
 natural philosophy," says he, taking up the bottle and 
 putting it to his blessed nose. 
 
 Ah! my dear, the very first snuff he got ov it, he 
 cried out, the dear man, " Blessed Vargin, but it has the 
 divine smell!" and crossed himself and the bottle half 
 a dozen times running. 
 
 " Well, sure enough, it 's the blessed liquor now," 
 says his Riv'rence, " and so there can be no harm any 
 way in mixing a dandy of punch ; and," says he, stirring 
 up the materi'ls wid his goolden meeddlar, for every- 
 thing at the Pope's table, to the very shcrew for draw- 
 ing the corks, was ov vergin goold, " if I might make 
 boold," says he, "to spake on so deep a subjic afore 
 your Holiness, I think it 'ud considherably whacilitate 
 the inwestigation ov its chemisthry and phwarmaceutics, 
 if you 'd jist thry the laste sup in life ov it inwardly." 
 
 "Well, then, suppose I do make the same expiri- 
 ment," says the Pope, in a much more condescinding 
 way nor you 'd have expected, and wid that he mixes 
 himself a real stiff facer. 
 
 "Now, your Holiness," says Father Tom, "this bein' 
 the first time you ever dispinsed them chymicals," says 
 he, " I '11 jist make bould to lay doun one rule ov or- 
 thography," says he, "for conwhounding them, secun- 
 dum mortem." 
 
 " What 's that ? " says the Pope. 
 
 " Put in the sperits first," says his Riv'rence ; " and 
 then put in the sugar ; and remember, every dhrop ov 
 wather you put in after that, spoils the punch."
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 135 
 
 " Glory be to God ! " says the Pope, not minding a 
 word Father Tom was saying. " Glory be to God ! " 
 says he, smacking his lips. " I never knewn what dhrink 
 was afore," says he. " It bates the Lachymalchrystal 
 out ov the face ! " says he, " it 's Necthar itself, it is, 
 so it is ! " says he, wiping his epistolical mouth wid the 
 cuff ov his coat. 
 
 " Ton my secret honor," says his Eiv'rence, " I 'm 
 raally glad to see your Holiness set so much to your 
 satiswhaction ; especially," says he, "as, for fear ov 
 accidents, I tuck the liberty of fetching the fellow ov 
 that small vesshel," says he, " in my other coat-pocket. 
 So devil a fear of our running dhry till the but-end of 
 the evening, anyhow," says he. 
 
 "Dhraw your stool into the fire, Misther Maguire," 
 says the Pope, " for faix," says he, " I 'm bent on ani- 
 lizing the metaphwysics ov this phinomenon. Come, 
 man alive, clear off," says he, "you're not dhrinking 
 at all." 
 
 " Is it dhrink ? " says his Biv'rence ; " by Gorra, 
 your Holiness," says he, " I 'd dhrink wid you till the 
 cows 'ud be coming home in the morning." 
 
 So wid that they tackled to, to the second fugil 
 apiece, and fell into a lamed discourse. 
 
 But it 's time for me now to be off to the lecthir at 
 the Boord. O, my sorra light upon you, Doctiici 
 Whately, wid your plitical econimy and your hydheras- 
 tatics ! What the divul use has a poor hedge-masther 
 like me wid sich deep laming as is only fit for the likes 
 ov them two I left over their second tumbler ? How- 
 anoiver, wishing I was like them, in regard ov the sup ov
 
 136 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 dhrink, anyhow, I must brake off my norration for the 
 prisint ; but when I see you again, I '11 tell you how 
 Father Tom made a hare ov the Pope that evening, both 
 in theology and the cube root. 
 
 II. 
 
 HOW FATHER TOM SACKED HIS HOLINESS IN THEOLOGY 
 AND LOGIC. 
 
 WELL, the leather's over, and I 'm kilt out and out. 
 My bitther curse be upon the man that invinted the 
 same Boord ! I thought onc't I 'd fadomed the say ov 
 throuble ; and that was when I got through fractions at 
 ould Mat Kavanagh's school, in Firdramore, God be 
 good to poor Mat's sowl, though he did deny the cause 
 the day he suffered ! but its fluxions itself we 're set to 
 bottom now, sink or shwim ! May I never die if my 
 head is n't as throughother, as anything wid their ordi- 
 nals and cardinals, and, begad, it 's all nothing to the 
 econimy lecthir that I have to go to at two o'clock. 
 Howandiver, I must n't forget that we left his Riv'rence 
 and his Holiness sitting fornenst one another in the par- 
 lor ov the Vatican, jist afther mixing their second tumbler. 
 
 When they had got well down into the same, they fell, 
 as I was telling you, into learned discourse. For you see, 
 the Pope was curious to find out whether Father Tom 
 was the great theologinall that people said; and says 
 he " Mister Maguire," says he, " What answer do you 
 make to the heretics when they quote them passidges 
 agin thransubstantiation out ov the Fathers ? " says he. 
 
 " Why," says his Biv'rence, " as there is no sich pas-
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 137 
 
 sidges I make myself mighty asy about them ; but if you 
 want to know how I dispose ov them," says he, "just 
 repate one ov them, and I '11 show you how to cata- 
 pomphericate it in two shakes." 
 
 " Why then," says the Pope, " myself disremimbers 
 the particlar passidges they allidge out ov them ould 
 felleys," says he, "though sure enough they're more 
 numerous nor edifying, so we '11 jist suppose that a 
 heretic was to find sich a saying as this in Austin, 
 'Every sensible man knows that thransubstantiation is 
 a lie,' or this out of Tertullian or Plutarch, ' the 
 bishop ov Rome is a common imposther,' now tell 
 me, could you answer him ? " 
 
 " As easy as kiss," says his Riv'rence. " In the first, 
 we 're to understand that the exprission, ' Every sinsible 
 man,' signifies simply, ' every man that judges by his 
 nath'ral sinses ' ; and we all know that nobody follying 
 them seven deludhers could ever find out the mysthery 
 that 's in it, if somebody did n't come in to his assistance 
 wid an eighth sinse, which is the only sinse to be de- 
 pended on, being the sinse ov the Church. So that, 
 regarding the first quotation which your Holiness has 
 supposed, it makes clane for us, and tee-totally agin the 
 heretics." 
 
 " That 's the explanation sure enough," says his Holi- 
 ness ; " and now what div you say to my being a com- 
 mon imposther ? " 
 
 "Faix, I think," says his Riv'rence, "wid all submis- 
 sion to the better judgment ov the learned father that 
 your Holiness has quoted, he 'd have been a thrifle 
 nearer the thruth, if he had said that the bishop ov
 
 138 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 Rome is the grand imposther and top-sawyer in that 
 line over us all." 
 
 " What do you mane ? " says the Pope, getting quite 
 red in the face. 
 
 "What would I mane," says his Riv'rence, as com- 
 posed as a docther ov physic, " but that your Holiness 
 is at the head ov all them, troth I had a'most forgot 
 I wasn't a bishop myself," says he, the deludher was 
 going to say, as the head of all uz, " that has the gift 
 ov laving on hands. For sure," says he, "imposther and 
 imposithir is all one, so you 're only to undherstand ma- 
 nnum, and the job is done. Auvuich ! " says he, " if any 
 heretic 'ud go for to cast up sich a passidge as that agin 
 me, I 'd soon give him a p'lite art ov cutting a stick to 
 welt his own back wid." 
 
 " 'Pon my apostolical word," says the Pope, " you 've 
 cleared up them two pints in a most satiswhactery man- 
 ner." 
 
 " You see," says his Biv'rence, by this time they wor 
 mixing their third tumbler, "the writings of them 
 Fathers is to be thrated wid great veneration; and it 
 'ud be the height ov presumption in any one to sit down 
 to interpret them widout providing himself wid a genteel 
 assortment ov the best figures of rhetoric, sich as met- 
 tonymy, hyperbol, cattychraysis, prolipsis, mettylipsis, 
 superbaton, pollysyndreton, hustheronprotheron, proso- 
 dypeia and the like, in ordher that he may never be at 
 a loss for shuitable sintiments when he comes to their 
 high-flown passidges. For unless we thrate them Fathers 
 liberally to a handsome allowance ov thropes and figures 
 they 'd set up heresy at onc't, so they would."
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 139 
 
 " It 's thru for you," says the Pope ; " the figures ov 
 spache is the pillars ov the Church." 
 
 " Bedad," says his Biv'rence, " I dunna what we 'd 
 do widout them at all." 
 
 "Which one do you prefir?" says the Pope; "that 
 is," says he, " which figure of spache do you find most 
 usefullest when you 're hard set ? " 
 
 "Metaphour's very good," says his Riv'rence, "and 
 so 's mettonymy, and I 've known prosodypeia stand 
 to me at a pinch mighty well, but for a constancy, su- 
 perbaton's the figure for my money. Devil be in me," 
 says he, " but I 'd prove black white as fast as a horse 
 'ud throt wid only a good stick ov superbaton." 
 
 " Faix," says the Pope, wid a sly look, " you 'd need 
 to have it backed, I judge, wid a small piece of assur- 
 ance." 
 
 " Well now, jist for that word," says his Biv'rence, 
 " I '11 prove it widout aither one or other. Black," says 
 he, " is one thing and white is another thing. You don't 
 conthravene that? But everything is aither one thing 
 or another thing ; I defy the Apostle Paul to get over 
 that dilemma. Well ! If anything be one thing, well 
 and good ; but if it be another thing, then it 's plain it 
 is n't both things, and so can't be two things, nobody 
 can deny that. But what can't be two things must be 
 one thing, Ergo, whether it 's one thing or another 
 thing it 's all one. But black is one thing and white is 
 another thing, Ergo, black and white is all one. Quod 
 erat demonsthrandum." 
 
 " Stop a bit," says the Pope, " I can't althegither give 
 in to your second miner no your second major.."
 
 140 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 says he, and he stopped. " Faix, then," says he, get- 
 ting confused, " I don't rightly renumber where it was 
 exactly that I thought I seen the flaw in your prem- 
 ises. Howsomdiver," says he, " I don't deny that it 's a 
 good conclusion, and one that 'ud be ov materil service 
 to the Church if it was dhrawn wid a little more distinc- 
 tiveness." 
 
 " I '11 make it as plain as the nose on your Holiness's 
 face, by superbaton," says his Riv'rence. " My adver- 
 sary says, black is not another color, that is white? 
 Now that 's jist a parallel passidge wid the one out ov 
 Tartulion that me and Hayes smashed the heretics on in 
 Clarendon Sthreet. 'This is my body, that is, the fig- 
 ure ov my body.' That 's a superbaton, and we showed 
 that it ought n't to be read that way at all but this way, 
 ' This figure of my body is my body.' Jist so wid my 
 adversary's proposition, it mustn't be undherstood the 
 way it reads, by no manner of manes ; but it 's to be 
 taken this' way, ' Black, that is, white, is not another 
 color,' green, if you like, or orange, by dad, for any- 
 thing I care, for my case is proved. ' Black,' that is, 
 'white,' lave out the 'that,' by sinnalayphy, and you 
 have the orthodox conclusion, 'Black is white,' or by 
 convarsion, ' White is black.' " 
 
 " It 's as clear as mud," says the Pope. 
 
 "Bedad," says his Biv'reuce, "I'm in great humor 
 for disputin' to-night. I wisht your Holiness was a her- 
 etic jist for two minutes," says he, " till you 'd see the 
 flaking I 'd give you ! " 
 
 "Well, then, for the fun o' the thing suppose me 
 my namesake, if you like," says the Pope, laughing,
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 141 
 
 " though, by Jayminy," says he, " he 's not one that I 
 take much pride out ov." 
 
 " Very good, devil a bitther joke ever I had," says 
 his Riv'rence. " Come, then, Misther Pope," says he, 
 " hould up that purty face ov yours, and answer me this 
 question. Which 'ud be the biggest lie, if I said I seen 
 a turkey-cock lying on the broad ov his back, and pick- 
 ing the stars out ov the sky, or if I was to say that I 
 seen a gandher in the same intherrestin' posture, ray- 
 creating himself wid similar asthronomical experiments ? 
 Answer me that, you ould swaddler ? " says he. 
 
 " How durst you call me a swaddler, sir ? " says the 
 Pope, forgetting, the dear man, the part that he was 
 acting. 
 
 " Don't think to bully me ! " says his Riv'rence. " I 
 always daar to spake the truth, and it 's well known that 
 you 're nothing but a swaddling ould sent ov a saint," 
 says he, never letting on to persave that his Holiness 
 had forgot what they were agreed on. 
 
 " By all that 's good," says the Pope, " I often hard 
 ov the imperance ov you Irish afore," says he, " but I 
 never expected to be called a saint in my own house, 
 either by Irishman or Hottentot. I'll till you what, 
 Misther Maguire," says he, " if you can't keep a civil 
 tongue in your head, you had betther be walking off wid 
 yourself; for I beg lave to give you to undherstand, that 
 it won't be for the good ov your health if you call me by 
 sich an outprobrious epithet again," says he. 
 
 " O, indeed ! then things is come to a purty pass," 
 says his Riv'rence, (the dear funny soul that he ever 
 was !) " when the lik ov you compares one of the
 
 142 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 Maguires ov Tempo wid a wild Ingine ! Why, man 
 alive, the Maguires was kings ov Fermanagh three 
 thousand years afore your grandfather, that was the 
 first ov your breed that ever wore shoes and stock- 
 ings " (I 'm bound to say, in justice to the poor Prode- 
 san, that this was all spoken by his Riv'rence by way 
 of a figure ov spache), "was sint his Majesty's arrand 
 to cultivate the friendship of Prince Lee Boo in Botte- 
 ney Bay ! O, Bryan dear," says he, letting on to cry, 
 " if you were alive to hear a boddagh Sassenagh like 
 this casting up his counthry to me ov the name ov 
 Maguire." 
 
 " In the name ov God," says the Pope, very solemni- 
 ously, " what is the maning ov all this at all at all ? " 
 says he. 
 
 " Sure," says his Riv'rence, whispering to him across 
 the table, " sure, you know we 're acting a conthra- 
 warsy, and you tuck the part ov the Prodesan champion. 
 You would n't be angry wid me, I 'm sure, for sarving 
 out the heretic to the best ov my ability." 
 
 " begad, I had forgot," says the Pope, the good- 
 natured ould crethur; "sure enough, you were only 
 taking your part as a good Milesian Catholic ought 
 agin the heretic Sassenagh. Well," says he, " fire away 
 now, and I '11 put up wid as many conthroversial com- 
 pliments as you plase to pay me." 
 
 "Well, then, answer me my question, you santimo- 
 nious ould dandy," says his Riv'rence. 
 
 " In troth, then," says the Pope, " I dunna which 
 'ud be the biggest lie, to my mind," says he ; " the one 
 appears to be about as big a bounce as the other."
 
 FATHEB, TOM AND THE POPE. 143 
 
 " Why, then, you poor simpleton," says his Riv'rence, 
 " don't you persave that forbye the advantage the gan- 
 dher 'ud have in the length ov his neck, it 'ud be next 
 to empossible for the turkey-cock lying thataway to see 
 what he was about, by rason ov his djollars and other 
 accouthrements hanging back over his eyes ? The one 
 about as big a bounce as the other ! you misfortunate 
 crethur ! if you had ever larned your A B C in the- 
 ology, you 'd have known that there 's a differ betuxt 
 them two lies so great, that, begad, I would n't wondher 
 if it 'ud make a balance ov five years in purgathory to 
 the sowl that 'ud be in it. Ay, and if it was n't that 
 the Church is too liberal entirely, so she is, it 'ud cost 
 his heirs and succissors betther nor ten pounds to have 
 him out as soon as the other. Get along, man, and 
 take half a year at dogmatical theology : go and read 
 your Dens, you poor dunce, you ! " 
 
 "Raaly," says the Pope, "you're making the here- 
 tic shoes too hot to hould me. I wundher how the 
 Prodesans can stand afore you at all." 
 
 " Don't think to delude me," says his Eiv'rence, 
 " don't think to back out ov your challenge now," 
 says he, " but come to the scratch like a man, if you are 
 a man, and answer me my question. What 's the rason, 
 now, that Julius Caesar and the Vargin Mary was born, 
 upon the one day, answer me that, if you wouldn't 
 be hissed off the platform ? " 
 
 Well, my dear, the Pope could n't answer it, and he 
 had to acknowledge himself sacked. Then he axed his 
 Riv'rence to tell him the rason himself; and Father 
 Tom communicated it to him in Latin. But as that is
 
 144 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 a very deep question, I never hard what the answer was, 
 except that I 'm tould it was so mysterious, it made the 
 Pope's hair stand on end. But there 's two o'clock, and 
 I '11 be late for the lecthir. 
 
 ni. 
 
 HOW FATHER TOM MADE A HARE OP HIS HOLINESS IS 
 LATIN. 
 
 O DOCTHER WHATELEY, Docther Whateley, I 'm sure 
 I '11 never die another death, if I don't die aither ov 
 consumption or production ! I ever and always thought 
 that asthronomy was the hardest science that was till 
 now, and, it 's no lie I 'm telling you, the same as- 
 thronomy is a tough enough morsel to brake a man's 
 fast upon, and geolidgy is middling and hard too, 
 and hydherastatics is no joke, but ov all the books ov 
 science that ever was opened and shut, that book upon 
 P'litical Econimy lifts the pins ! Well, well, if they 
 wait till they persuade me that taking a man's rints 
 out ov the counthry, and spinding them in forrain parts 
 is n't doing us out ov the same, they '11 wait a long 
 time in truth. But you 're waiting, I see, to hear how 
 his Biv'rence and his Holiness got on after finishing the 
 disputation I was telling you of. Well, you see, my 
 dear, when the Pope found he couldn't hould a can- 
 dle to Father Tom in theology and logic, he thought 
 he'd take the shine out ov him in Latin anyhow: so 
 says he, " Misther Maguire," says he, " I quite agree 
 wid you that it's not lucky for us to be spaking on 
 them deep subjects in sich langidges as the evil spirits
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 145 
 
 is acquainted wid; and," says he, "I think it 'ud be 
 no harm for us to spake from this out in Latin," says 
 he, "for fraid the devil 'ud undherstand what we are 
 saying." 
 
