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diff --git a/56963-0.txt b/56963-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..51b8eab --- /dev/null +++ b/56963-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3141 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 56963 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + FUN O' THE FORGE + + STORIES + + BY + BRIAN + O'HIGGINS + + _All Rights Reserved_ + + DUBLIN + WHELAN AND SON + 17 UPPER ORMOND QUAY + + + + +_Cahill & Co., Ltd., Printers, Dublin._ + + + + +FOREWORD + + +In addition to many other blessings, God has given to us, Gaels of the +Irish land, the priceless gift of humour, the saving grace of laughter. +May we never lose them! They have been good friends to us in the days +of darkness; let it be one of our duties to nurture and strengthen them +in the brighter day that has already dawned in Eirinn. Throughout the +land, in forge and workshop, in field and by fireside, there is many a +Ned McGrane--witty, wise and laughter-loving--who has the power to pull +aside the gloomy curtains of melancholy and moodiness and to pour into +the hearts of all who will listen to him the sunshine of merriment and +mirth, while never saying a word that would offend the most sensitive +ear or leave a bad impression on the most susceptible mind. In this, +as in a thousand other ways, we differ from the enemy that is still +within our gates. His best humour is coarse or smutty, his heartiest +laughter is jarring and hurtful, his outlook on life is very different +to that of the genial blacksmith of Balnagore. God speed the day when +the smutty wit of the Sasanach shall be heard no longer in our land, +when the laughter of the open-hearted, clean-minded Gael shall ring +from end to end of Eirinn, lighting every mind, lifting up every heart, +and softening for all who have suffered the memory of those sadder days +that they have known. + + BRIAN O HUIGINN. + +_Samhain, 1917._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + THE BLACKSMITH'S CHARM 9 + + HOW JIMMY SETTLED THE SOJER 24 + + THE CONFISCATED BACON 35 + + "BOW-WOW" 50 + + HOW JOHNNIE GOT HIS DEGREE 61 + + THE BEST OF A BARGAIN 71 + + WHEN DENIS TURNED TO THE TAY 78 + + A GLORIOUS VICTORY 85 + + ON ELECTIONS 94 + + NED'S TRIP TO DUBLIN 98 + + THE LAWYER FOR THE DEFENCE 104 + + THE FIRST PLUM PUDDING 110 + + + + +FUN O' THE FORGE. + + + + +THE BLACKSMITH'S CHARM + + +I. + +The smithy in which Ned M'Grane carried on his trade was close to the +roadside, about a quarter of a mile from the head of the glen. There +was no house very close to it on any side, though old Peggy Hogan's +cottage was not so far away but that Ned could hear Peggy's shrill +"Chuck, chuck, chuck," every evening at sundown, as she called her hens +and chickens home to roost. The smithy was sheltered by the big beeches +which overhung the road from Rowan's demesne, and when the fire was in +full glow it was as fine a place for a seanchus among the "boys" as +you'd find in any corner of the broad land of Eireann; and well did the +boys know that, because there was scarcely a night during the whole +winter on which they didn't gather around the cheery fire in the forge, +and discuss in breezy fashion and with a good deal of wit, almost every +subject of interest under the sun, while they watched Ned M'Grane at +his work, and openly admired the strength of his shapely arms. + +Ned was as famous for his wit as for his proficiency in all the +mysteries of the trade, and he could tell stories, old and new, that +would draw laughter from the loneliest heart that ever beat. He +was a favourite with old and young, and there wasn't a boy in the +countryside who, sometime or other, didn't make a confidant of the +genial blacksmith, and ask the advice which he was always willing to +give. To help a man out of a scrape, to stand by a comrade in distress, +to make glad a company with clean and ready wit, to resent an evil +deed or to show whole-hearted appreciation of a good one, there wasn't +in all Ireland a man who could out-match Ned M'Grane, the laughing, +jovial, generous blacksmith of Balnagore. + +One night, just a week before Shrove (no matter whether 'twas last year +or the year before or ten years ago) the smithy was, for a wonder, +deserted by all its usual visitors, and the smith was alone with his +work and his thoughts, which latter found expression in the snatches of +song he sung in the intervals between placing the piece of iron upon +which he was working in the fire and the taking out of it again, to be +pounded on the anvil. He was just finishing a song, the last verse of +which ran like this: + + "No! no! across the thundering waves the answer rings full high! + No! no! re-echoes many a heart beneath the Irish sky + The land shall wake, her exiled sons across the sea shall sail + Once more to set a coronet on queenly Grainne Mhaol." + +and was giving the finishing touches to a new horse-shoe, when he heard +a voice at the door say, "God bless the work," and on looking up his +eyes met the open, honest, handsome face of his cousin and dearest +friend and comrade, Seumas Shanley of Drumberagh. + +"An' you, too, a mhic o," answered Ned M'Grane, with a welcoming smile. +"You're the very man I was thinkin' about a few minutes ago, an' I'm +glad you're by yourself. Any change in the plan of campaign? Is Old +Crusty as determined as ever?" + +"Worse than ever," said Seumas Shanley, as he picked up a piece of a +broken match-box from the floor, set it blazing at the forge fire, and +lighted his pipe with it. "Nannie says that he got into a tearin' rage +out an' out last night when she refused again to marry Jack the Jobber, +an' he won't let her leave his sight for a minute. All she could do was +to send me a note with old Kitty Malone to-day. Kitty was down in it, +washin', an' she says Larry has his mind made up that Nannie must marry +Flanagan before Shrove. I was over with Father Martin to-day." + +"An' what did he say?" asked Ned M'Grane. + +"He said 'twould be a cryin' shame to have a sweet little girl like +Nannie Boylan tied for life to a man like Jack Flanagan, who never +comes home sober from a fair, an' who has no thought for anythin' +only cattle, an' money, an' drink. Father Martin is dead against the +match-makin', you know, an' he said he'll marry us if we go to him, +runaway or no runaway, consent or no consent." + +"Faith, then, by my grandfather's whiskers, Seumas Shanley, if that's +the case, I'll see you married--yourself an' Nannie--before Shrove +yet, an' that's only this day week!" said the blacksmith, as he flung +the hammer he held in his hand into a corner, and put the bolt on the +forge door, so that no one might enter or interrupt their conversation. +"I have the plan in my head all day," he added, "an' if it doesn't work +out all right the fault won't be Ned M'Grane's." + +"What's the plan?" asked Seumas, in a tone the eagerness of which he +could not conceal, although he made an effort to suppress it. He knew +that no man in Ireland could devise a plan or carry it through, better +than Ned M'Grane, and the hope that had been ebbing out of his heart +as Shrove drew near and the danger of losing his cailin ban became +every day more apparent, that hope grew as bright as the glow of the +forge fire, and leapt into his kindly, dark eyes as he waited for the +blacksmith to speak. + +"Well, 'tis a simple plan enough, an' there's no great mystery about +it at all," said Ned, "an' if you an' Nannie do your share of the work +right I give you my word that it'll be the most complete night-cap +ever was put on Old Crusty or any match-makin' miser like him. You +know the way he goes nearly mad with that old front tooth of his when +it begins to pain him for all his miserly ways an' his trickeries, an' +you know as well, I suppose, the pishrogues the women do have about +every blacksmith havin' a charm for the cure of the toothache. Well, if +Nannie can set Old Crusty's tooth tearin' mad before Sunday--let her +give him somethin' real sweet to eat an' it's off--I'll guarantee to +take him out of the way for three hours, at any rate, an' any Christian +with the head set right on him could very easy be married to the girl +of his heart in three hours--couldn't he?" + +"He could, Ned--God bless you!" said Seumas, in a voice that was a wee +bit husky, as he grasped the blacksmith's hand in a firm grip. "I was +nearly in despair, an' so was Nannie, an' we couldn't think of a plan +at all. We'll not forget it to you, never fear." + +"O, it's not over yet," said Ned, as if to put a