 "Not a hair I care," says Father Tom, "whether they 
 undherstand what we 're saying or not, as long as we 
 keep off that last pint we wer discussing, and one or 
 two others. Listners never hear good ov themselves," 
 says he, "and if Belzhebub takes anything amiss that 
 aither you or me says in regard ov himself or his fac- 
 tion, let him stand forrid like a man, and never fear, I '11 
 give him his answer. Howandiver, if it 's for a taste 
 ov classic conwersation you are, jist to put us in mind 
 ov ould Cordarius," says he, " here 's at you." And wid 
 that he lets fly at his Holiness wid his health in Latin. 
 
 " Vesthrse Sanctitatis salutem volo," says he. 
 
 "Vesthrse Revirintise salutritati bibo," says the Pope 
 to him again (haith, it 's no joke, I tell you, to remimber 
 sich a power ov laming). "Here's to you wid the 
 same," says the Pope, in the raal Ciceronian. "Nunc 
 poculum alterhum imple," says he. 
 
 "Cum omni jucunditate in vita," says his Eiv'rence. 
 " Cum summa concupiscintia et animositate," says he, 
 as much as to say, " Wid all the veins ov my heart, I '11 
 do that same," and so wid that they mix'd their fourth 
 gun apiece. 
 
 " Aqua vitse vesthra sane est liquor admirabilis," says 
 the Pope. 
 
 " Verum est pro te, it 's thrue for you," says his 
 Riv'rence, forgetting the idyim ov the Latin phwrase- 
 ology in a manner. 
 
 VOL. IX. 7 J
 
 146 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 "Prava est tua Latinitas, domine," says the Pope, 
 finding fault like wid his etymology. 
 
 "Parva culpa mini," "small blame to me, that's," 
 says his Eiv'rence, "nam multum laboro in partibus 
 interioribus," says he the dear man! that never was 
 at a loss for an excuse ! 
 
 " Quid tibi incommodi ? " says the Pope, axing him 
 what ailed him. 
 
 " Habesne id quod Anglice vocamus a looking-glass," 
 says his Riv'rence. 
 
 "Immo, habeo speculum splendidissimum subther 
 operculum pyxidis hujus starnutatorise," says the Pope, 
 pulling out a beautiful goold snuff-box, wid a looking- 
 glass in undher the lid " Subther operculum pyxidis 
 hujus starnutatorii no starnutatorise quam dono 
 accepi ab Arch-duce Austhriaco siptuagisima praethe- 
 rita," says he, as much as to say that he got the box 
 in a prisint from the Queen ov Spain last Lint, if I 
 rightly remimber. 
 
 Well, Father Tom laughed like to burst. At last, 
 says he, "Pather Sancte," says he, "sub errore jaces. 
 ' Looking-glass ' apud nos habet significationem quam- 
 dam peculiarem ex tempore diei dependentem," there 
 was a sthring ov accusatives for yes ! " nam mane 
 speculum sonat," says he, "post prandium vero mat 
 mat mat" sorra be in me but I disremimber the 
 classic appellivation ov the same article. Howand- 
 iver, his Riv'rence went on explaining himself in such 
 a way as no scholar could mistake. "Vesica mea," 
 says he, "ab illo ultimo eversore distenditur, donee 
 similis est rumpere. Verbis apertis," says he, " Vesthrse
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 147 
 
 Sanctitatis prsesentia salvata, aquam facere valde desid- 
 hero." 
 
 " Ho, ho, ho ! " says the Pope, grabbing up his box, 
 "si inquinavisses meam pyxidem, excimnicari debuisses 
 Hillo, Anthony," says he to his head butler, "fetch 
 Misther Maguire a " 
 
 " You spoke first ! " says his Riv'rence, jumping off 
 his sate, " you spoke first in the vernacular ! I take 
 Misther Anthony to witness," says he. 
 
 "What else would you have me to do?" says the 
 Pope, quite dogged like to see himself bate thataway 
 at his own waypons. "Sure," says he, "Anthony 
 would n't undherstand a B from a bull's foot, if I spoke 
 to him any other way." 
 
 "Well, then," says his Riv'rence, "in considheration 
 ov the needcessity," says he, " I '11 let you off for this 
 time ! but mind now, afther I say prastho, the first 
 ov us that spakes a word ov English is the hare 
 preestho ! " 
 
 Neither ov them spoke for near a minit, considering 
 wid themselves how they were to begin sich a great 
 thrial ov shkill. At last, says the Pope, the blessed 
 man, only think how 'cute it was ov him ! " Domine 
 Maguire," says he, "valce desidhero, certiorem fieri 
 de significatione istius verbi eversor quo jam jam usus 
 es " (well, surely I am the boy for the Latin !) 
 
 "Eversor, id est cyathus," says his Riv'rence, "nam 
 apud nos tumbleri seu eversores, dicti sunt ab evertendo 
 ceremoniam inter amices ; non, ut Temperantise Socie- 
 tatis frigidis fautoribus placet, ab evertendis ipsis pota- 
 toribus." (It 's not every masther undher the Boord,
 
 148 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 I tell you, could carry sich a car-load ov the dead lan- 
 gidges.) "In agro vero Louthiano et Midensi," says 
 he, "nomine gaudent quodam secundum linguam An- 
 glicanam significante bombardam seu tormentum; quia 
 ex eis tanquam ex telis jaculatoriis liquorem facibus im- 
 mittere solent. Etiam inter hsereticos illos melanosto- 
 mos" (that was a touch ov Greek). " Presbyterianos 
 Septentrionales, qui sunt terribiles potatores, Cyathi 
 dicti sunt faceres, et dimidium Cyathi heef-a-glessus. 
 Dimidium Cyathi verb apud Metropolitans Hibernicos 
 dicitur dandy" 
 
 "En verbum Anglicanum ! " says the Pope, clapping 
 his hands, " leporem te fecisti " ; as much as to say 
 that he had made a hare of himself. 
 
 " Dandaeus, dandaeus verbum erat," says his Riv'rence, 
 O, the dear man, but it 's himself that was handy ever 
 and always at getting out ov a hobble, " dandaeus ver- 
 bum erat," says he, " quod dicturus eram, cum me in- 
 therpillavisti." 
 
 "Ast ego dico," says the Pope very sharp, "quod 
 verbum erat dandy." 
 
 " Per tibicinem qui coram Mose modulatus est," says 
 his Riv'rence, " id flagellat mundum ! Dandceus dixi, et 
 tu dicis dandy ; ergo tu es lepus, non ego Ah, ha ! 
 Saccavi vesthram Sanctitatem ! " 
 
 " Mendacium est ! " says the Pope, quite forgetting 
 himself, he was so mad at being sacked before the sar- 
 vints. 
 
 Well, if it hadn't been that his Holiness was in it, 
 Father Tom 'ud have given him the contints of his tum- 
 bler betuxt the two eyes, for calling him a liar ; and, in
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 149 
 
 troth, it 's very well it was in Latin the ottmce was con- 
 weyed, for, if it had been in the vernacular, there 's no 
 saying what 'ud ha' been the consequence. His Biv'- 
 rence was mighty angry anyhow. " Tu senex lathro," 
 says he, " quomodo audes me mendacem prsedicare ? " 
 
 " Et, tu, sacrilege nebulo," says the Pope, " quomodo 
 audacitatem habeas, me Dei in terris vicarium, lathronem 
 conwiciari ? " 
 
 " Interroga circumcirca," says his Eiv'rence. 
 
 " Abi ex sedibus meis," says the Pope. 
 
 "Abi tu in inalam crucem," says his Riv'rence. 
 
 " Excimnicabo te," says the Pope. 
 
 " Diabolus curat," says his Riv'reuce. 
 
 " Anathema sis," says the Pope. 
 
 " Oscula meum pod " says his Biv'rence but, my 
 dear, afore he could finish what he was going to say, the 
 Pope broke out into the vernacular, " Get out o' my 
 house, you reprobate ! " says he, in sich a rage that he 
 could contain himself widin the Latin no longer. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! ho, ho, ho ! " says his Riv'rence. 
 " Who 's the hare now, your Holiness ? O, by this and 
 by that, I 've sacked you clane ! Clane and clever I 've 
 done it, and no mistake ! You see what a bit of desate 
 will do wid the wisest, your Holiness, sure it was jok- 
 ing I was, on purpose to aggravate you, all 's fair, you 
 know, in love, law, and conthravarsy. In troth if I'd 
 thought you 'd have taken it so much to heart, I 'd have 
 put my head into the fire afore I 'd have said a word to 
 offend you," says he, for he seen that the Pope was very 
 vexed. " Sure, God forbid, that I 'd say anything agin 
 your Holiness, barring it was in fun : for are n't you the
 
 150 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 father ov the faithful, and the thrue vicar ov God upon 
 earth ? And are n't I ready to go down on my two 
 knees this blessed minit and beg your apostolical pardon 
 for every word that I said to your displasement ? " 
 
 " Are you in arnest that it is in fun you wer ? " says 
 the Pope. 
 
 " May I never die if I are n't," says his Riv'rence. " It 
 was all to provoke your Holiness to commit a brache ov 
 the Latin, that I tuck the small liberties I did," says he. 
 
 "I'd have you to take care," says the Pope, "how 
 you take sich small liberties again, or maybe you '11 pro- 
 voke me to commit a brache ov the pace." 
 
 " Well, and if I did," says his Riv'rence, " I know a 
 sartan preparation ov chymicals that's very good for 
 curing a brache either in Latinity or friendship." 
 
 " What 's that ? " says the Pope, quite mollified, and 
 sitting down again at the table that he had ris from in 
 the first pluff of his indignation. "What's that?" 
 says he, " for 'pon my Epistolical 'davy, I think it 'ud 
 n't be asy to bate this miraculous mixthir that we 've 
 been thrying to anilize this two hours back," says he, 
 taking a mighty scientifical swig out ov the bottom ov 
 his tumbler. 
 
 " It 's good for a beginning," says his Riv'rence ; " it 
 lays a very nate foundation for more sarious operation : 
 but we 're now arrived at a pariod ov the evening when 
 it 's time to proceed wid our shuperstructure by compass 
 and square, like free and excipted masons as we both 
 are." 
 
 My time 's up for the present ; but I '11 tell you the 
 rest in the evening at home.
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 151 
 
 IV. 
 
 HOW FATHER TOM AND HIS HOLINESS DISPUTED AT 
 METAPHYSICS AND ALGEBRA. 
 
 GOD be wid the time when I went to the classical 
 seminary ov Eirdramore ! when I 'd bring my sod o' turf 
 undher my arm, and sit down on my shnug boss o' straw, 
 wid my back to the masther and my shins to the fire, 
 and score my sum in Dives's denominations ov the double 
 rule o' three, or play fox and geese wid purty Jane 
 Cruise that sat next me, as plisantly as the day was long, 
 widout any one so much as saying, " Mikey Hefferman, 
 what 's that you 're about ? " for ever since I was in 
 the one lodge wid poor ould Mat I had my own way 
 in his school as free as ever I had in my mother's she- 
 been. 
 
 God be wid them days, I say again, for it 's althered 
 times wid me, I judge, since I got undher Carlisle and 
 Whateley. Sich sthrictness ! sich ordher ! sich dhrilling, 
 and lecthiring, and tuthoring as they do get on wid ! I 
 wisht to gracious the one half ov their rules and regila- 
 tions was sunk in the say. And they're getting so 
 sthrict too about having fair play for the heretic childer ! 
 We 've to have no more schools in the chapels, nor masses 
 in the schools. 0, by this and by that, it '11 never do at 
 all! 
 
 The ould plan was twenty times betther : and, for my 
 own part, if it was n't that the clargy supports them in 
 a manner, and the grant 's a thing not easily done widout 
 these hard times, I 'd see if I could n't get a sheltered
 
 152 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 spot nigh hand the chapel, and set up again on the good 
 ould principle : and faix, I think our metropolitan 'ud 
 stand to me, for I know that his Grace's motto was ever 
 and always, that, " Ignorance is the thrue mother ov 
 piety." 
 
 But I 'm running away from my narrative entirely, so 
 I am. "You'll plase to ordher up the housekeeper, 
 then," says Father Tom to the Pope, "wid a pint ov 
 sweet milk in a skillet, and the bulk ov her fist ov but- 
 ther, along wid a dust ov soft sugar in a saucer, and I '11 
 show you the way of producing a decoction that, I'll 
 be bound, will hunt the thirst out ov every nook and 
 corner in your Holiness's blessed carcidge." 
 
 The Pope ordhered up the ingredients, and they were 
 brought in by the head butler. 
 
 " That '11 not do at all," says his Eiv'rence, " the in- 
 gredients won't combine in due proportion unless ye do 
 as I bid yes. Send up the housekeeper," says he, " for 
 a faymale hand is ondispinsably necessary to produce the 
 adaption of the particles and the concurrence of the cor- 
 pus'cles, widout which you might boil till morning and 
 never fetch the cruds off ov it." 
 
 Well, the Pope whispered to his head butler, and by 
 and by up there comes an ould faggot ov a Cuillean, that 
 was enough to frighten a horse from his oats. 
 
 "Don't thry for to desave me," says his Riv'rence, 
 " for it 's no use, I tell yes. Send up the housekeeper, 
 I bid yes : I seen her presarving gooseberries in the 
 panthry as I came up : she has eyes as black as a sloe," 
 says he, " and cheeks like the rose in June ; and sorra 
 taste ov this celestial mixthir shall crass the lips ov man
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 153 
 
 or morteal this blessed night till she stirs the same tip 
 wid her own delicate little finger." 
 
 " Misther Maguire," says the Pope, " it's very im- 
 proper ov you to spake that way ov my housekeeper : I 
 won't allow it, sir." 
 
 "Honor bright, your Holiness," says his Riv'rence, 
 laying his hand on his heart. 
 
 " 0, by this and by that, Misther Maguire," says the 
 Pope, " I '11 have none of your insinuations ; I don't 
 care who sees my whole household," says he ; "I don't 
 care if all the faymales undher my roof was paraded 
 down the High Street of Room," says he. 
 
 " O, it 's plain to be seen how little you care who sees 
 them," says his Riv'rence. " You 're afeard, now, if I 
 was to see your housekeeper, that I 'd say she was too 
 handsome." 
 
 " No, I 'm not ! " says the Pope, " I don't care who 
 sees her," says he. " Anthony," says he to the head 
 butler, " bid Eliza throw her apron over her head, and 
 come up here." Was n't that stout in the blessed man ? 
 Well, my dear, up she came, stepping like a three-year- 
 old, and blushing like the brake o' day : for though her 
 apron was thrown over her head as she came forrid, till 
 you could barely see the tip ov her chin, more be 
 token there was a lovely dimple in it, as I 've been tould, 
 yet she let it shlip abit to one side, by chance like, 
 jist as she got fornenst the fire, and if she wouldn't 
 have given his Riv'rence a shot if he hadn't been a 
 priest, it's no matther. 
 
 " Now, my dear," says he, " you must take that skillet, 
 and hould it over the fire till the milk comes to a blood 
 7*
 
 154 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 hate ; and the way you '11 know that will be by stirring it 
 onc't or twice wid the little finger ov your right hand, 
 afore you put in the butther : not that I misdoubt," says 
 he, " but that the same finger 's fairer nor the whitest 
 milk that ever came from the tit." 
 
 "None of your deludhering talk to the young woman, 
 sir," says the Pope, mighty stern. " Stir the posset as 
 he bids you, Eliza, and then be off wid yourself," says 
 he. 
 
 " I beg your Holiness's pardon ten thousand times," 
 says his Riv'rence, " I 'm sure I meant nothing onproper ; 
 I hope I 'm uncapable ov any sich dirilection of my duty," 
 says he. " But, marciful Saver ! " he cried out, jumping 
 up on a suddent, " look behind you, your Holiness, 
 I 'm blest but the room 's on fire ! " 
 
 Sure enough the candle fell down that minit, and was 
 near setting fire to the windy-curtains, and there was 
 some bustle, as you may suppose, getting things put to 
 rights. And now I have to tell you ov a really onpleas- 
 ant occurrence. If I was a Prodesan that was in it, I 'd 
 say that while the Pope's back was turned, Father Tom 
 made free wid the two lips of Miss Eliza ; but, upon my 
 conscience, I believe it was a mere mistake that his Holi- 
 ness fell into on account of his being an ould man and 
 not having aither his eyesight or his hearing very par- 
 feet. At any rate, it can't be denied but that he had a 
 sthrong imprission that sich was the case ; for he wheeled 
 about as quick as thought, jist as his Riv'rence was 
 sitting down, and charged him wid the offince plain and 
 plump. " Is it kissing my housekeeper before my face 
 you are, you villain ! " says he. " Go down out o' this,"
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 155 
 
 says he, to Miss Eliza, " and do you be packing off wid 
 you," he says to Father Tom, " for it 's not safe, so it 
 is n't, to have the likes ov you in a house where there 's 
 temptation in your way." 
 
 " Is it me ? " says his Biv'rence ; " why what would 
 your Holiness be at, at all ? Sure I was n't doing no 
 such thing." 
 
 " Would you have me doubt the evidence ov my 
 sinses ? " says the Pope ; "would you have me doubt the 
 testimony of my eyes and ears ? " says he. 
 
 "Indeed I would so," says his Eiv'rence, "if they 
 pretend to have informed your Holiness ov any sich 
 foolishness." 
 
 " Why," says the Pope, " I 've seen you afther kissing 
 Eliza as plain as I see the nose on your face ; I heard 
 the smack you gave her as plain as ever I heard thun- 
 dher." 
 
 " And how do you know whether you see the nose on 
 my face or not ? " says his Eiv'rence, " and how do you 
 know whether what you thought was thundher, was 
 thundher at all ? Them operations on the sinses," says 
 he, " comprises only particular corporal emotions, con- 
 nected wid sartain confused perciptions called sinsations, 
 and is n't to be depended upon at all. If we were to 
 follow them blind guides we might jist as well turn her- 
 etics at onc't. 'Pon my secret word, your Holiness, 
 it's neither charitable nor orthodox ov you to set up 
 the testimony ov your eyes and ears agin the char- 
 aether ov a clergyman. And now, see how aisy it 
 is to explain all them phwenomena that perplexed you. 
 I ris and went over beside the young woman because
 
 156 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 the skillet was boiling over, to help her to save the 
 dhrop ov liquor that was in it ; and as for the noise 
 you heard, my dear man, it was neither more nor 
 less nor myself dhrawing the cork out ov this blissid 
 bottle." 
 