check on the other's +impulsiveness. "You'll have to see Nannie some way or other, an' tell +her all you intend to do, an' have her on her guard. She must give a +sort of a promise to marry Flanagan, an' then ask Old Crusty to leave +her free until after Lent; an' she must have some grievance or other +against you. Do you understand? An' there must be nothin' done to make +the old lad suspicious, an' you must have everything ready, so that +there'll be no fluster or delay. An' above all, the tooth must be set +ragin' mad. + +"Off you pop now, a mhic o, an' more power to you. It'll be as good as +a thousand pound to me to see Old Crusty's face when he finds out the +whole thing. Come over Friday night an' tell me how the game is goin'. +Good night, now, an' God speed you." + +"Good night, Ned. I'll not fail, please God, an' I'll not forget it to +you as long as I live." + +And Seumas Shanley went, the glow of a great hope lighting all the way +before him. + + +II. + +When Ned M'Grane lifted the latch of Larry Boylan's kitchen door +and walked into the spacious kitchen itself on the following Sunday +afternoon there was a look of concern on his usually jovial face, and +when Larry turned his gaze from the fire to greet the visitor, the look +of concern on Ned's face deepened very considerably and perceptibly, +and he seemed very much perturbed. Larry sat in a crouching attitude +quite close to the big fire of blazing turf-sods, a red handkerchief +covering his chin, his jaws, and his ears, and knotted on top of his +head. He held his hand over his mouth, and now and then he groaned +most miserably and lugubriously. An old woman--the same Kitty Malone +mentioned by Seumas Shanley--was working about the kitchen; no one else +was to be seen. + +The blacksmith was a pretty frequent and always a welcome visitor at +Larry Boylan's. He was Nannie Boylan's godfather, and old Larry as well +claimed relationship with the M'Grane family--usually when he wanted +some work done at the forge. He was, therefore, glad to see Ned on the +present occasion. + +"I'm sorry to see the enemy is at you again, Larry," said Ned, as he +seated himself on the stool placed before the fire for him by Kitty. "I +wondered when I didn't see you at Mass to-day, an' I didn't know what +was up until I met Kitty there, on the road, an' she said it was the +tooth. Is it bad? It must be a cold you got." + +"Oh, it's a terror, Ned," groaned Larry, as a twinge of pain passed +over his weazened face. "I never had it as bad before. I'm nearly +cracked with it, an' the head is like to fly off me. Nannie that +brought home a curran' cake from the market yesterday, an' sweet, white +stuff on the top of it, an' we ate it with the tay, an' about an hour +after the old tooth gave one jump, an' it's at me ever since. I never +slept a wink all night with it. Nannie herself got the toothache about +a couple of hours ago, an' she's mortial bad with it, too. She had to +go to bed a while ago." + +"The poor thing," said Ned M'Grane, sympathetically. "I'm sorry in +troth, for both of you, an' glad that I came down. I might as well not +be at home at all, because Seumas Shanley wanted me to go with him over +to Knockbride after Mass. He was goin' over to see some of his mother's +people that came home from America. I think they're goin' to have a +spree or a flare-up of some kind over there to-night. I was near goin' +only I knew I'd have to be up early in the mornin' to shoe the Major's +horses." + +"The same bucko is no loss by goin' to Knockbride or anywhere else," +said Larry, with a frown; and then in a whisper, and forgetting the +toothache for a moment, he said: "I'm thinkin' he's after some lassie +in that direction. When he seen I wouldn't let Nannie throw over a +well-to-do, comfortable man like Jack Flanagan for a scamp like him, +I suppose he took after some other decent man's daughter. He was +stravagin' about the market yesterday with some strange girl, an' +wouldn't even look at us. I think my lassie," jerking his thumb towards +the door of the little bedroom to which Nannie had retired, "had a wish +for him up to that, but she saw then it wasn't her, but the place, he +was after. And I'm glad she got sense, because it isn't every day she +could get married into a place like Jack Flanagan's--an' it's little +fortune he wants either. We made the match for after Lent yesterday." + +"Is that a fact?" said Ned. "Well, your mind ought to be easy now." + +"So it is, Ned; so it is. When it came to the finish, Nannie didn't go +against my wishes, an' all she asked was that I'd leave her free until +after Lent; an' sure there's no use in rushin' it--is there, Ned?" + +"Divil a use," said Ned. + +At this juncture the tooth began to ache again worse than ever, and +Larry squirmed in his seat with pain. + +"I was tellin' Mr. Boylan to-day," said old Kitty Malone to Ned, "that +every blacksmith has a charm for the toothache, an' I was wantin' him +to go up to you an' see, but he said maybe you haven't it at all. Have +you it, Mr. M'Grane?" + +"Well, I must be an amadán out an' out not to think of it before now," +said Ned. "To be sure I have it. Every blacksmith in the world has it, +but it's no use to him outside his own forge. Troth it's many a one +came to me with the toothache, an' any o' them that followed my advice +hadn't the pain very long." + +"Do you tell me so, Ned?" asked Larry, between his groans. + +"Aye, indeed," said Ned. "But some o' them is that foolish that they +must run away to one o' them lads that pulls teeth, an' get themselves +half murdered, an' then pay dear for it. I saw on the paper where a man +died after gettin' a tooth pulled, an' I saw where a great doctor said +that if you let the pain o' the toothache go on for five days one after +the other, or get the tooth pulled wrong, you're liable to drop dead +at any minute." + +"Lord bless an' save us!" said old Kitty Malone, in tones of awe and +fear. + +Larry looked startled. + +"An' do you have the charm always, Ned?" he asked, with evident anxiety +in his voice. + +"Of course I do," answered Ned. "It's in my possession from the day I +have my trade learned until the day I die, but I can't make use of it +anywhere only in my own forge, an' with no one next or nigh me but the +person I'm goin' to cure." + +"Does it hurt much, Ned?" + +"That's the beauty of it entirely, Larry--it doesn't hurt at all. You +might as well be asleep when the charm is working on you, for all the +bother or pain it gives you." + +"Couldn't you do it here, Ned?" + +"Not if I was to get all Ireland, an' England, an' Scotland put +together, an' the Isle of Man threw on top of them. I couldn't do it +anywhere only in my own forge above. + +"Do you know what you'll do, Larry? Just keep that handkerchief on your +head, an' put your overcoat on you an' come up to the forge with me, +an' I promise you that in a couple of hours' time you'll be back here, +safe an' sound, an' not as much pain or ache in that tooth as there is +in the hearthstone there." + +"Aye do, Mr. Boylan," chimed in Kitty. "It's a terrible thing to think +of what'd happen if it keeps at you for five days, an' sure it's +wearin' you down already." + +"An' is it no harm to work the charm on a Sunday, Ned?" asked Larry, +who was evidently giving way. + +"Not the least bit o' harm in the world," said Ned. "Sunday or Monday, +night, noon or mornin', it's all the same." + +"Troth, then," said Larry, as he rose, "I think I'll go. Get me that +coat, Kitty. If it sticks to Nannie until to-morrow she'll have to go, +too." + +"The bed is the best place for her at present," said Ned M'Grane, as he +passed out after Larry, "but don't let her stay too long in it, Kitty." + +And Kitty's nod, in answer to the wink which accompanied this remark, +was sufficient to prove that she fully understood. + + +III. + +When they reached the forge it was just nightfall, but Ned lighted a +lamp or lantern which hung on the wall, bolted the door, closed the +window shutters, and then proceeded to light the fire. Larry watched +him with the greatest interest, while he himself moaned and groaned and +stamped about with the fierce pain of the big, shaking tooth. + +It was one of the front teeth and very prominent. A tooth on each side +of it had long since departed, and so it stood out in bold relief, grim +and determined-looking. The pain was so constant and so annoying now +that Larry would have suffered any torture to get rid of it. + +"How do you work the charm, Ned?" he asked at length, when there was +no likelihood of the mystic rite being put into