 " Don't offer to thrape that upon me ! " says the 
 Pope ; " here 's the cork in the bottle still, as tight as 
 a wedge." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," says his Biv'rence, " that 's not 
 the cork at all," says he ; " I dhrew the cork a good two 
 minits ago, and it 's very purtily spitted on the end ov 
 this blessed corkshcrew at this prisint moment; how- 
 andiver you can't see it, because it 's only its real prisince 
 that 's in it. But that appearance that you call a cork," 
 says he, " is nothing but the outward spacies and exter- 
 nal qualities of the cortical nathur. Them 's nothing but 
 the accidents of the cork that you're looking at and 
 handling ; but, as I tould you afore, the real cork 's dhrew 
 and is here prisint on the end ov this nate little insthru' 
 ment, and it was the noise I made in dhrawing it, and 
 nothing else, that you mistook for the sound ov the 
 poffue." 
 
 You know there was no conthravening what he said ; 
 and the Pope could n't openly deny it. 'Howandiver he 
 thried to pick a hole in it this way. " Granting," says 
 he, " that there is the differ you say betwixt the reality 
 ov the cork and these cortical accidents ; and that it 's 
 quite possible, as you allidge, that the thrue cork is 
 really prisint on the end ov the shcrew, while the acci- 
 dents keep the mouth ov the bottle stopped still," says 
 he, " I can't undherstand, though willing to acquit you,
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 157 
 
 how the dhrawing ov the real cork, that's onpalpable 
 and widout accidents, could produce the accident of that 
 sinsible explosion I heard jist now." 
 
 " All I can say," says his Riv'rence, " is that it was a 
 rale accident, anyhow." 
 
 " Ay," says the Pope, " the kiss you gev Eliza, you 
 mane." 
 
 "No," says his Riv'rence, "but the report I 
 made." 
 
 " I don't doubt you," says the Pope. 
 
 " No cork could be dhrew with less noise," says his 
 Eiv'rence. 
 
 " It would be hard for anything to be less nor noth- 
 ing, barring algebra," says the Pope. 
 
 " I can prove to the conthrary," says his Riv'rence. 
 "This glass ov whiskey is less nor that tumbler ov 
 punch, and that tumbler ov punch is nothing to this jug 
 ov scaltheen." 
 
 " Do you judge by superficial misure or by the liquid 
 contents ? " says the Pope. 
 
 " Don't stop me, betwixt my premises and my conclu- 
 sion," says his Riv'rence : " Ergo, this glass ov whiskey 
 is less nor nothing ; and for that raison I see no harm in 
 life in adding it to the contents ov the same jug, just by 
 way ov a frost-nail." 
 
 "Adding what's less nor nothing," says the Pope, 
 " is subtraction according to algebra, so here goes to 
 make the rule good," says he, filling his tumbler wid the 
 blessed stuff, and sitting down again at the table, for the 
 anger did n't stay two minits on him, the good-hearted 
 ould sowl.
 
 158 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " Two minuses make one plus," says his Riv'rence, as 
 ready as you plase, " and that '11 account for the in- 
 creased daycrement I mane to take the liberty of pro- 
 ducing in the same mixed quantity," says he, follyiug his 
 Holiness's epistolical example. 
 
 " By all that 's good," says the Pope, " that 's the 
 best stuff I ever tasted ; you call it a mix'd quantity, but 
 I say it 's prime." 
 
 " Since it 's ov the first ordher, then," says his Riv'- 
 rence, "we '11 have the less deifeequilty in reducing it 
 to a simple equation." 
 
 " You '11 have no fractions at my side anyhow," says 
 the Pope. " Faix, I 'm afeared," says he, " it 's only 
 too aisy ov solution our sum is like to be." 
 
 " Never fear for that," says his Riv'rence, " I 've a 
 good stick ov surds here in the bottle ; for I tell you it 
 will take us a long time to exthract the root ov it, at the 
 rate we 're going on." 
 
 " What makes you call the blessed quart an irrational 
 quantity ? " says the Pope. 
 
 " Because it 's too much for one and too little for 
 two," says his Riv'rence. 
 
 " Clear it ov its coefficient, and we '11 thry," says the 
 Pope. 
 
 "Hand me over the exponent then," says his Riv'- 
 rence. 
 
 " What 's that ? " says the Pope. 
 
 " The shcrew, to be sure," says his Riv'rence. 
 
 " What for ? " says the Pope. 
 
 " To dhraw the cork," says his Riv'rence. 
 
 " Sure, the cork 's dhrew," says the Pope.
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 159 
 
 " But the sperets can't get out on account ov the 
 accidents that 's stuck in the neck ov the bottle," says 
 his Riv'rence. 
 
 " Accident ought to be passable to sperit," says the 
 Pope, " and that makes me suspect that the reality ov 
 the cork 's in it afther all." 
 
 " That 's a barony -masia," says his Biv'rence, " and 
 I'm not bound to answer it. But the fact is, that 
 it 's the accidents ov the sperits too that 's in it, 
 and the reality's passed out through the cortical 
 spacies, as you say ; for, you may have observed, 
 we've both been in real good sperits ever since the 
 cork was dhrawn, and where else would the real 
 sperits come from if they wouldn't come out ov the 
 bottle ? " 
 
 "Well, then," says the Pope, "since we've got the 
 reality, there's no use throubling ourselves wid the 
 accidents." 
 
 "0, begad," says his Biv'rence, "the accidents is 
 very essential too; for a man may be in the best ov 
 good sperits, as far as his immaterial part goes, and 
 yet need the accidental qualities ov good liquor to hunt 
 the sinsible thirst out ov him." So he dhraws the cork 
 in earnest, and sets about brewing the other skillet ov 
 scaltheen ; but, faiz, he had to get up the ingradients 
 this time by the hands ov ould Moley ; though devil a 
 taste ov her little finger he'd let widin a yard ov the 
 same coction. 
 
 But, my dear, here 's the " Freeman's Journal," and 
 we '11 see what 's the news afore we finish the residuary 
 proceedings of their two Holinesse*.
 
 160 LITTLE CLASSICS, 
 
 V. 
 
 THE KEASON WHY FATHER TOM WAS NOT MADE ^ A 
 CARDINAL. 
 
 Hurroo, my darlings ! did n't I tell you it 'ud never 
 do? Success to bould John Tuam and the ould simi- 
 nary ov Firdramore ! O, more power to your Grace 
 every day you rise, 'tis you that has broken their 
 Boord into shivers undher your feet ! Sure, and is n't 
 it a proud day for Ireland, this blessed feast ov the 
 chair ov Saint Pether ? Is n't Carlisle and Whateley 
 smashed to pieces, and their whole college of swaddling 
 teachers knocked into smidhereens. John Tuam, your 
 sowl, has tuck his pasthoral staff in his hand and 
 beathen them out o' Connaught as fast as ever Pathric 
 druve the sarpints into Clew Bay. 
 
 Poor ould Mat Kevanagh, if he was alive this day, 
 't is he would be the happy man. " My curse upon their 
 g'ographies and Bibles," he used to say ; " where 's the 
 use ov perplexing the poor childre wid what we don't 
 undherstand ourselves ? " No use at all, in troth, and 
 so I said from the first myself. 
 
 Well, thank God and his Grace, we '11 have no more 
 thrigonomethry nor scripther in Connaught. We'll 
 hould our lodges every Saturday night, as we used to 
 do, wid our chairman behind the masther's desk, and 
 we '11 hear our mass every Sunday morning wid the 
 blessed priest standing afore the same. 
 
 I wisht to goodness I hadn't parted wid my Seven 
 Champions ov Christendom and Freney the Robber:
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 161 
 
 they 're books that '11 be in great requist in Leithrim as 
 soon as the pasthoral gets wind. Glory be to God ! 
 I 've done wid their lecthirs, they may all go and be 
 d d wid their consumption and production. 
 
 I 'm off to Tallymactaggart before daylight in the 
 morning, where I '11 thry whether a sod or two o' turf 
 can't consume a cart-load ov heresy, and whether a 
 weekly meeting ov the lodge can't produce a new thay- 
 ory ov rints. 
 
 But afore I take my lave ov you, I may as well finish 
 my story about poor Father Tom that I hear is coming 
 up to slate the heretics in Adam and Eve during the 
 Lint. 
 
 The Pope and indeed it ill became a good Catholic 
 to say anything agin him no more would I, only that 
 his Biv'rence was in it but you see the fact ov it is, 
 that the Pope was as envious as ever he could be, at 
 seeing himself sacked right and left by Father Tom ; and 
 bate out o' the face, the way he was, on every science and 
 subjec' that was started. So, not to be outdone alto- 
 gether, he says to his Riv'rence, " you 're a man that 's 
 fond of the brute crayation, I hear, Misther Maguire ? " 
 
 " I don't deny it," says his Biv'rence. " I 've dogs 
 that I 'm willing to run agin any man's, ay, or to match 
 them agin any other dogs in the world for genteel edica- 
 tion and polite manners," says he. 
 
 " I '11 hould you a pound," says the Pope, " that I 've 
 a quadhruped in my possession that 's a wiser baste nor 
 any dog in your kennel." 
 
 "Done," says his Biv'rence, and they staked the 
 money. 
 
 X
 
 162 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 "What can this larned quadhruped o' yours do?" 
 says his Riv'rence. 
 
 " It 's my mule," says the Pope, " and, if you were 
 to offer her goolden oats and clover off the meadows o' 
 Paradise, sorra taste ov aither she 'd let pass her teeth 
 till the first mass is over every Sunday or holiday in the 
 year." 
 
 " Well, and what 'ud you say if I showed you a baste 
 ov mine," says his Riv'rence, " that, instead ov fasting 
 till first mass is over only, fasts out the whole four-and- 
 twenty hours ov every Wednesday and Friday in the 
 week as reg'lar as a Christian ? " 
 
 " 0, be asy, Masther Maguire," says the Pope. 
 
 " You don't b'lieve me, don't you ? " says his Riv'- 
 rence ; " very well, I '11 soon show you whether or no." 
 And he put his knuckles in his mouth, and gev a whistle 
 that made the Pope stop his fingers in his ears. The 
 aycho, my dear, was hardly done playing wid the cobwebs 
 in the cornish, when the door flies open, and in jumps 
 Spring. The Pope happened to be sitting next the door, 
 betuxt him and his Riv'rence, and, may I never die, if 
 he did n't clear him, thriple crown and all, at one spring. 
 " God's presence be about us ! " says the Pope, thinking 
 it was an evil spirit come to fly away wid him for the lie 
 that he had told in regard ov his mule (for it was nothing 
 more nor a thrick that consisted in grazing the brute's 
 teeth) : but, seeing it was only one ov the greatest 
 beauties ov a greyhound that he 'd ever laid his epistoli- 
 cal eyes on, he soon recovered ov his fright, and began 
 to pat him, while Father Tom ris and went to the side- 
 boord, where he cut a slice ov pork, a sUce ov beef, a
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 163 
 
 slice ov mutton, and a slice ov salmon, and put them all 
 on a plate thegither. " Here, Spring, my man," says he, 
 setting the plate down afore him on the hearthstone, 
 " here 's your supper for you this blessed Friday night." 
 Not a word more he said nor what I tell you ; and, you 
 may believe it or not, but it 's the blessed truth that the 
 dog, afther jist tasting the salmon, and spitting it out 
 again, lifted his nose out o' the plate, and stood wid his 
 jaws wathering, and his tail wagging, looking up in his 
 Riv'rence's face, as much as to say, " Give me your 
 absolution, till I hide them temptations out o' my sight." 
 " There 's a dog that knows his duty," says his Biv'- 
 rence ; " there 's a baste that knows how to conduct 
 himself aither in the parlor or the field. You think him a 
 good dog, looking at him here : but I wisht you seen 
 him on the side ov Sleeve-an-Eirin ! Be my soul, you 'd 
 say the hill was running away from undher him. 0, I 
 wisht you had been wid me," says he, never letting on 
 to see the dog stale, " one day, last Lent, that I was 
 coming from mass. Spring was near a quarther ov a 
 mile behind me, for the childher was delaying him wid 
 bread and butther at the chapel door ; when a lump ov 
 a hare jumped out ov the plantations ov Grouse Lodge 
 and ran acrass the road ; so I gev the whilloo, and know- 
 ing that she 'd take the rise of the hill, I made over the 
 ditch, and up through Mullaghcashel as hard as I could 
 pelt, still keeping her in view, but afore I had gone a 
 perch, Spring seen her, and away the two went like the 
 wind, up Drumrewy, and down Clooneen, and over the 
 river, widout his being able onc't to turn her. Well, I 
 run on till I come to the Diffagher, and through it I
 
 164 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 went, for the wather was low and I did n't mind being 
 wet shod, and out on the other side, where I got up on 
 a ditch, and seen sich a coorse as I '11 be bound to say 
 was never seen afore or since. If Spring turned that 
 hare onc't that day, he turned her fifty times, up and 
 down, back and for'ard, throughout and about. At last 
 . he run her right into the big quarryhole in Mullaghbawn, 
 and when I went up to look for her fud, there I found 
 him sthretched on his side, not able to stir a foot, and 
 the hare lying about an inch afore his nose as dead as a 
 door-nail, and divil a mark of a tooth upon her. Eh, 
 Spring, is n't that thrue ? " says he. Jist at that minit 
 the clock sthruck twelve, and, before you could say 
 thrap-sticks, Spring had the plateful of mate consaled. 
 " Now," says his Riv'rence, " hand me over my pound, 
 for I 've won my bate fairly." 
 
 " You '11 excuse me," says the Pope, pocketing his 
 money, " for we put the clock half an hour back, out ov 
 compliment to your Riv'rence," says he, "and it was 
 Sathurday morning afore he came up at all." 
 
 " Well, it 's no matther," says his Riv'rence, putting 
 back his pound-note in his pocket-book. " Only," says 
 he, " it 's hardly fair to expect a brute baste to be so well 
 skilled in the science ov chronology." 
 
 In troth his Riv'rence was badly used in the same bet, 
 for he won it clever ; and, indeed, I 'm afeard the shabby 
 way he was thrated had some effect in putting it into his 
 mind to do what he did. " Will your Holiness take a 
 blast ov the pipe ? " says he, dhrawing out his dhudeen. 
 
 " I never smoke," says the Pope, " but I have n't the 
 least objection to the smell of the tobaccay."
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 165 
 
 " 0, you had betther take a dhraw," says his Riv'- 
 rence, " it '11 relish the dhrink, that 'ud be too luscious 
 entirely, widout something to flavor it." 
 
 " I had thoughts," said the Pope, wid the laste sign 
 ov a hiccup on him, " ov getting up a broiled bone for 
 the same purpose." 
 
 " Well," says his Riv'rence, " a broiled bone 'ud do 
 no manner ov harm at this present time ; but a smoke," 
 says he, " 'ud flavor both the devil and the dhrink." 
 
 " What sort o' tobaccay is it that 's in it ? " says the 
 Pope. 
 
 " Raal nagur-head," says his Riv'rence, " a very mild 
 and salubrious spacies ov the philosophic weed." 
 
 " Then, I don't care if I do take a dhraw," says the 
 Pope. Then Father Tom held the coal himself till his 
 Holiness had the pipe lit ; and they sat widout saying 
 anything worth mentioning for about five minutes. 
 
 At last the Pope says to his Riv'rence, "I dunna 
 what gev me this plaguy hiccup," says he. "Dhrink 
 about," says he " Begorra," he says, " I think I 'm 
 getting merrier 'an 's good for me. Sing us a song, your 
 Riv'rence," says he. 
 
 Father Tom then sung him Monatagrenage and the 
 Bunch o' Rushes, and he was mighty well pleased wid 
 both, keeping time wid his hands, and joining in the 
 choruses, when his hiccup 'ud let him. At last, my 
 dear, he opens the lower button ov his waistcoat, and 
 the top one of his waistband, and calls to Masther An- 
 thony to lift up one ov the windys. " I dunna what 's 
 wrong wid me, at all at all," says he; "I'm mortal 
 sick."
 
 166 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " I thrust," says his Riv'rence, " the pasthry that you 
 ate at dinner has n't disagreed wid your Holiness's 
 stomach." 
 
 " O my ! oh ! " says the Pope, " what 's this at 
 all?" gasping for breath, and as pale as a sheet, wid 
 a could swate bursting out over his forehead, and the 
 palms ov his hands spread out to cotch the air. " my ! 
 O my ! " says he, " fetch me a basin ! Don't spake to 
 me. Oh ! oh ! blood alive ! O, my head, my 
 head, hould my head ! oh ! ubh ! I 'm poisoned ! 
 
 ach ! " 
 
 " It was them plaguy pasthries," says his Riv'rence. 
 " Hould his head hard," says he, " and clap a wet cloth 
 over his timples. If you could only thry another dhraw 
 o' the pipe, your Holiness, it 'ud set you to rights in no 
 time." 
 
 " Carry me to bed," says the Pope, " and never let 
 me see that wild Irish priest again. I 'm poisoned by 
 his manes ubplsch ! ach ! ach ! He dined wid 
 Cardinal Wayld yestherday," says he, " and he 's bribed 
 him to take me off. Send for a confessor," says he, " for 
 my latther end 's approaching. My head 's like to split 
 
 so it is ! my ! my ! ubplsch ! ach ! " 
 Well, his Riv'rence never thought it worth his while 
 
 to make him an answer ; but, when he seen how un- 
 gratefully he was used, afther all his throuble in making 
 the evening agreeable to the ould man, he called Spring, 
 and put the but-end ov the second bottle into his pocket, 
 and left the house widout once wishing " Good night, an' 
 plaisant dhrames to you " ; and, in troth, not one of them 
 axed him to lave them a lock ov his hair.
 
 FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. 
 
 167 
 
 That 's the story as I heard it tould : but myself does 
 n't b'lieve over one half of it. Howandiver, when all 's 
 done, it 's a shame, so it is, that he 's not a bishop this 
 blessed day and hour : for, next to the goiant ov Saint 
 Garlath's, he 's out and out the cleverest fellow ov the 
 whole j ing-bang.
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 
 
 BY WILLIAM HOWITT. 
 