practice. + +"Oh that's a secret that can't be given away to any man or mortal," +said Ned, as he divested himself of his coat and proceeded, slowly and +carefully, to roll up his shirt sleeves. "'Twould be a big risk for me +to let anyone know that; I might be on the look-out for some terrible +punishment. In fact, I hardly know myself how it works. It takes place +by some power beyond my knowledge entirely, Larry. I'm only like the +means of settin' it in motion, an' then it does all the rest itself in +a strange an' mysterious manner. + +"Now, I want you, Larry, before I start at all, to give me your solemn +word that you'll wait, real patient, until the charm is ready to +work, an' that you'll make no complaint either before or after the +charm takes place. Some people get impatient an' make some complaint +or other, an' then, instead of the charm workin', the pain o' the +toothache gets worse than ever, an' sometimes they die that very night. +Do you promise, Larry?" + +"I promise, Ned, that no matter how severe or how long the workin' o' +the charm is I'll not make the least complaint, because I'd suffer +anythin' to ease the pain o' this infernal tooth. Sure it'll never +annoy me again, Ned?" + +"Never," said Ned M'Grane, decisively, as he took from a small box a +long, thin strand of flaxen thread, and pulled and jerked it in every +conceivable fashion to test its strength. Then he stretched it three +times along the anvil, and three times along the sledge hammer, and +three times along a bar of iron, uttering all the time in a weird, +solemn tone, strange, inarticulate sounds, which silenced Larry's +groans and made him feel awed and frightened. + +"Now, Larry," said the blacksmith, when this ceremony was over, "you'll +have to suffer a little pain while I get this magic band round the +achin' tooth. Open your mouth now." + +Larry did as he was directed, and in a minute the smith deftly wound +the flaxen thread round the tooth, and knotted it tightly. + +"Put your hands on your knees now, like a good man, and bend down +towards the anvil here," said Ned. "That's just right. Stay that way +now for a while, an' don't stir an' don't look up. You'll be all right +soon." + +Whilst speaking he was tying the two ends of the flaxen thread tightly +and securely to the horn of the anvil. When this was accomplished he +put the bar of iron into the fire, gathered the glowing embers around +it, and commenced to blow the bellows vigorously. + +It was a comical picture altogether. + +There was Larry, his hands resting on his knees, his head bent down +until his nose was within a foot of the horn of the anvil, a stream +of water running from his open mouth, his eyes fixed upon the floor, +while he tried to groan cheerfully, in fear lest he might be taken as +complaining. + +Ned now and then blew the bellows, pulled out the bar of iron, looked +at it, thrust it back again into the glowing fire, went about the forge +uttering the same inarticulate sounds that had so awed Larry at first, +and treading very softly, perhaps because he did not wish to drive away +the spirit of the charm. In one of his excursions he softly undid the +bolt, opened the door, peered out into the night, listened, and smiled. + +All this went on for a full hour at least, and then the blacksmith came +over and stood beside the anvil, sledge in hand, while he commenced to +blow the bellows more vigorously than ever. + +At last he broke the silence by saying that he hoped Larry was not in +very great pain, and assuring him that relief could not be very far off +now. + +Larry could only groan in reply, and then Ned went on to tell, with +evident pride, of all the wonderful cures he had effected, and all the +poor sufferers he had literally snatched from the jaws of death. And +all Larry could do was groan and moan as cheerfully as possible, while +he wondered if the time for his cure would ever come. + +It came when he least expected it. The smith was in the middle of a +wonderful story about a miraculous cure he had once been instrumental +in effecting, when suddenly he whipped the bar of iron from the fire, +placed it on the anvil, and brought down the sledge upon it with such +force and vigour, three times in rapid succession, that showers of +sparks--millions of them--flew in all