 OHN DARBYSHIRE, or, according to the 
 regular custom of the country, Johnny Darby- 
 shire, was a farmer living in one of the most 
 obscure parts of the country, on the borders of the Peak 
 of Derbyshire. His fathers before him had occupied 
 the same farm for generations; and as they had been 
 Quakers from the days of George Fox, who preached 
 there and converted them, Johnny also was a Quaker. 
 That is, he was, as many others were, and no doubt are, 
 habitually a Quaker. He was a Quaker in dress, in lan- 
 guage, in attendance of their meetings, and, above all, 
 in the unmitigated contempt which he felt and expressed 
 for everything like fashion, for the practices of the world, 
 for the Church, and for music and amusements. There 
 never was a man, from the first to the present day of 
 the society, who so thoroughly embodied and exhibited 
 that quality attributed to the Quaker, in the rhyming 
 nursery alphabet, " Q was a Quaker, and would not 
 bow down." 
 
 No, Johnny Darbyshire would not have bowed down
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 169 
 
 to any mortal power. He would have marched into the 
 presence of the king with his hat on, and would have 
 addressed him with just the same unembarrassed free- 
 dom as " The old chap out of the West Countrie " is 
 made to do in the song. As to any of the more humble 
 and conceding qualities usually attributed to the peace- 
 ful Quaker, Johnny had not an atom of those about him. 
 Never was there a more pig-headed, arbitrary, positive, 
 pugnacious fellow. He would argue anybody out of 
 their opinions by the hour; he would "threep them 
 down," as he called it, that is, point blank and with a 
 loud voice insist on his own possession of the right, and 
 of the sound common-sense of the matter; and if he 
 could not convince them, would at least confound them 
 with his obstreperous din and violence of action. That 
 was what he called clearing the field, and not leaving 
 his antagonist a leg to stand on. Having thus fairly 
 overwhelmed, dumfoundered, and tired out some one 
 with his noise, he would go off in triumph, and say to 
 the bystanders as he went, " There, lads, you see he 
 hadn't a word to say for himself"; and truly a clever 
 fellow must he have been who could have got a word 
 in edgeways when Johnny had once fairly got his steam 
 up, and was shrieking and storming like a cat-o'-moun- 
 tain. 
 
 Yet had anybody told Johnny that he was no Quaker, 
 he would have " threeped them down " that they did 
 not know what a Quaker meant. What ! were not his 
 father, and his grandfather, and his great-grandfather 
 before him all Quakers ? Was not he born in the So- 
 ciety, brought up in it ? Had n't he attended first-day, 
 
 VOL. is. 8
 
 170 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 week-day, preparative, monthly, quarterly, and some- 
 times yearly meetings too, all his life ? Had not he 
 regularly and handsomely subscribed to the monthly, 
 and the national, and the Ackworth School Stocks? 
 Had he not been on all sorts of appointments ; to visit 
 new members, new comers into the meeting; to warn 
 disorderly walkers ; nay, had he not sate even on com- 
 mittees in London at yearly meetings? Had he not 
 received and travelled with ministers when they came 
 on religious visits into these parts ? Had he not taken 
 them in his tax-cart to the next place, and been once 
 upset in a deep and dirty lane with a weighty minister- 
 ing friend, and dislocated his collar-bone ? 
 
 What ? He not a Quaker ! Was George Pox one, 
 did they think; or William Penn, or Robert Barclay, 
 indeed P 
 
 Johnny Darbyshire was a Quaker. He had the dress, 
 and address, and all the outward testimonies and marks 
 of a Quaker ; nay, he was more ; he was an overseer of 
 the meeting, and broke up the meetings. Yes, and he 
 would have them to know that he executed his office 
 well. Ay, well indeed; without clock to look at, or 
 without pulling out his watch, or being within hearing 
 of any bell, or any other thing that could guide him, he 
 would sit on the front seat of his meeting where not a 
 word was spoken, exactly for an hour and three quarters 
 to a minute, and then break it up by shaking hands with 
 the Friend who sate next to him. Was not that an 
 evidence of a religious tact and practice ? And had 
 not the Friends once when he was away, just like peo- 
 ple in a ship which had lost both rudder and compass,
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 171 
 
 gone drifting in unconsciousness from ten in the morn- 
 ing till three in the afternoon, and would not then have 
 known that it was time to break up the meeting, but 
 that somebody's servant was sent to see what had hap- 
 pened, and why they did not come home to dinner ? 
 
 Johnny could see a sleeper as soon as any, were he 
 ensconced in the remotest and obscurest corner of the 
 meeting, and let him hold up his head and sleep as clev- 
 erly as he might from long habit. And did not he once 
 give a most notable piece of advice to a rich Friend who 
 was a shocking sleeper ? Was not this Friend very ill, 
 and did n't Johnny go to see him ; and did n't he, when 
 the Friend complained that he could get no sleep, and 
 that not all the physic, the strongest opium even of the 
 doctor's shop, could make him, did n't Johnny Darby- 
 shire say right slap-bang out, which not another of the 
 plainest-spoken Friends dare have done to a rich man 
 like that, " Stuff and nonsense ; and a fig for opium 
 and doctor's stuff, send, man, send for the meeting- 
 house bench, and lie thee down on that, and I '11 be 
 bound thou 'It sleep like one of the seven sleepers." 
 
 Undoubtedly Johnny was a Quaker ; a right slap-dash 
 Quaker of the old Foxite school ; and had anybody come 
 smiling to him in the hope of getting anything out of 
 him, he would have said to him as George Fox said to 
 Colonel Hackett, "Beware of hypocrisy and a rotten 
 heart ! " True, had you questioned him as to his par- 
 ticular religious doctrines or articles of faith, he would 
 not have been very clear, or very ready to give you any 
 explanation at all, for the very best of reasons, he was 
 not so superstitious as to have a creed. A creed ! that
 
 172 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 was a rag of the old woman of Babylon. No, if you 
 wanted to know all about doctrines and disputations, 
 why, you might look into Barclay's Apology. There 
 was a book big enough for you, he should think. For 
 himself, like most of his cloth, he would confine himself 
 to his feelings. He would employ a variety of choice 
 and unique phrases ; such as, " If a man want to 
 know what religion is, he must not go running after 
 parsons, and bishops, and all that sort of man-made 
 ministers, blind leaders of the blind, who can talk by 
 the hour, but about what neither man, woman, nor 
 child, for the life of them, can tell, except when they 
 come for their tithes, or their Easter dues, and then 
 they speak plain enough with a vengeance. One of 
 these Common-Prayer priests," said he, "once came to 
 advise me about the lawfulness of paying Church-rates, 
 and, instead of walking into my parlor, he walked through 
 the next door, and nearly broke his neck, into the cellar. 
 A terrible stramash of a lumber, and a plunging and a 
 groaning we heard somewhere ; and rushing out, lo and 
 behold ! it was no other than Diggory Dyson, the parish 
 priest, who had gone headlong to the bottom of the 
 cellar steps, and had he not cut his temples against the 
 brass tap of a beer-barrel and bled freely, he might have 
 died on the spot. And that was a man set up to guide 
 the multitude! Had he been only led and guided by 
 the Spirit of God, as a true minister should be, he would 
 never have gone neck-foremost down my cellar steps. 
 That 's your blind leader of the blind ! " 
 
 But if Johnny Darbyshire thought the "Common- 
 Prayer priests" obscure, they must have thought him
 
 JOHNNY DAEBYSHIRE. 173 
 
 sevenfold so. Instead of doctrines and such pagan 
 things, he talked solemnly of " centring down " ; " be- 
 ing renewedly made sensible " ; " having his mind drawn 
 to this and that thing " ; " feeling himself dipped into 
 deep baptism " ; " feeling a sense of duty " ; and of 
 " seeing, or not seeing his way clear " into this or that 
 matter. But his master phrase was " living near to the 
 truth " ; and often, when other people thought him par- 
 ticularly provoking and insulting, it was only "because 
 he hated a lie and the father of lies." Johnny thought 
 that he lived so near to the truth, that you would have 
 thought Truth was his next-door neighbor, or his lodger, 
 and not living down at the bottom of her well as she 
 long has been. 
 
 Truly was that religious world in which Johnny Dar- 
 byshire lived a most singular one. In that part of the 
 country, George Fox had been particularly zealous and 
 well received. A simple country people was just the 
 people to be affected by his warm eloquence and strong 
 manly sense. He settled many meetings there, which, 
 however, William Penn may be said to have unsettled 
 by his planting of Pennsylvania. These Friends nocked 
 over thither with, or after him, and left a mere remnant 
 behind them. This remnant and it was like the rem- 
 nant in a draper's shop, a very old-fashioned one con- 
 tinued still to keep up their meetings, and carry on their 
 affairs as steadily and gravely as Fox and his contempo- 
 raries did, if not so extensively and successfully. They 
 had a meeting at Codnor Breach, at Monny-Ash in the 
 Peak, at Pentridge, at Toad-hole Furnace, at Chester- 
 field, etc. Most of these places were thoroughly country
 
 174 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 places, some of them standing nearly alone in the distant 
 fields ; and the few members belonging to them might 
 be seen on Sundays, mounted on strong horses, a man 
 and his wife often on one, on saddle and pillion, or in 
 strong tax-carts ; and others, generally the young, pro- 
 ceeding on foot over fields and through woods, to these 
 meetings. They were truly an old-world race, clad in 
 very old-world garments. Arrived at their meeting, they 
 sate generally an hour and three quarters in profound 
 silence, for none of them had a minister in them, and 
 then returned again. In winter they generally had a 
 good fire in a chamber, and sate comfortably round it. 
 
 Once a month, they jogged off in similar style to one 
 of these meetings in particular, to what they called their 
 monthly meeting, where they paid in their subscriptions 
 for the poor, and other needs of the society, and read 
 over and made answers to a set of queries on the moral 
 and religious state of their meetings. One would have 
 thought that this business must be so very small that it 
 would be readily despatched ; but not so. Small enough, 
 Heaven knows ! it was ; but then they made a religious 
 duty of its transaction, and went through it as solemnly 
 and deliberately as if the very salvation of the kingdom 
 depended on it. 0, what a mighty balancing of straws 
 was there ! In answering the query, whether their 
 meetings were pretty regularly kept up and attended, 
 though perhaps there was but half a dozen members to 
 one meeting, yet would it be weighed and weighed again 
 whether the phrase should be, that it was " pretty well 
 attended," or "indifferently attended," or "attended, 
 with some exceptions." This stupendous business hav-
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 175 
 
 ing, however, at length been got through, then all the 
 men adjourned to the room where the women had, for 
 the time, been just as laboriously and gravely engaged ; 
 and a table was soon spread by a person agreed with, 
 with a good substantial dinner of roast-beef and plum- 
 pudding; and the good people grew right sociable, 
 chatty, and even merry in their way ; while, all the time 
 in the adjoining stable, or, as in one case, in the stable 
 under them, their steeds, often rough, wild creatures, 
 thrust perhaps twenty into a stable without dividing 
 stalls, were kicking, squealing, and rioting in a manner 
 that obliged some of the good people occasionally to rise 
 from their dinners, and endeavor to diffuse a little of 
 their own quietness among them. Or in summer their 
 horses would be all loose in the graveyard before the 
 meeting, rearing, kicking, and screaming in a most fu- 
 rious manner; which, however, only rarely seemed to 
 disturb the meditations of their masters and mistresses. 
 
 And to these monthly meetings over what long and 
 dreary roads, on what dreadfully wet and wintry days, 
 through what mud and water, did these simple and 
 pious creatures, wrapped in great-coats and thick cloaks, 
 and defended with oil-skin hoods, travel all their lives 
 long? Not a soul was more punctual in attendance 
 than Johnny Darbyshire. He was a little man, wearing 
 a Quaker suit of drab, his coat long, his hat not cocked 
 but slouched, and his boots well worn and well greased. 
 
 Peaceful as he sate in these meetings, yet out of them, 
 as I have remarked, he was a very Tartar, and he often 
 set himself to execute what he deemed justice in a very 
 dogged and original style. We may, as a specimen, take
 
 176 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 this instance. On his way to his regular meeting he 
 had to pass through a toll-bar ; and being on Sundays ex- 
 empt by law from paying at it, it may be supposed that 
 the bar-keeper did not fling open the gate often with 
 the best grace. One Sunday evening, however, Johnny 
 Darbyshire had, from some cause or other, stayed late 
 with his friends after afternoon meeting. When he 
 passed through the toll-gate he gave his usual nod to 
 the keeper, and was passing on; but the man called 
 out to demand the toll, declaring that it was no longer 
 Sunday night, but Monday morning, being past twelve 
 o'clock. 
 
 " Nay, friend, thou art wrong," said Johnny, pulling 
 out his watch : " see, it yet wants a quarter." 
 
 " No, I tell you," replied the keeper, gruffly, " it is 
 past twelve. Look, there is my clock." 
 
 " Ay, friend, but thy clock, like thyself, does n't speak 
 the truth. Like its master, it is a little too hasty. I 
 assure thee my watch is right, for I just now compared 
 it by the steeple-house clock in the town." 
 
 " I tell you," replied the keeper, angrily, " I 've 
 nothing to do with your watch ; I go by my clock, and 
 there it is." 
 
 "Well, I think thou art too exact with me, my 
 friend." 
 
 " Will you pay me or not ? " roared the keeper ; 
 " you go through often enough in the devil's name with- 
 out paying." 
 
 " Gently, gently, my friend," replied Johnny ; " there 
 is the money : and it 's really after twelve o'clock, thou
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 177 
 
 "To be sure." 
 
 " Well, very well ; then, for the next twenty -four 
 hours I can go through again without paying?" 
 
 "To be sure; everybody knows that." 
 
 "Very well, then I now bid thee farewell." And 
 with that, Johnny Darby shire jogged on. The gate- 
 keeper, chuckling at having at last extorted a double 
 toll from the shrewd Quaker, went to bed, not on that 
 quiet road expecting further disturbance till towards 
 daylight ; but, just as he was about to pop into bed, he 
 heard some one ride up and cry, " Gate ! " 
 
 Internally cursing the late traveller, he threw on his 
 things and descended to open the gate, when he was 
 astonished to see the Quaker returned. 
 
 " Thou says it really is past twelve, friend ? " 
 
 " To be sure." 
 
 " Then open the gate : I have occasion to ride back 
 again." 
 
 The gate flew open, Johnny Darbyshire trotted back 
 towards the town, and the man, with double curses in 
 his mind, returned up stairs. This time he was not so 
 sure of exemption from interruption, for he expected the 
 Quaker would in a while be coming back homewards 
 again. And he was quite right. Just as he was about 
 to put out his candle, there was a cry of " Gate." He 
 descended, and behold the Quaker once more presented 
 himself. 
 
 " It really is past twelve, thou says ? " 
 
 "Umph ! " grunted the fellow. 
 
 "Then, of course, I have nothing more to pay. I 
 would not, however, advise thee to go to bed to-night, 
 8 L
 
 178 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 for it is so particularly fine that I propose to enjoy it by 
 riding to and fro here a few hours." 
 
 The fellow, who now saw Johnny Darbyshire's full 
 drift, exclaimed, " Here, for God's sake, sir, take your 
 money back, and let me get a wink of sleep." 
 
 But Johnny refused to receive the money, observing, 
 " If it was after twelve, then the money is justly thine ; 
 but I advise thee another time not to be too exact." 
 And with that he rode off. 
 
 Such was his shrewd, restless, domineering character, 
 that his old friend, the neighboring miller, a shrewd fel- 
 low too, thought there must be something in Quakerism 
 which contributed to this, and was therefore anxious to 
 attend their meetings, and see what it was. How great, 
 however, was his astonishment, on accompanying Johnny, 
 to find about half a dozen people all sitting with their 
 hats on for a couple of hours in profound silence ; except 
 a few shufflings of feet, and blowing of noses ; and then 
 all start up, shake hands, and hurry off. 
 
 " Why, Master Darbyshire," said the dry old miller, 
 " how is this ? Do you sit without parson or clerk, and 
 expect to learn religion by looking at your shoe-toes ? 
 By Leddy ! this war n't th' way George Fox went on. 
 He was a very talking man, or he would na ha' got such 
 a heap of folks together, as he did. You 've clearly got- 
 ten o' th' wrong side o' th' post, Johnny, depend on 't ; 
 an' I dunna wonder now that you've dwindled awee 
 so." 
 
 But if Johnny was as still as a fish at the Quaker 
 mestings, he had enough to say at home, and at the 
 parish meetings. He had such a spice of the tyrant in
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIftE. 179 
 
 him, that he could not even entertain the idea of marry- 
 ing, without it must be a sort of shift for the mastery. 
 He, therefore, not only cast Ids eye on one of the most 
 high-spirited women that he knew in his own society, 
 but actually one on the largest scale of physical dimen- 
 sions. If he had one hero of his admiration more than 
 another, it was a little dwarf at Mansfield, who used to 
 wear a soldier's jacket, and who had taken it into his 
 head to marry a very tall woman, whom he had reduced 
 to such perfect subjection, that he used from time to 
 time to evince his mastery by mounting a round table 
 and making the wife walk round it while he belabored 
 her lustily with a strap. 
 
 Johnny, having taken his resolve, made no circum- 
 bendibus in his addresses ; but one day, as he was alone 
 in the company of the lady, by name Lizzy Lorimer, 
 " Lizzy," said he, " I '11 tell thee what I have been think- 
 ing about. I think thou 'd make me a very good wife." 
 
 " Well," replied Lizzy ; " sure, is n't that extraordi- 
 nary ? I was just thinking the very same thing." 
 
 " That 's right ! Well done, my wench, now that 's 
 what I call hitting the nail on the head, like a right sen- 
 sible woman ! " cried Johnny, fetching her a slap on the 
 shoulder, and laughing heartily. " That 's doing the 
 thing now to some tune. I 'm for none of your dilly- 
 dally ways. I once knew a young fellow that was des- 
 perately smitten by a young woman, and though he could 
 pluck up courage enough to go and see her, he could n't 
 summon courage enough to speak out his mind when he 
 got there ; and so he and the damsel sate opposite one 
 another before the fire. She knew well enough all the
 
 180 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 while you 're sharp enough, you women what he 
 was after ; and there they sate and sate, and at last he 
 picked up a cinder off the hearth, and looking very fool- 
 ish, said, ' I 've a good mind to fling a cowk' at thee ! ' 
 At which the brave wench, in great contempt, cried, 
 ' I '11 soon fling one at thee, if thou art n't off ! ' That 's 
 just as thou 'd ha' done, Lizzy, and as I shouldn't," said 
 Johnny, gayly, and laughing more heartily than be- 
 fore. 
 
 That was the sum and substance of Johnny Darby- 
 shire's courtship. All the world said the trouble would 
 come afterwards ; but if it did come, it was not to John- 
 ny. Never was chanticleer so crouse on his own dung- 
 hill, as Johnny Darbyshire was in his own house. He 
 was lord and master there to a certainty. In doors and 
 out, he shouted, hurried, ran to and fro, and made men, 
 maids, and Lizzy herself, fly at his approach, as if he had 
 got a whole cargo of Mercury's wings, and put them on 
 their feet. It was the same in parish affairs ; and the 
 fame of Johnny's eloquence at vestries is loud to this 
 day. On one occasion there was a most hot debate on 
 the voting of a church-rate, which should embrace a new 
 pulpit. Johnny had hurt his foot with a stub of wood as 
 he was hurrying on his men at work in thinning a plan- 
 tation. It had festered and inflamed his leg to a terrible 
 size ; but, spite of that, he ordered out his cart with a 
 bed laid in it, and came up to the door of the vestry- 
 room, where he caused himself to be carried in on the bed, 
 and set on the vestry-room floor, not very distant from 
 the clergyman. Here he waited, listening first to one 
 speaker and then another, till the debate had grown very
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIEE. 181 
 
 loud, when he gave a great hem ; and all were silent, 
 for every one knew that Johnny was going to speak. 
 
 " Now, I '11 tell you what, lads," said Johnny ; " you 've 
 made noise enough to frighten all the jackdaws out 
 of the steeple, and there they are flying all about with a 
 pretty cawarring. You 've spun a yarn as long as all 
 the posts and rails round my seven acres, and I duuna 
 see as you 've yet hedged in so much as th' owd wise 
 men o' Gotham did, and that 's a cuckoo. I 've heard 
 just one sensible word, and that was to recommend a 
 cast-iron pulpit, in preference to a wooden 'un. As to a 
 church-rate to repair th' owd steeple-house, why, my ad- 
 vice is to pull th' owd thing down, stick and stone, and 
 mend your roads with it. It 's a capital heap o' stone in 
 it, that one must allow, and your roads are pestilent 
 bad. Down with the old daw-house, I say, and mend 
 th' roads wi' 't, and set th' parson here up for a guide- 
 post. Oh ! it 's a rare 'un he 'd make ; for he 's always 
 pointing th' way to the folks, but I never see that he 
 moves one inch himself." 
 
 "Mr. Darbyshire," exclaimed the clergyman, in high 
 resentment, " that is very uncivil in my presence, to say 
 the least of it." 
 
 " Civil or uncivil," returned Johnny ; " it 's the truth, 
 lad, and thou can take it just as thou likes. I did not 
 come here to bandy compliments ; so I may as well be 
 hanged for an old sheep as for a lamb, we '11 not make 
 two mouthfuls of a cherry ; my advice is then to have a 
 cast-iron pulpit, by all means, and while you are about 
 it, a cast-iron parson, too. It will do just as well as our 
 neighbor Diggory Dyson here, and a plaguy deal cheaper,
 
 182 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 for it will require neither tithes, glebe, Easter-dues, nor 
 church-rates ! " 
 
 Having delivered himself of this remarkable oration, 
 to the great amusement of his fellow-parishioners, and 
 the equal exasperation of the clergyman, Johnny ordered 
 himself to be again hoisted into his cart, and rode home 
 in great glory, boasting that he had knocked all the wind 
 out of the parson, and if he got enough again to preach 
 his sermon on Sunday, it would be all. 
 
 It was only on such occasions as these that Johnny Dar- 
 byshire ever appeared under the church roof. Once, on 
 the occasion of the funeral of an old neighbor, which, for 
 a wonder, he attended, he presented himself there, but with 
 as little satisfaction to the clergyman, and less to himself. 
 
 He just marched into the church with his hat on, 
 which, being removed by the clergyman's orders, Johnny 
 declared that he had a good mind to walk out of that 
 well of a place, and would do so only out of respect to 
 his old neighbor. With looks of great wrath he seated 
 himself at a good distance from the clergyman ; and as 
 this gentleman was proceeding, in none of the clearest 
 tones, certainly, to read the appropriate service, Johnny 
 suddenly shouted out, " Speak up, man, speak up ! 
 What art mumbling at there, man ? We canna hear 
 what thou says here ! " 
 
 " Who is that ? " demanded the clergyman, solemnly, 
 and looking much as if he did not clearly perceive who 
 it was. " Who is that who interrupts the service ? I 
 will not proceed till he be removed." 
 
 The beadle approached Johnny, and begged that he 
 would withdraw.
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRK. 183 
 
 " Oh ! " said Johnny, aloud, so as to be heard through 
 all the church, " I '11 sit i' th' porch. I 'd much rather. 
 What 's the use sitting here where one can hear nothing 
 but a buzzing like a bee in a blossom ? " 
 
 Johnny accordingly withdrew to the porch, where 
 some of his neighbors, hurrying to him when the funeral 
 was about to proceed from the church to the grave, said, 
 " Mr. Darbyshire, what have you done ? You '11 as 
 surely be put into th' spiritual court, as you 're a living 
 man. You 'd better ax the parson's pardon, and as soon 
 as you can." 
 
 Accordingly, as soon as the funeral was over, and the 
 clergyman was about to withdraw, up marched Johnny 
 to him, and said, " What, I reckon I 've affronted thee 
 with bidding thee speak up. But thou should speak up, 
 man ; thou should speak up, or what art perched up 
 aloft there for. But, however, as you scolkrds are 
 rayther testy, I know, in being taken up before folks, I 
 mun beg thy pardon for 't'arno." * 
 
 " O, Mr. Darbyshire," said the clergyman, with much 
 dignity, " that will not do, I assure you. I cannot pass 
 over such conduct in such a manner. I shall take 
 another course with you." 
 
 " O, just as tha' woot. I 've axed thy pardon, have 
 n't I ? and if that wunna do, why, thou mun please thy- 
 sen!" 
 
 Johnny actually appeared very likely to get a proper 
 castigation this time ; but, however it was, he certainly 
 escaped. The parishioners advised the clergyman, to 
 
 * For what I know.
 
 184 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 take no notice of the offence, everybody, they said, 
 knew Johnny, and if he called him into the spiritual 
 court, he would be just as bold and saucy, and might 
 raise a good deal of public scandal. The clergyman, 
 who, unfortunately, was but like too many country 
 clergymen of the time, addicted to a merry glass in the 
 village public-house, thought perhaps that this was only 
 too likely, and so the matter dropped. 
 
 For twenty years did Johnny Darbyshire thus give 
 free scope to tongue and hand in his parish. He ruled 
 paramount over wife, children, house, servants, parish, 
 and everybody. He made work go on like the flying 
 clouds of March ; and at fair and market, at meeting and 
 vestry, he had his fling and his banter at the expense of 
 his neighbors, as if the world was all his own, and would 
 never come to an end. But now came an event, arising, 
 as so often is the case, out of the merest trifle, that more 
 than all exhibited the indomitable stiffness and obstinacy 
 of his character. 
 
 Johnny Darbyshire had some fine, rich meadow-land, 
 on the banks of the river Derwent, where he took in 
 cattle and horses to graze during the summer. Hither a 
 gentleman had sent a favorite and valuable blood mare 
 to run a few months with her foal. He had stipulated 
 that the greatest care should be taken of both mare and 
 foal, and that no one, on any pretence whatever, should 
 mount the former. All this Johnny Darbyshire had most 
 fully promised. " Nay, he was as fond of a good bit of 
 horse-flesh as any man alive, and he would use mare and 
 foal just as if they were his own." 
 
 This assurance, which sounded very well indeed, was
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 185 
 
 kept by Johnny, as it proved, much more to the letter 
 than the gentleman intended. To his great astonish- 
 ment, it was not long before he one day saw Johnny 
 Darbysbire come riding on a little shaggy horse down 
 the village where he lived, leading the foal in a halter. 
 
 He hurried out to inquire the cause of this, too well 
 auguring some sad mischief, when Johnny, shaking his 
 head, said, " 111 luck, my friend, never comes alone ; 
 it 's an old saying, that it never rains but it pours ; and 
 so it 's been with me. T' other day I 'd a son drowned, 
 as fine a lad as ever walked in shoe-leather ; and in hur- 
 rying to th' doctor, how should luck have it, but down 
 comes th' mare with her foot in a hole, breaks her leg, 
 and was obligated to be killed ; and here 's th' poor inno- 
 cent foal. It 's a bad job, a very bad job ; but I 've the 
 worst on 't, and it canna be helped ; so, prithee, say as 
 little as thou can about it, here 's the foal, poor, dumb 
 thing, at all events." 
 
 " But what business," cried the gentleman, enraged, 
 and caring, in his wrath, not a button for Johnny Darby- 
 shire's drowned son, in the exasperation of his own loss, 
 " but what business had you riding to the doctor, or 
 the devil, on my mare ? Did not I enjoin you, did you 
 not solemnly promise me, that nobody should cross the 
 mare's back?" 
 
 Johnny shook his head. He had indeed promised " to 
 use her as his own," and he had done it to some pur- 
 pose ; but that was little likely to throw cold water on 
 the gentleman's fire. It was in vain that Johnny tried 
 the pathetic of the drowning boy ; it was lost on the man 
 who had lost his favorite mare, and who declared that he
 
 186 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 would rather have lost a thousand pounds, a hundred 
 was exactly her value, and he vowed all sorts of ven- 
 geance and of law. 
 
 And he kept his word too. Johnny was deaf to pay- 
 ing for the mare. He had lost his boy, and his summer's 
 run of the mare and foal, and that he thought enough 
 for a poor man like him, as he pleased to call himself. 
 An action was commenced against him, of which he took 
 not the slightest notice till it came into court. These 
 lawyers, he said, were dear chaps, he 'd have nothing to 
 do with them. But the lawyers were determined to have 
 to do with him, for they imagined that the Quaker had 
 a deep purse, and they longed to be poking their long, 
 jewelled fingers to the bottom of it. 
 
 The cause actually came into court at the assizes, and 
 the counsel for the plaintiff got up and stated the case, 
 offering to call his evidence, but first submitted that he 
 could not find that any one was retained on behalf of 
 the defendant, and that, therefore, he probably meant to 
 suffer the cause to go by default. The court inquired 
 whether any counsel at the bar was instructed to appear 
 for Darbyshire, in the case Shiffnal v. Darbyshire, but 
 there was no reply ; and learned gentlemen looked at one 
 another, and all shook their learned wigs ; and the judge 
 was about to declare that the cause was forfeited by the 
 defendant, John Darbyshire, by non-appearance at the 
 place of trial, when there was seen a bustle near the box 
 of the clerk of the court ; there was a hasty plucking off 
 of a large hat, which somebody had apparently walked 
 into court with on ; and the moment afterwards a short 
 man, in a Quaker dress, with his grizzled hair hanging
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIEE. 187 
 
 in long locks on his shoulders, and smoothed close down 
 on the forehead, stepped, with a peculiar air of confi- 
 dence and cunning, up to the bar. His tawny, sunburnt 
 features, and small dark eyes, twinkling with an expres- 
 sion of much country subtlety, proclaimed him at once 
 a character. At once a score of voices murmured, 
 " There 's Johnny Darbyshire himself ! " 
 
 He glanced, with a quick and peculiar look, at the 
 counsel, sitting at their table with their papers before 
 them, who, on their part, did not fail to return his sur- 
 vey with a stare of mixed wonder and amazement. You 
 could see it as plainly as possible written on their faces, 
 " Who have we got here ? There is some fun brew- 
 ing here, to a certainty." 
 
 But Johnny raised his eyes from them to the bench, 
 where sat the judge, and sent them rapidly thence to the 
 jury-box, where they seemed to rest with a considerable 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "Is this a witness?" inquired the judge. "If so, 
 what is he doing there, or why does he appear at all, 
 till we know whether the cause is to be defended ? " 
 
 " Ay, Lord Judge, as they call thee, I reckon I am a 
 witness, and the best witness too, that can be had in the 
 case, for I'm the man himself; I'm John Darbyshire. 
 I did n't mean to have anything to do with these chaps i' 
 their wigs and gowns, with their long, dangling sleeves ; 
 and I dunna yet mean to have anything to do wi' 'em. 
 But I just heard one of 'em tell thee, that this cause 
 was not going to be defended ; and that put my monkey 
 up, and so, thinks I, I '11 e'en up and tell 'em that it will 
 be defended though ; ay, and I reckon it will too ; John-
 
 188 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 ny Darbyshire was never yet afraid of the face of any 
 man, or any set of men." 
 
 " If you are what you say, good man," said the judge, 
 " defendant in this case, you had better appoint counsel 
 to state it for you." 
 
 "Nay, nay, Lord Judge, as they call thee, hold a 
 bit; I know better than that. Catch Johnny Darby- 
 shire at flinging his money into a lawyer's bag! No, 
 no. I know them chaps wi' wigs well enough. They 've 
 tongues as long as a besom's teal, and fingers as long to 
 poke after 'em. Nay, nay, I don't get my money so 
 easily as to let them scrape it up by armfuls. I 've 
 worked early and late, in heat and cold, for my bit o' 
 money, and long enough too, before these smart chaps 
 had left their mother's apron-strings ; and let them catch 
 a coin of it, if they can. No ! I know this case better 
 than any other man can, and for why ? Because I was 
 in it. It was me that had the mare to summer ; it was 
 me that rode her to the doctor ; I was in at th' breaking 
 of th' leg, and, for that reason, I can tell you exactly 
 how it all happened. And what 's any of those coun- 
 sellors, sharp, and fine, and knowing as they look, 
 with their tails and their powder, what are they to 
 know about the matter, except what somebody 'd have 
 to tell 'em first ? I tell you, I saw it, I did it, and so 
 there needs no twice telling of the story." 
 
 " But are you going to produce evidence ? " inquired 
 the counsel for the other side. 
 
 "Evidence? to be sure I am. What does the chap 
 mean? Evidence? why, I'm defender and evidence 
 and all!"
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 189 
 
 There was a good deal of merriment in the court, and 
 at the bar, in which the judge himself joined. 
 
 " There wants no evidence besides me ; for, as I tell 
 you, I did it, and I 'm not going to deny it." 
 
 " Stop ! " cried the judge ; " this is singular. If Mr. 
 Darbyshire means to plead his own cause, and to include 
 in it his evidence, he must be sworn. Let the oath be 
 administered to him." 
 
 " Nay, I reckon thou need put none of thy oaths to 
 me! My father never brought me up to cursing and 
 swearing, and such like wickedness. He left that to 
 th' ragamuffins and rapscallions i' th' street. I 'm no 
 swearer, nor liar neither, thou may take my word safe 
 enough." 
 
 "Let him take his affirmation, if he be a member of 
 the Society of Friends." 
 
 " Ay, now thou speaks sense, Lord Judge. Ay, I 'm 
 a member, I warrant me." 
 
 The clerk of the court here took his affirmation, and 
 then Johnny proceeded. 
 
 " Well, I don't feel myself any better or any honester 
 now for making that affirmation. I was just going to 
 tell the plain truth before, and I can only tell th' same 
 now. And, as I said, I 'm not going to deny what I 've 
 done. No ! Johnny Darbyshire 's not the man that ever 
 did a thing and then denied it. Can any of these chaps 
 i' th' wigs say as much? Ay, now I reckon," added he, 
 shaking his head archly at the gentlemen of the bar, 
 " now I reckon you 'd like, a good many on you there, 
 to be denying this thing stoutly for me ? You 'd soon 
 persuade a good many simple folks here that I never did
 
 190 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 ride the mare, never broke her leg, nay, never saw 
 her that day at all. Wouldn't you, now? wouldn't 
 you?" 
 
 Here the laughter, on all sides, was loudly renewed. 
 
 " But I '11 take precious good care ye dunna ! No, 
 no ! that 's the very thing that I 've stepped up here for. 
 It 's to keep your consciences clear of a few more addi- 
 tional lies. O dear ! I 'm quite grieved for you, when I 
 think what falsities and deceit you '11 one day have to 
 answer for, as it is." 
 
 The gentlemen, thus complimented, appeared to enjoy 
 the satire of Johnny Darhyshire ; and still more was it 
 relished in the body of the court. 
 
 But again remarked the judge, " Mr. Darbyshire, I 
 advise you to leave the counsel for the plaintiff to prove 
 his case against you." 
 
 " I 'st niver oss ! " exclaimed Johnny, with indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 " I 'st niver oss ! " repeated the judge. " What does 
 he mean ? I don't understand him." And he looked 
 inquiringly at the bar. 
 
 " He means," my lord, said a young counsel, " that 
 he shall never offer, never attempt to do so." 
 
 " That 's a Darbyshire chap now," said Johnny, turn- 
 ing confidentially towards the jury-box, where he saw 
 some of his county farmers. " He understands good 
 English." 
 
 " But, good neighbors there," added he, addressing the 
 jury, " for I reckon it 's you that I must talk to on this 
 business ; I 'm glad to see that you are, a good many on 
 you, farmers like myself, and so up to these things. To
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIEE. 191 
 
 make a short matter of it, then, I had the mare and 
 foal to summer ; and the gentleman laid it down, strong 
 and fast, that she should n't be ridden by anybody. 
 And I promised him that I would do my best, that no- 
 body should ride her. I told him that I would use her 
 just as if she was my own, and I meant it. I meant 
 to do the handsome by her and her master too ; for I 
 need n't tell you that I 'm too fond of a bit of good 
 blood to see it willingly come to any harm. Nay, nay, 
 that never was the way of Johnny Darbyshire. And 
 there she was, the pretty creature, with her handsome 
 foal cantering and capering round her in the meadow ; it 
 was a pleasure to see it, it was indeed ! And often have 
 I stood and leaned over the gate and watched them, till 
 I felt a'most as fond of them as of my own children ; 
 and never would leg have crossed her while she was in. 
 my possession had that not happened that may happen 
 to any man, when he least expects it. 
 
 "My wife had been ill, very ill. My poor Lizzy, I 
 thought I should ha' certainly lost her. The doctors 
 said she must be kept quiet in bed ; if she stirred for five 
 days she was a lost woman. Well, one afternoon as I 
 was cutting a bit o' grass at th' bottom o' th' orchard 
 for the osses, again they came from ploughing the fal- 
 lows, I heard a shriek that went through me like a bag- 
 gonet. Down I flings th' scythe. ' That 's Lizzy, and 
 no other ! ' I shouted to myself. ' She 's out of bed, 
 and, goodness ! what can it be ? She 's ten to one gone 
 mad with a brain fever ! ' There seemed to have fallen 
 ten thousand millstones on my heart. I tried to run, 
 but I couldn't. I was as cold as ice. I was as fast
 
 192 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 rooted to the ground as a tree. There was another shriek 
 more piercing than before and I was off like an arrow 
 from a bow I was loose then. I was all on fire. I 
 ran like a madman till I came within sight of th' house ; 
 and there I saw Lizzy in her nightgown with half her 
 body out of the window, shrieking and wringing her 
 hands like any crazed body. 
 
 " ' Stop ! stop ! ' I cried, ' Lizzy ! Lizzy ! back ! back ! 
 for Heaven's sake ! ' 
 
 " ' There ! there ! ' screamed she, pointing with staring 
 eyes and ghastly face down into the Darrant that runs 
 under the windows. 
 
 " ' God ! ' I exclaimed, ' she '11 drown herself ! she 'a 
 crazed, she means to fling herself in ' groaning as I 
 ran, and trying to keep crying to her, but my voice was 
 dead in my throat. 
 
 " When I reached her chamber, I found her fallen on 
 the floor, she was as white as a ghost, and sure enough 
 I thought she was one. I lifted her upon the bed, and 
 screamed amain for the nurse, for the maid, but not a 
 soul came. I rubbed Lizzy's hands ; clapped them ; 
 tried her smelling-bottle. At length she came to herself 
 with a dreadful groan, flashed open her eyes wide on 
 me, and cried, ' Didst see him ? Didst save him P 
 Where is he ? Where is he ? ' 
 
 " ' Merciful Providence ! ' I exclaimed. ' She 's gone 
 only too sure ! It 's all over with her ! ' 
 
 " ' Where is he ? Where 's my dear Sam ? Thou 
 did n't let him drown ? ' 
 
 " ' Drown ? Sam ? What ? ' I cried. ' What dost 
 mean, Lizzy ? '
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 193 
 
 " ' O John ! Sammy ! he was drowning i' th' Dar- 
 rant oh ! ' 
 
 " She fainted away again, and a dreadful truth flashed 
 on my mind. She had seen our little Sammy drowning ; 
 she had heard his screams, and sprung out of bed, for- 
 getful of herself, and looking out, saw our precious boy 
 in the water. He was sinking ! He cried for help ! 
 there was nobody near, and there Lizzy stood and saw 
 him going, going, going down ! There was not a soul 
 in the house. The maid was gone to see her mother 
 that was dying in the next village ; the nurse had been 
 suddenly obliged to run off to the doctor's for some 
 physic ; Lizzy had promised to lie still till I came in, and 
 in the mean time this happens. When I understood 
 her I flew down stairs, and towards the part of the river 
 she had pointed to. I gazed here and there, and at 
 length caught sight of the poor boy's coat floating, and 
 with a rake I caught hold of it, and dragged him to land. 
 But it was too late ! Frantic, however, as I was, I flew 
 down to the meadow with a bridle in my hand, mounted 
 the blood mare, she was the fleetest in the field by 
 half, and away to the doctor. We went like the wind. 
 I took a short cut for better speed, but it was a hobbly 
 road. Just as I came in sight of the doctor's house there 
 was a slough that had been mended with stones and 
 fagots and anything that came to hand. I pushed her 
 over, but her foot caught in a hole amongst the sticks, 
 and crack ! it was over in a moment. 
 
 " Neighbors, neighbors ! think of my situation. Think 
 of my feelings. Oh ! I was all one great groan ! My 
 wife ! my boy ! the mare ! it seemed as if Job's devil 
 
 VOL. IX. 9 M
 
 194 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 was really sent out against me. But there was no time 
 to think ; I could only feel, and I could do that running. 
 I sprang over the hedge. I was across the fields, and at 
 the doctor's ; ay, long before I could find breath to tell 
 him what was amiss. But he thought it was my wife 
 that was dreadfully worse. ' I expected as much,' said 
 he, and that instant we were in the gig that stood at the 
 door, and we were going like fire back again. But " 
 
 Here Johnny Darbyshire paused; the words stuck 
 in his throat, his lips trembled, his face gradually 
 grew pale and livid, as if he were going to give up the 
 ghost. The court was extremely moved : there was a 
 deep silence, and there were heard sobs from the throng 
 behind. The judge sate with his eyes fixed on his book 
 of minutes, and not a voice even said " Go on." 
 
 Johnny Darbyshire meantime, overcome by his feelings, 
 had sate down at the bar, a glass of water was handed 
 to him, he wiped his forehead with his handkerchief 
 several times, heaved a heavy convulsive sigh or two 
 from his laboring chest, and again arose. 
 
 "Judge, then," said he, again addressing the jury, 
 " what a taking I was in. My boy but no I canna 
 touch on that, he was gone ! " said he in a husky voice 
 that seemed to require all his physical force to send it 
 from the bottom of his chest. " My wife was for weeks 
 worse than dead, and never has been, and never will be, 
 herself again. When I inquired after the mare, you 
 can guess when was a broken leg of a horse success- 
 fully set again ? They had been obliged to kill her ! 
 
 " Now, neighbors, I deny nothing. I wunna ! but 
 I '11 put it to any of you, if you were in like case, and
 
 JOHNNY DAEBYSHIRE. 195 
 
 a fleet mare stood ready at hand, would you have weighed 
 anything but her speed against a wife and a child ? 
 No, had she been my own, I should have taken her, and 
 that was all I had promised ! But there, neighbors, you 
 have the whole business, and so do just as you like, 
 I leave it wi' you." 
 
 Johnny Darbyshire stepped down from the bar, and 
 disappeared in the crowd. There was a deep silence in 
 the court, and the very jury were seen dashing some 
 drops from their eyes. They appeared to look up to the 
 judge as if they were ready to give in at once their ver- 
 dict, and nobody could doubt for which party; but at 
 this moment the counsel for the plaintiif arose, and 
 said: 
 
 " Gentlemen of the jury, you know the old saying 
 ' He that pleads his own cause has a fool for his cli- 
 ent.' We cannot say that the proverb has held good in 
 this case. The defendant has proved himself no fool. 
 Never in my life have I listened to the pleadings of an 
 opponent with deeper anxiety. Nature and the awful 
 chances of life have made the defendant in this case more 
 than eloquent. For a moment I actually trembled for 
 the cause of my client, but it was for a moment only. 
 I should have been something less than human if I had 
 not, like every person in this court, been strangely af- 
 fected by the singular appeal of the singular man who 
 has just addressed you ; but I should have been some- 
 thing less than a good lawyer if I did not again revert 
 confidently to those facts which were in the possession 
 of my witnesses now waiting to be heard. Had this 
 been the only instance in which the defendant had broken
 
 196 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 his engagement, and mounted this mare, I should in my 
 own mind have flung off all hope of a verdict from you. 
 God and nature would have been too strong for me in 
 your hearts ; but, fortunately for my client, it is not so. 
 I will show you on the most unquestionable evidence 
 that it was not the first nor the second time that Mr. 
 Darbyshire had mounted this prohibited but tempting 
 steed. He had been seen, as one of the witnesses ex- 
 presses it, ' frisking about ' on this beautiful animal, and 
 asking his neighbors what they thought of such a bit of 
 blood as that. He had on one occasion been as far as 
 Crich fair with her, and had allowed her to be cheapened 
 by several dealers as if she were his own, and then proudly 
 rode off, saying, ' Nay, nay, it was not money that would 
 purchase pretty Nancy,' as he called her." Here the 
 counsel called several respectable farmers who amply 
 corroborated these statements ; and he then proceeded. 
 " Gentlemen, there I rest my case. You will forget the 
 wife and the child, and call to mind the ' frisking,' and 
 Crich fair. But to put the matter beyond a doubt we 
 will call the defendant again, and put a few questions to 
 him." 
 
 The court crier called, but it was in vain. Johnny 
 Darbyshire was no longer there. As he had said, " he 
 had left it wi' 'em," and was gone. The weight of evi- 
 dence prevailed ; the jury gave a verdict for the plaintiff, 
 one hundred pounds. 
 
 The verdict was given, but the money was not yet got. 
 When called on for payment, Johnny Darbyshire took no 
 further notice of the demand than he had done of the 
 action. An execution was issued against his goods ; but
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIEE. 197 
 
 when it was served, it was found that he had no goods. 
 A brother stepped in with a clear title to all on Johnny's 
 farm by a deed dated six years before, on plea of moneys 
 advanced, and Johnny stood only as manager. 
 
 The plaintiff was so enraged at this barefaced scheme 
 to bar his just claim, Johnny's bail sureties being found 
 equally unsubstantial, that he resolved to arrest Johnny's 
 person. The officers arrived at Johnny's house to serve 
 the writ, and found him sitting at his luncheon alone. It 
 was a fine summer's day, everybody was out in the fields 
 at the hay. Door and window stood open, and Johnny, 
 who had been out on some business, was refreshing him- 
 self before going to the field too. The officers entering 
 declared him their prisoner. " Well," said Johnny, " I 
 know that very well. Don't I know a bum-baily when 
 I see him ? But sit down and take something ; I 'm 
 hungry if you ar'na, at all events." 
 
 The men gladly sate down to a fine piece of cold beef, 
 and Johnny said, "Come, fill your glasses; I'll fetch 
 another jug of ale. I reckon you'll not give me a 
 glass of ale like this where we are going." 
 
 He took a candle, descended the cellar, one of the 
 officers peeping after him to see that all was right, and 
 again sitting down to the beef and beer. Both of them 
 found the beef splendid ; but beginning to find the ale 
 rather long in making its appearance, they descended the 
 cellar, and found Johnny Darbyshire had gone quietly 
 off at a back door. 
 
 Loud was the laughter of the country round at 
 Johnny Darbyshire's outwitting of the bailiffs, and des- 
 perate was their quest after him. It was many a day,
 
 198 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 however, before they again got sight of him. When, 
 they did, it was on his own hearth, just as they had 
 done at first. Not a soul was visible but himself. 
 The officers declared now that they would make sure 
 of him, and yet drink with him too. 
 
 "With all my heart," said Johnny; "and draw it 
 yourselves, too, if you will." 
 
 " Nay, I will go down with you," said one ; " my 
 comrade shall wait here above." 
 
 " Good," said Johnny, lighting a candle. 
 
 "Now, mind, young man," added he, going hastily 
 forwards towards the cellar steps, " mind, I say, 
 some of these steps are bad. It 's a dark road, and 
 nay, here ! this way, follow me exactly." 
 
 But the man was too eager not to let Johnny go too 
 far before him ; he did not observe that Johnny went 
 some distance round before he turned down the steps. 
 There was no hand-rail to this dark flight of steps, and 
 he walked straight over into the opening. 
 
 " Hold ! hold ! Heavens ! the man 's gone, did n't 
 I tell him! " 
 
 A heavy plunge and a groan announced the man's 
 descent into the cellar. 
 
 " Help ! help ! " cried Johnny Darbyshire, rushing 
 wildly into the room above. " The man, like a madman, 
 has walked over the landing into the cellar. If he is n't 
 killed, it 's a mercy. Help ! " snatching another candle ; 
 " but hold take heed ! take heed ! or thou 'It go over 
 after him ! " 
 
 With good lighting, and careful examination of the 
 way, the officer followed. They found the other man
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 199 
 
 lying on his back, bleeding profusely from his head, and 
 insensible. 
 
 " We must have help ! there 's no time to lose ! " 
 cried Johnny Darbyshire, springing up stairs. 
 
 " Stop ! " cried the distracted officer, left with his 
 bleeding fellow, and springing up the steps after Johnny. 
 But he found a door already bolted in his face ; and 
 cursing Johnny for a treacherous and murderous scoun- 
 drel, he began vainly denouncing his barbarity in leaving 
 his comrade thus to perish, and kicked and thundered 
 lustily at the door. 
 
 But he did Johnny Darbyshire injustice. Johnny had 
 no wish to hurt a hair of any man's head. The officer 
 had been eager and confident, and occasioned his own 
 fall ; and even now Johnny had not deserted him. He 
 appeared on horseback at the barn where threshers were 
 at work ; told them what had happened ; gave them the 
 key of the cellar door, bade them off and help all they 
 could ; and said he was riding for the doctor. The doc- 
 tor indeed soon came, and pronounced the man's life in 
 no danger, though he was greatly scratched and bruised. 
 Johnny himself was again become invisible. 
 
 From this time for nine months the pursuit of Johnny 
 Darbyshire was a perfect campaign, full of stratagems, 
 busy marchings, and expectations, but of no surprises. 
 House, barns, fields, and woods, were successively fer- 
 reted through, as report whispered that he was in one 
 or the other. But it was to no purpose ; not a glimpse 
 of him was ever caught ; and fame now loudly declared 
 that he had safely transferred himself to America. Un- 
 fortunately for the truth of this report, which had be-
 
 200 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 come as well received as the soundest piece of history, 
 Johnny Darbyshire was one fine moonlight night encoun- 
 tered full face to face, by some poachers crossing the 
 fields near his house. The search became again more 
 active than ever, and the ruins of Wingfield Manor, 
 which stood on a hill not far from his dwelling, were 
 speedily suspected to be haunted by him. These were 
 hunted over and over, but no trace of Johnny Darby- 
 shire, or any sufficient hiding-place for him, could be 
 found, till, one fine summer evening, the officers were 
 lucky enough to hit on a set of steps which descended 
 amongst bushes into the lower part of the ruins. Here, 
 going on, they found themselves, to their astonishment, 
 in an ample old kitchen, with a fire of charcoal in the 
 grate, and Johnny Darbyshire with a friend or two sit- 
 ting most cosily over their tea. Before they could re- 
 cover from their surprise, Johnny, however, had vanished 
 by some door or window, they could not tell exactly 
 where, for there were sundry doorways issuing into dark 
 places of which former experience bade them beware. 
 Rushing up again, therefore, to the light, they soon 
 posted some of their number around the ruins, and, with 
 other assistance sent for from the village, they descended 
 again, and commenced a vigilant search. This had been 
 patiently waited for a good while by those posted with- 
 out, when suddenly, as rats are seen to issue from a rick 
 when the ferret is in it, Johnny Darbyshire was seen 
 ascending hurriedly a broken staircase, that was partly 
 exposed to the open day by the progress of dilapidation, 
 and terminated abruptly above. 
 Here, at this abrupt and dizzy termination, for the
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 201 
 
 space of half a minute, stood Johnny Darbyshire, looking 
 round, as if calmly surveying the landscape, which lay, 
 with all its greenness and ascending smokes of cottage 
 chimneys, in the gleam of the setting sun. Another in- 
 stant, and an officer of the law was seen cautiously 
 scrambling up the same ruinous path ; but, when he had 
 reached within about half a dozen yards or so of Johnny, 
 he paused, gazed upwards and downwards, and then re- 
 mained stationary. Johnny, taking one serious look at 
 him, now waved his hand as bidding him adieu, and dis- 
 appeared in a mass of ivy. 
 
 The astonished officer on the ruined stair now hastily 
 retreated downwards ; the watchers on the open place 
 around ran to the side of the building where Johnny 
 Darbyshire had thus disappeared, but had scarcely 
 reached the next corner, when they heard a loud de- 
 scent of stones and rubbish, and, springing forward, saw 
 these rushing to the ground at the foot of the old Manor, 
 and some of them springing and bounding down the hill 
 below. What was most noticeable, however, was Johnny 
 Darbyshire himself, lying stretched, apparently lifeless, 
 on the greensward at some little distance. 
 
 On examining afterwards the place, they found that 
 Johnny had descended between a double wall, a way, 
 no doubt, well known to him, and thence had endeav- 
 ored to let himself down the wall by the ivy which 
 grew enormously strong there ; but the decayed state 
 of the stones had caused the hold of the ivy to give 
 way, and Johnny had been precipitated, probably from 
 a considerable height. He still held quantities of leaves 
 and ivy twigs in his hands. 
 9*
 
 202 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 He was conveyed as speedily as possible on a door 
 to his own house, where it was ascertained by the sur- 
 geon that life was sound in him, but that besides 
 plenty of severe contusions, he had broken a thigh. 
 When this news reached his persecutor, though Johnny 
 was declared to have rendered himself, by his resistance 
 to the officers of the law, liable to outlawry, this gen- 
 tleman declared that he was quite satisfied ; that Johnny 
 was punished enough, especially as he had been visited 
 with the very mischief he had occasioned to the mare. 
 He declined to proceed any further against him, paid 
 all charges and costs, and the court itself thought fit 
 to take no further cognizance of the matter. 
 
 Johnny was, indeed, severely punished. For nearly 
 twelve months he was confined to the house, and never 
 did his indomitable and masterful spirit exhibit itself so 
 strongly and characteristically as during this time. He 
 was a most troublesome subject in the house. As he 
 sate in his bed, he ordered, scolded, and ruled with a 
 rod of iron all the women, including his wife and 
 daughter, so that they would have thought the leg and 
 the confinement nothing to what they had to suffer. 
 
 He at length had himself conveyed to the sitting-room 
 or the kitchen, as he pleased, in a great easy-chair ; 
 but as he did not satisfy himself that he was sufficiently 
 obeyed, he one day sent the servant-girl to fetch him 
 the longest scarlet-bean stick that she could find in the 
 garden. Armed with this, he now declared that he 
 would have his own way, he could reach them now ! 
 And, accordingly, there he sate, ordering and scolding, 
 and, if not promptly obeyed in his most extravagant
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 203 
 
 commands, not sparing to inflict substantial knocks with 
 his pea-prick, as he called it. This succeeded so well 
 that he would next have his chair carried to the door, 
 and survey the state of things without. 
 
 "Ay, he knew they were going on prettily. There 
 was fine management, he was sure, when he was thus 
 laid up. He should be ruined, that was certain. O, if 
 he could but see the ploughing and the crops, to see 
 how they were going on would make the heart of a 
 stone ache, he expected." 
 
 His son was a steady young fellow, and, it must 
 be known, was all the while farming, and carrying on 
 the business much better than he himself had ever 
 done. 
 
 " But he would be with them one of these days, and 
 for the present he would see his stock at all events." 
 
 He accordingly ordered the whole of his stock, his 
 horses, his cows, his bullocks, his sheep, his calves, his 
 pigs, and poultry, to be all, every head of them, driven 
 past as he sate at the door. It was like another naming 
 of the beasts by Adam, or another going up into the 
 Ark. There he sate, swaying Ins long stick, now talking 
 to this horse, and now to that cow. To the old bull he 
 addressed a long speech; and every now and then he 
 broke off to rate the farm-servants for their neglect of 
 things. " What a bag of bones was this heifer ! What 
 a skeleton was that horse ! Why, they must have been 
 fairly starved on purpose ; nay, they must have been in 
 the pinfold all the time he had been laid up. But he 
 would teach the lazy rogues a different lesson as soon 
 as he could get about."
 
 204 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 And the next thing was to get about in his cart with 
 his bed laid in it. In this he rode over his farm ; and 
 it would have made a fine scene for Fielding or Gold- 
 smith, to have seen all his proceedings, and heard all 
 his exclamations and remarks, as he surveyed field after 
 field. 
 
 " What ploughing ! what sowing ! Why, they must 
 have had a crooked plough, and a set of bandy-legged 
 horses, to plough such ploughing. There was no more 
 straightness in their furrows than in a dog's hind leg. 
 And then where had the man flung the seed to ? Here 
 was a bit come up, and there never a bit. It was his 
 belief that they must go to Jericho to find half of his 
 corn that had been flung away. What ! had they picked 
 the windiest day of all the year to scatter his corn on 
 the air in ? And then the drains were all stopped ; the 
 land was drowning, was starving to death ; and where 
 were the hedges all gone to ? Hedges he left, but now 
 he only saw gaps ! " 
 
 So he went round the farm, and for many a day did 
 it furnish him with a theme of scolding in the house. 
 
 Such was Johnny Darbyshire ; and thus he lived for 
 many years. We sketch no imaginary character, we 
 relate no invented story. Perhaps a more perfect speci- 
 men of the shrewd and clever man converted into the 
 local and domestic tyrant, by having too much of his 
 own humor, never was beheld ; but the genus to which 
 Johnny Darbyshire belonged is far from extinct. In the 
 nooks of England there are not a few of them yet to be 
 found in all their froward glory ; and in the most busy 
 cities, though the great prominences of *b.eir eccentrici-
 
 JOHNNY DARBYSHIRE. 
 
 205 
 
 ties are rubbed off by daily concussion with men as hard- 
 headed as themselves, we see glimpses beneath the 
 polished surface of what they would be in ruder and 
 custom-freer scenes. The Johnny Darbyshires may 
 be said to be instances of English independence run to 
 seed.
 
 THE GRIDIRON. 
 
 BY SAMUEL LOVER. 
 
 CERTAIN old gentleman in the west of Ireland, 
 whose love of the ridiculous quite equalled his 
 taste for claret and fox-hunting, was wont, upon 
 festive occasions, when opportunity offered, to amuse his 
 friends by drawing out one of his servants, exceedingly 
 fond of what he termed his " thravels," and in whom, a 
 good deal of whim, some queer stories, and perhaps, more 
 than all, long and faithful services, had established a 
 right of loquacity. He was one of those few trusty and 
 privileged domestics, who, if his master unheedingly 
 uttered a rash thing in a fit of passion, would venture 
 to set him right. If the squire said, " I '11 turn that 
 rascal off," my friend Pat would say, " Troth you won't, 
 sir " ; and Pat was always right, for if any altercation 
 arose upon the " subject-matter in hand," he was sure to 
 throw in some good reason, either from former services, 
 general good conduct, or the delinquent's " wife and 
 children," that always turned the scale. 
 
 But I am digressing: on such merry meetings as I 
 have alluded to, the master, after making certain " ap-
 
 THE GRIDIRON. 207 
 
 proaches," as a military man would say, as the prepara- 
 tory steps in laying siege to some extravaganza of his 
 servant, might, perchance, assail Pat thus : " By the by, 
 Sir John (addressing a distinguished guest), Pat has a 
 very curious story, which something you told me to-day 
 reminds me of. You remember, Pat (turning to the 
 man, evidently pleased at the notice thus paid to him- 
 self), you remember that queer adventure you had in 
 France ? " 
 
 " Troth I do, sir," grins forth Pat. 
 
 " What ! " exclaims Sir John, in feigned surprise, 
 " was Pat ever in France ? " 
 
 "Indeed he was," cries mine host; and Pat adds, 
 "Ay, and farther, plaze your honor." 
 
 " I assure you, Sir John," continues my host, " Pat 
 told me a story once that surprised me very much, re- 
 specting the ignorance of the French." 
 
 "Indeed!" rejoined the baronet; "really, I always 
 supposed the French to be a most accomplished people." 
 
 " Troth, then, they 're not, sir," interrupts Pat. 
 
 " O, by no means," adds mine host, shaking his head 
 emphatically. 
 
 " I believe, Pat, 't was when you were crossing the 
 Atlantic ? " says the master, turning to Pat with a se- 
 ductive air, and leading into the " full and true account " 
 (for Pat had thought fit to visit North Amerikay, for 
 "a rakon he had," in the autumn of the year ninety- 
 eight). 
 
 " Yes, sir," says Pat, " the broad Atlantic," a favor- 
 ite phrase of his, which he gave with a brogue as broad, 
 almost, as the Atlantic itself.
 
 208 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 "It was the time I was lost in crassin' the broad 
 Atlantic, a comin' home," began Pat, decoyed into the 
 recital ; " whin the winds began to blow, and the sae to 
 rowl, that you 'd think the Colleen Dhas (that was her 
 name), would not have a mast left but what would rowl 
 out of her. 
 
 " Well, sure enough, the masts went by the board, at 
 last, and the pumps were choked (divil choke them for 
 that same), and av coorse the water gained an us ; and 
 troth, to be filled with water is neither good for man or 
 baste ; and she was sinkin' fast, settlin' down, as the 
 sailors call it ; and faith I never was good at settlin' down 
 in my life, and I liked it then less nor ever ; accordingly 
 we prepared for the worst and put out the boat and 
 got a sack o' bishkits and a cask o' pork, and a kag 
 o* wather, and a thrifle o' rum aboord, and any other 
 little matthers we could think iv in the mortial hurry 
 we wor in, and faith there was no time to be lost, 
 for, my darlint, the Colleen Dhas went down like a lump 
 o' lead, afore we wor many sthrokes o' the oar away from 
 her. 
 
 "Well, we dhrifted away all that night, and next 
 mornin' we put up a blanket an the end av a pole as well 
 as we could, and then we sailed iligant ; for we dar n't 
 show a stitch o' canvas the night before, bekase it was 
 blowin' like bloody murther, savin* your presence, and 
 sure it 's the wondher of the world we wor n't swally'd 
 alive by the ragin' sae. 
 
 " Well, away we wint, for more nor a week, and noth- 
 in' before our two good-lookin' eyes but the canophy iv 
 heaven, and the wide ocean the broad Atlantic not
 
 THE GRIDIRON. 209 
 
 a thing was to be seen but the sae and the sky; and 
 though the sae and the sky is mighty purty things in 
 themselves, throth they 're no great things when you 've 
 nothin' else to look at for a week together, and the 
 barest rock in the world, so it was land, would be more 
 welkim. And then, soon enough, throth, our provisions 
 began to run low, the bishkits, and the wather, and the 
 rum throth that was gone first of all God help uz 
 and oh ! it was thin that starvation began to stare us in 
 the face, ' 0, murther, murther, Captain darlint,' says 
 I, ' I wish we could land anywhere,' says I. 
 
 " ' More power to your elbow, Paddy, my boy,' says 
 he, ' for sitch a good wish, and throth it 's myself wishes 
 the same.' 
 
 " ' Och,' says I, ' that it may plaze you, sweet queen 
 iv heaven, supposing it was only a dissolute island,' says 
 I, ' inhabited wid Turks, sure they would n't be such 
 bad Christians as to refuse us a bit and a sup.' 
 
 "'Whisht, whisht, Paddy,' says the captain, 'don't 
 be talking bad of any one,' says he ; ' you don't know 
 how soon you may want a good word put in for yourself, 
 if you should be called to quarthers in th' other world 
 all of a suddint,' says he. 
 
 " ' Thrue for you, Captain darlint,' says I I called 
 him darlint, and made free with him, you see, bekase 
 disthress makes us all equal, ' thrue for you, Captain 
 jewel, God betune uz and harm, I owe no man any 
 spite, and throth that was only thruth. Well, the last 
 bishkit was sarved out, and by gor the wather itself 'was 
 all gone at last, and we passed the night mighty cowld ; 
 well, at the brake o' day the sun riz most beautifully out 
 
 w
 
 210 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 o' the waves, that was as bright as silver and as clear as 
 chrystal. But it was only the more cruel upon us, for 
 we wor beginnin' to feel terrible hungry; when all at 
 wanst I thought I spied the laud, by gor, I thought I 
 felt my heart up in my throat in a minit, and ' Thunder 
 an' turf, Captain,' says I, ' look to leeward,' says I. 
 
 "'What for? 'says he. 
 
 " ' I think I see the land,' says I. So he ups with his 
 bring-' em-near (that 's what the sailors call a spy -glass, 
 sir), and looks out, and, sure enough, it was. 
 
 " ' Hurra ! ' says he, ' we 're all right now ; pull 
 away, my boys,' says he. 
 
 " ' Take care you 're not mistaken,' says I ; ' maybe 
 it 's only a fog-bank, Captain darlint,' says I. 
 
 " ' O no,' says he, ' it 's the land in airnest.' 
 
 " ' O, then, whereabouts in the wide world are we, Cap- 
 tain ? ' says I ; ' maybe it id be in Roosia, or Proosia, or 
 the Garmant Oceant,' says I. 
 
 " ' Tut, you fool,' says he, for he had that consaited 
 way wid him thinkin' himself cleverer nor any one 
 else ' tut, you fool,' says he, ' that 's France,' says he. 
 
 " ' Tare an ouns,' says I, ' do you tell me so P and 
 how do you know it 's France it is, Captain dear,' says I. 
 
 " ' Bekase this is the Bay o' Bishky we 're in now,' 
 says he. 
 
 "'Throth, I was thinkin' so myself,' says I, 'by the 
 rowl it has ; for I often heerd av it in regard of that 
 same ; and throth the likes av it I never seen before nor 
 since, and, with the help of God, never will.' 
 
 " Well, with that, my heart began to grow light ; and 
 when I seen my life was safe, I began to grow twice
 
 THE GEIDIRON. 211 
 
 hungrier nor ever so, says I, ' Captain jewel, I wish 
 we had a gridiron.' 
 
 " ' Why, then/ says he, ' thunder and turf,' says he, 
 ' what puts a gridiron into your head ? ' 
 
 " ' Bekase I 'm starvin' with the hunger,' says I. 
 
 " ' And sure, bad luck to you,' says he, ' you could n't 
 eat a gridiron,' says he, ' barrin' you were a pelican o' 
 the wildherness' says he. 
 
 "'Ate a gridiron,' says I, c och, in throth, I'm not 
 such a gommoch all out as that, anyhow. But sure, if 
 we had a gridiron, we could dress a beefstake,' says I. 
 
 " ' Arrah ! but where 's the beefstake ? ' says he. 
 
 " ' Sure, could n't we cut a slice aff the pork/ says I. 
 
 " ' Be gor, I never thought o' that/ says the captain. 
 ' You 're a clever fellow, Paddy/ says he, laughin'. 
 
 " ' O, there 's many a thrue word said in joke/ says I. 
 
 " ' Thrue for you, Paddy/ says he. 
 
 "'Well, then/ says I, 'if you put me ashore there 
 beyant ' (for we were nearin' the land all the time), ' and 
 sure I can ax them for to lind me the loan of a 
 gridiron/ says I. 
 
 " ' O, by gor, the butther 's comin' out o' the stirabout 
 in airnest now/ says he, ' you gommoch/ says he, ' sure 
 I told you before that 's France, and sure they 're all 
 furriners there/ says the captain. 
 
 " ' Well/ says I, ' and how do you know but I 'm as 
 good a furriner myself as any o' thim ? ' 
 
 '"What do you mane?' says he. 
 
 " ' I mane/ says I, ' what I towld you, that I J m as 
 good a furriner myself as any o' thim.' 
 
 '"Make me sinsible/ says he.
 
 212 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 '"By dad, maybe that's more nor me, or greater nor 
 me, could do,' says I, and we all began to laugh at 
 him, for I thought I would pay him off for his bit o' 
 consait about the Garmant Oceant. 
 
 " ' Lave aff your humbugging' says he, ' I bid you, 
 and tell me what it is you mane, at all at all.' 
 
 " ' Parly voo frongsay,' says I. 
 
 " ' 0, your humble sarvant,' says he ; ' why, by gor, 
 you're a scholar, Paddy.' 
 
 " ' Throth, you may say that,' says I. 
 
 " ' Why, you 're a clever fellow, Paddy,' says the cap- 
 tain, jeerin' like. 
 
 " ' You 're not the first that said that,' says I, ' whether 
 you joke or no.' 
 
 " ' O, but I 'm in airnest,' says the captain ; ' and do 
 you tell me, Paddy,' says he, ' that you spake Frinch ? ' 
 
 "'Parly voofrongsay,' says I. 
 
 " ' By gor, that bangs Banagher, and all the world 
 knows Banagher bangs the divil, I never met the likes 
 o' you, Paddy,' says he, ' pull away, boys, and put 
 Paddy ashore, and maybe we won't get a good bellyful 
 before long.' 
 
 " So, with that, it wos no sooner said nor done, they 
 pulled away, and got close into shore in less than no 
 time, and run the boat up in a little creek, and a beau- 
 tiful creek it was, with a lovely white sthrand, an ille- 
 gaut place for ladies to bathe in the summer ; and out 
 I got, and it 's stiff enough in the limbs I was, afther 
 bein' cramped up in the boat, and perished with the 
 cowld and hunger, but I conthrived to scramble on, one 
 way or t' other, tow'rds a little bit iv a wood that was
 
 THE GRIDIRON. 213 
 
 close to the shore, and the smoke curlin' out iv it, quite 
 timptin' like. 
 
 "'By the powdhers o' war, I'm all right,' says I, 
 ' there 's a house there,' and sure enough there was, 
 and a parcel of men, women, and childher, ating their 
 dinner round a table, quite convanient. And so I wint 
 up to the door, and I thought I 'd be very civil to them, 
 as I heerd the French was always mighty p'lite intirely, 
 
 and I thought I'd show them I knew what good 
 manners was. 
 
 " So I took aff my hat, and, making a low bow, says 
 I, ' God save all here,' says I. 
 
 " Well, to be sure, they all stapt eating at wanst, and 
 began to stare at me, and faith they almost looked 
 me out of countenance, and I thought to myself, it 
 was not good manners at all, more betoken from furri- 
 ners which they call so mighty p'lite ; but I never 
 minded that, in regard o' wantin' the gridiron ; and so 
 says I, ' I beg your pardon,' says I, ' for the liberty I 
 take, but it 's only bein' in disthress in regard of eating,' 
 says I, ' that I made bowld to throuble yez, and if you 
 could lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'I'd be 
 entirely obleeged to ye.' 
 
 " By gor, they all stared at me twice worse nor before, 
 
 and with that, says I (knowing what was in their 
 minds), 'Indeed it's thrue for you,' says I, 'I'mtat- 
 thered to pieces, and God knows I look quare enough, 
 
 but it 's by raison of the storm,' says I, ' which dhruv 
 us ashore here below, and we 're all starvin',' says I. 
 
 " So then they began to look at each other again ; and 
 myself, seeing at once dirty thoughts was in their heads,
 
 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 and that they tuk me for a poor beggar coming to crave 
 charity, with that, says I, ' O, not at all,' says I, ' by 
 no manes, we have plenty of mate ourselves there 
 below, and we '11 dhress it,' says I, ' if you would be 
 plased to lind us the loan of a gridiron,' says I, makin' a 
 low bow. 
 
 " Well, sir, with that, throth, they stared at me twice 
 worse nor ever, and faith I began to think that maybe 
 the captain was wrong, and that it was not France at all 
 at all ; and so says I, ' I beg pardon, sir,' says I, to a 
 fine ould man, with a head of hair as white as silver, 
 ' maybe I 'm under a mistake,' says I, ' but I thought I 
 was in France, sir : are n't you furriners ? ' says I, 
 ' Parly voo frongmy ? ' 
 
 " ' We, munseer,' says he. 
 
 " ' Then would you lind me the loan of a gridiron,' 
 says I, 'if you plase?' 
 
 " O, it was thin that they started at me as if I had 
 seven heads ; and, faith, myself began to feel flushed like 
 and onaisy, and so, says I, makin' a bow and scrape 
 agin, ' I know it 's a liberty I take, sir,' says I, ' but it 's 
 only in the regard of bein' cast away ; and if you plase, 
 sir,' says I, 'parly voofrongsay ? ' 
 
 " ' We, munseer,' says he, mighty sharp. 
 
 " ' Then would you lend me the loan of a gridiron ! * 
 says I, ' and you '11 obleege me.' 
 
 " Well, sir, the ould chap began to munseer me ; but 
 the devil a bit of a gridiron he 'd gi' me ; and so I began 
 to think they wor all neygars, for all their fine manners ; 
 and throth my blood begun to rise, and says I, ' By my 
 sowl, if it was you was in distriss,' says I, ' and if it
 
 THE GRIDIRON. 215 
 
 was to ould Ireland you kern, it 's not only the gridiron 
 they 'd give you, if you axed it, but something to put an 
 it, too, and the drop o' dhrink into the bargain, and cead 
 milefailte.' 
 
 "Well, the word cead mile failte seemed to sthreck 
 his heart, and the ould chap cocked his ear, and so I 
 thought I 'd give him another offer, and make him sensi- 
 ble at last : and so says I, wanst more, quite slow, that 
 he might understand, ' Parly voo frongsay, mun- 
 seer.' 
 
 " ' We, munseer,' says he. 
 
 " ' Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, ' and 
 bad scram to you.' 
 
 " Well, bad win to the bit of it he 'd gi 5 me, and the 
 ould chap begins bowin' and scrapin', and said some- 
 thing or other about a long tongs.* 
 
 " ' Phoo ! the divil swape yourself and your tongs,' 
 says I, ' I don't want a tongs at all at all ; but can't you 
 listen to raison,' says I, ' Parly voofrongsay ? ' 
 
 " ' We, munseer.' 
 
 " ' Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, and 
 howld your prate.' 
 
 " Well, what would you think, but he shook his old 
 noddle as much as to say he would n't ; and so, says I, 
 ' Bad cess to the likes o' that I ever seen, throth if 
 you wor in my counthry it 's not that away they 'd use 
 you. The curse o' the crows an you, you owld sinner,' 
 says I, ' the divil a longer I '11 darken your door.' 
 
 "So he seen I was vexed, and I thought, as I was 
 
 * Some mystification of Paddy's touching the French 
 n'entends.
 
 216 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 turnin' away, I seen him begin to relint, and that his 
 conscience throubled him ; and says I, turnin' back, 
 ' Well, I '11 give one chance more, you ould thief, 
 are you a Chrishthan at all ? are you a furriner ! ' says 
 I, ' that all the world calls so p'lite ? Bad luck to you, 
 do you understand your own language? Parly voo 
 frongsay ? " says I. 
 
 " ' We, munseer,' says he. 
 
 " ' Then, thunder an' turf,' says I, ' will you lind me 
 the loan of a gridiron ? ' 
 
 " Well, sir, the devil resave the bit of it he 'd gi' me, 
 and so, with that, the ' curse o' the hungry an you, you 
 ould negarly villain,' says I ; 'the back o' my hand and 
 the sowl o' my foot to you, that you may want a grid- 
 iron yourself yit,' says I; and with that I left them 
 there, sir, and kem away, and, in throth, it's often 
 sense that I thought that it was remarkable."
 
 THE BOX TUNNEL. 
 
 BY CHARLES READE. 
 
 SE 10.15 train glided from Paddington, May 7, 
 1847. In the left compartment of a certain 
 first-class carriage were four passengers; of 
 these, two were worth description. The lady had a 
 smooth, white, delicate brow, strongly marked eyebrows, 
 long kshes, eyes that seemed to change color, and a 
 good-sized delicious mouth, with teeth as white as milk. 
 A man could not see her nose for her eyes and mouth ; 
 her own sex could and would have told us some non- 
 sense about it. She wore an unpretending grayish dress 
 buttoned to the throat with lozenge-shaped buttons, and 
 a Scottish shawl that agreeably evaded color. She was 
 like a duck, so tight her plain feathers fitted her, and 
 there she sat, smooth, snug, and delicious, with a book 
 in her hand, and a soupfon of her wrist just visible as 
 she held it. Her opposite neighbor was what I call a 
 good style of man, the more to his credit, since he 
 belonged to a corporation that frequently turns out the 
 worst imaginable style of young men. He was a cavalry 
 officer, aged twenty-five. He had a mustache, but not 
 
 VOL, IX. 10
 
 218 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 a very repulsive one ; not one of those subnasal pigtails 
 on which soup is suspended like dew on a shrub ; it was 
 short, thick, and black as a coal. His teeth had not yet 
 been turned by tobacco smoke to the color of juice, his 
 clothes did not stick to nor hang to him; he had an 
 engaging smile, and, what I liked the dog for, his vanity, 
 which was inordinate, was in its proper place, his heart, 
 not in his face, jostling mine and other people's who 
 have none, in a word, he was what one oftener hears 
 of than meets, a young gentleman. He was conversing 
 in an animated whisper with a companion, a fellow- 
 officer; they were talking about what it is far better 
 not to women. Our friend clearly did not wish to be 
 overheard ; for he cast ever and anon a furtive glance at 
 his fair vis-a-vis and lowered his voice. She seemed 
 completely absorbed in her book, and that reassured 
 him. At last the two soldiers came down to a whisper 
 (the truth must be told), the one who got down at 
 Slough, and was lost to posterity, bet ten pounds to 
 three, that he who was going down with us to Bath and 
 immortality would not kiss either of the ladies opposite 
 upon the road. " Done, done ! " Now I am sorry a man 
 I have hitherto praised should have lent himself, even 
 in a whisper, to such a speculation; "but nobody is 
 wise at all hours," not even when the clock is strik- 
 ing five and twenty; and you are to consider his pro- 
 fession, his good looks, and the temptation ten to 
 three. 
 
 After Slough the party was reduced to three ; at Twyl- 
 ford one lady dropped her handkerchief; Captain Dolig- 
 nan fell on it like a lamb; two or three words were
 
 THE BOX TUNNEL. 219 
 
 interchanged on this occasion. At Reading the Marl- 
 borough of our tale made one of the safe investments 
 of that day, he bought a Times and Punch; the latter 
 full of steel-pen thrusts and woodcuts. Valor and 
 beauty deigned to laugh at some inflamed humbug or 
 other punctured by Punch. Now laughing together 
 thaws our human ice ; long before Swindon it was a 
 talking match at Swindon who so devoted as Captain 
 Dolignan ? he handed them out he souped them he 
 tough-chickened them he brandied and cochinealed 
 one, and he brandied and burnt-sugared the other; on 
 their return to the carriage, one lady passed into the 
 inner compartment to inspect a certain gentleman's seat 
 on that side of the line. 
 
 Reader, had it been you or I, the beauty would have 
 been the deserter, the average one would have stayed 
 with us till all was blue, ourselves included ; not more 
 surely does our slice of bread and butter, when it es- 
 capes from our hand, revolve it ever so often, alight 
 face downward on the carpet. But this was a bit of 
 a fop, Adonis, dragoon, so Venus remained in tete-a- 
 tete with him. You have seen a dog meet an unknown 
 female of his species ; how handsome, how empresse, 
 how expressive he becomes ; such was Dolignan after 
 Swindon, and to do the dog justice, he got handsome 
 and handsomer ; and you have seen a cat conscious of 
 approaching cream, such was Miss Hay thorn ; she 
 became demurer and demurer ; presently our captain 
 looked out of the window and laughed; this elicited 
 an inquiring look from Miss Haythorn. 
 
 " We are only a mile from the Box Tunnel."
 
 220 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 " Do you always laugh a mile from the Box Tunnel P " 
 said the lady. 
 
 " Invariably." 
 
 " What for ? " 
 
 " Why, hem ! it is a gentleman's joke." 
 
 Captain Dolignan then recounted to Miss Haythorn 
 the following : 
 
 " A lady and her husband sat together going through 
 the Box Tunnel, there was one gentleman opposite ; 
 it was pitch dark: after the tunnel the lady said, 
 'George, how absurd of you to salute me going 
 through the tunnel.' ' I did no such thing.' ' You 
 did n't ? ' ' No ! why ? ' ' Because somehow I thought 
 you did ! '" 
 
 Here Captain Dolignan laughed and endeavored to 
 lead his companion to laugh, but it was not to be done. 
 The train entered the tunnel. 
 
 Miss Haythorn. Ah ! 
 
 Dolignan. What is the matter ? 
 
 Miss Haythorn. I am frightened. 
 
 Dolignan (moving to her side). Pray do not be 
 alarmed ; I am near you. 
 
 Miss Haythorn. You are near me, very near me, 
 indeed, Captain Dolignan. 
 
 Dolignan. You know my name ? 
 
 Miss Haythorn. I heard you mention it. I wish we 
 were out of this dark place. 
 
 Dolignan. I could be content to spend hours here, re- 
 assuring you, my dear lady. 
 
 Miss Haythorn. Nonsense ! 
 
 Dolignan. Pweep ! (Grave reader, do not put your
 
 THE BOX TUNNEL. 221 
 
 lips to the next pretty creature you meet, or you will 
 understand what this means.) 
 
 Miss Haythorn. Ee ! Ee ! 
 
 Friend. What is the matter ? 
 
 Miss Haythorn. Open the door ! Open the door ! 
 
 There was a sound of hurried whispers, the door was 
 shut and the bund pulled down with hostile sharp- 
 ness. 
 
 If any critic falls on me for putting inarticulate sounds 
 in a dialogue as above, I answer with all the insolence I 
 can command at present. "Hit boys as big as your- 
 self" ; bigger, perhaps, such as Sophocles, Euripides, and 
 Aristophanes ; they began it, and I learned it of them, 
 sore against my will. 
 
 Miss Haythorn's scream lost most of its effect because 
 the engine whistled forty thousand murders at the same 
 moment; and fictitious grief makes itself heard when 
 real cannot. 
 
 Between the tunnel and Bath our young friend had 
 time to ask himself whether his conduct had been marked 
 by that delicate reserve which is supposed to distin- 
 guish the perfect gentleman. 
 
 With a long face, real or feigned, he held open the 
 door; his late friends attempted to escape on the other 
 side, impossible ! they must pass him. She whom he 
 had insulted (Latin for kissed) deposited somewhere at 
 his feet a look of gentle, blushing reproach ; the other, 
 whom he had not insulted, darted red-hot daggers at him 
 from her eyes ; and so they parted. 
 
 It was, perhaps, fortunate for Dolignan that he had 
 the grace to be a friend to Major Hoskyns of his regi-
 
 222 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 ment, a veteran laughed at by the youngsters, for the 
 Major was too apt to look coldly upon billiard-balls and 
 cigars ; he had seen cannon-balls and linstocks. He had 
 also, to tell the truth, swallowed a good bit of the mess- 
 room poker, which made it as impossible for Major Hos- 
 kyns to descend to an ungentlemanlike word or action 
 as to brush his own trousers below the knee. 
 
 Captain Dolignan told this gentleman his story in 
 gleeful accents ; but Major Hoskyns heard him coldly, 
 and as coldly answered that he had known a man to lose 
 his life for the same thing. 
 
 " That is nothing," continued the Major, " but unfor- 
 tunately he deserved to lose it." 
 
 At this, blood mounted to the younger man's temples ; 
 and his senior added, " I mean to say he was thirty-five ; 
 you, I presume, are twenty-one ! " 
 
 " Twenty-five." 
 
 " That is much the same thing ; will you be advised 
 by me ? " 
 
 " If you will advise me." 
 
 "Speak to no one of this, and send White the 3, 
 that he may think you have lost the bet." 
 
 " That is hard, when I won it." 
 
 " Do it, for all that, sir." 
 
 Let the disbelievers in human perfectibility know that 
 this dragoon capable of a blush did this virtuous action, 
 albeit with violent reluctance; and this was his first 
 damper. A week after these events he was at a ball. 
 He was in that state of factitious discontent which 
 belongs to us amiable English. He was looking in vain 
 for a lady, equal in personal attraction to the idea he had
 
 THE BOX TUNNEL. 223 
 
 formed of George Dolignan as a man, when suddenly 
 there glided past him a most delightful vision ! a lady 
 whose beauty and symmetry took him by the eyes, 
 another look : " It can't be ! Yes, it is ! " Miss Hay- 
 thorn ! (not that he knew her name !) but what an apoth- 
 eosis ! 
 
 The duck had become a peahen radiant, dazzling, 
 she looked twice as beautiful and almost twice as large 
 as before. He lost sight of her. He found her again. 
 She was so lovely she made him ill and he, alone, 
 must not dance with her, speak to her. If he had been 
 content to begin her acquaintance the usual way, it 
 might have ended in kissing: it must end in nothing. 
 As she danced, sparks of beauty fell from her on all 
 around, but him she did not see him ; it was clear she 
 never would see him one gentleman was particularly 
 assiduous ; she smiled on his assiduity ; he was ugly, 
 but she smiled on him. Dolignan was surprised at his 
 success, his ill taste, his ugliness, his impertinence. 
 Dolignan at last found himself injured ; " who was this 
 man ? and what right had he to go on so ? He never 
 kissed her, I suppose," said Dolle. Dolignan could 
 not prove it, but he felt that somehow the rights of 
 property were invaded. He went home and dreamed 
 of Miss Haythorn, and hated all the ugly successful. 
 He spent a fortnight trying to find out who his beauty 
 was, he never could encounter her again. At last he 
 heard of her in this way : A lawyer's clerk paid him a 
 little visit and commenced a little action against him in 
 in the name of Miss Haythorn, for insulting her in a 
 railway train.
 
 224 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 The young gentleman was shocked; endeavored to 
 soften the lawyer's clerk; that machine did not thoroughly 
 comprehend the meaning of the term. The lady's name, 
 however, was at last revealed by this untoward incident ; 
 from her name to her address was but a short step ; and 
 the same day our crestfallen hero lay in wait at her 
 door, and many a succeeding day, without effect. But 
 one fine afternoon she issued forth quite naturally, as if 
 she did it every day, and walked briskly on the parade. 
 Dolignan did the same, met and passed her many times 
 on the parade, and searched for pity in her eyes, but 
 found neither look nor recognition, nor any other senti- 
 ment; for all this she walked and walked, till all the 
 other promenaders were tired and gone, then her cul- 
 prit summoned resolution, and, taking off his hat, with a 
 voice for the first time tremulous, besought permission 
 to address her. She stopped, blushed, and neither ac- 
 knowledged nor disowned his acquaintance. He blushed, 
 stammered out how ashamed he was, how he deserved 
 to be punished, how he was punished, how little she 
 knew how unhappy he was, and concluded by begging 
 her not to let all the world know the disgrace of a 
 man who was already mortified enough by the loss of her 
 acquaintance. She asked an explanation ; he told her of 
 the action that had been commenced in her name ; she 
 gently shrugged her shoulders and said, "How stupid 
 they are ! " Emboldened by this, he begged to know 
 whether or not a life of distant unpretending devotion 
 would, after a lapse of years, erase the memory of his 
 madness his crime ! 
 
 " She did not know ! "
 
 THE BOX TUNNEL. 225 
 
 "She must now bid him adieu, as she had some 
 preparations to make for a ball in the Crescent, where 
 everybody was to be." They parted, and Dolignan de- 
 termined to be at the ball, where everybody was to be. 
 He was there, and after some time he obtained an in- 
 troduction to Miss Haythorn, and he danced with her. 
 Her manner was gracious. With the wonderful tact 
 of her sex, she seemed to have commenced the ac- 
 quaintance that evening. That night, for the first time, 
 Dolignan was in love. I will spare the reader all a 
 lover's arts, by which he succeeded in dining where she 
 dined, in dancing where she danced, in overtaking her 
 by accident when she rode. His devotion followed her 
 to church, where the dragoon was rewarded by learning 
 there is a world where they neither polk nor smoke, 
 the two capital abominations of this one. 
 
 He made an acquaintance with her uncle, who liked 
 him, and he saw at last with joy that her eye loved to 
 dwell upon him, when she thought he did not observe 
 her. It was three months after the Box Tunnel that 
 Captain Dolignan called one day upon Captain Haythorn, 
 R. N., whom he had met twice in his life, and slightly 
 propitiated by violently listening to a cutting-out ex- 
 pedition ; he called, and in the usual way asked permis- 
 sion to pay his addresses to his daughter. The worthy 
 Captain straightway began doing quarter-deck, when 
 suddenly he was summoned from the apartment by a 
 mysterious message. On his return he announced with 
 a total change of voice, that " It was all right, and his 
 visitor might run alongside as soon as he chose." My 
 reader has divined the truth ; this nautical commander, 
 10* o
 
 226 LITTLE CLASSICS. 
 
 terrible to the foe, was in complete and happy subjuga- 
 tion to his daughter, our heroine. 
 
 As he was taking leave, Dolignan saw his divinity 
 glide into the drawing-room. He followed her, observed 
 a sweet consciousness deepen into confusion, she tried 
 to laugh, and cried instead, and then she smiled again ; 
 when he kissed her hand at the door it was " George " 
 and A Marian " instead of " Captain " this and " Miss " 
 the other. 
 
 A reasonable time after this (for my tale is merciful 
 and skips formalities and torturing delays), these two 
 were very happy; they were once more upon the rail- 
 road, going to enjoy their honeymoon all by themselves. 
 Marian Dolignan was dressed just as before, duck -like 
 and delicious ; all bright except her clothes ; but George 
 sat beside her this time instead of opposite ; and she 
 drank him in gently from her long eyelashes. 
 
 " Marian," said George, " married people should tell 
 each other all. Will you ever forgive me if I own to 
 you ; no " 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! " 
 
 " Well, then, you remember the Box Tunnel." (This 
 was the first allusion he had ventured to it.) " I am 
 ashamed to say I had 3 to 10 with White I would 
 kiss one of you two ladies," and George, pathetic exter- 
 nally, chuckled within. 
 
 " I know that, George ; I overheard you," was the 
 demure reply. 
 
 " Oh ! you overheard me ! impossible." 
 
 " And did you not hear me whisper to my companion ? 
 I made a bet with her."
 
 THE BOX TUNNEL. 227 
 
 " You made a bet ! how singular ! What was it ? " 
 
 " Only a pair of gloves, George." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; but what about it ? " 
 
 " That if you did you should be my husband, dearest." 
 
 " Oh ! but stay ; then you could not have been so 
 very angry with me, love. Why, dearest, then you 
 brought that action against me?" 
 
 Mrs. Dolignan looked down. 
 
 " I was afraid you were forgetting me ! George, you 
 will never forgive me ? " 
 
 " Sweet angel ! why, here is the Box Tunnel ! " 
 
 Now, reader, fie ! no ! no such thing ! you can't 
 expect to be indulged in this way every time we come 
 to a dark place. Besides, it is not the thing. Con- 
 sider, two sensible married people. No such phenome- 
 non, I assure you, took place. No scream in hopeless 
 rivalry of the engine this time !
 
 A 000 046 726 6