directions through the forge! + +Larry was taken completely by surprise. He gave one yell of terror as +he suddenly jerked backwards, and the next moment he lay stretched at +full length on the floor, the eyes almost starting from his head with +fright, and a little stream of blood trickling over his chin from his +mouth. The tooth hung from the horn of the anvil, suspended by the +strand of flaxen thread. The charm had been successful. + +Ned M'Grane laughed long and heartily, as he looked at the prostrate +and terror-stricken Larry. + +"Gorra, it worked the grandest ever I saw," he said, with a mischievous +twinkle in his eyes; "'twas the neatest job I ever did, an' you're a +powerful brave man, Larry." + +Larry could hardly speak he was so frightened. + +"Is--is it out, Ned?" he said at last, scarcely knowing whether he +ought to be vexed or pleased. + +"Out!" cried Ned; "don't you see it, man? Didn't I tell you I'd give +you relief? Here, wash out your mouth with this sup o' soft water. An' +I don't think your appearance is improved very much by you lyin' there +on the floor. Now, is it?" + +Larry rose and rinsed his mouth, as he had been bidden. + +"Do you know what, Ned," he cried, "you're the finest doctor in +Ireland, an' that's the greatest charm I ever heard of in my life. I +dunno how you done it, but I must send up Nannie to you to-morrow." + +At that moment a young lad thrust his head in at the door. + +"All right--an hour ago," he cried, and disappeared as quickly as he +had come. + +"What did he say?" asked Larry, as he saw a look of the utmost pleasure +come across Ned M'Grane's face. + +"He said," answered Ned, as he folded his arms and leaned his broad +shoulder against the wall, "that you've got the best son-in-law in +Ireland, an' that Seumas Shanley has the purtiest an' the sweetest +little wife that ever stepped in shoe leather!" + +"What do you mean, man; what do you mean?" cried Larry in an angry and +excited tone, as he gripped the blacksmith by the arm. "Are you mad, +Ned M'Grane?" + +"No, Larry, my decent man; I'm not mad, an' I only mean what I say, an' +that is that the best part o' the charm that's after bein' worked is +that while you were gettin' the pain taken out o' your jaw here, your +daughter and Seumas Shanley were gettin' the pain taken out o' their +hearts by Father Martin above at the chapel--long life to them! + +"The boys an' girls o' Drumberagh are dancin' at their weddin' for +the last half-hour, an' every tongue in the country is talkin' o' the +Blacksmith's Charm." + + + + +HOW JIMMY SETTLED THE SOJER + + +It would be very unjust to say that Ned M'Grane was insufferably vain +on account of his storytelling abilities, or that he was a bore who +insisted, whenever he could find an audience, on relating some of his +wonderful and thrilling experiences, as a goodly number of those who +pose as storytellers are in the habit of doing. That wasn't the way +with Ned at all: he had acquired all his pleasant stories, or most of +them, while he was a boy, unspoiled by travel or by contact with the +"clever" world; and it never struck him that he occupied a unique or +exalted position in the Glen on account of this, because the gift had +come to him naturally, and had been cultivated at a time when there was +a seanchaidhe by every hearth, and life and vivacity in the country to +provide plenty of material for stories. And in reference to the second +matter--the supposition or suspicion in the minds of my readers that +Ned was a bore--if such a suspicion exists, there is no foundation +whatever for it. Ned M'Grane was not a bore by any means: I never knew +him to volunteer the telling of a story, and I think that if we were to +remain in the forge for hours each evening and not ask for a story we +should never have heard one. I firmly believe that if Ned were to think +for a moment that while we listened to his stories we were under the +impression, in our own minds, that he was "showin' off" all he knew--I +firmly believe that then and there he would have made a vow never again +to tell us a story, and I know he would have kept that vow, because Ned +M'Grane was a man of his word. Whenever an occasion arose that would +suggest a story (we never asked him direct for one) we cautiously felt +our way, and then, if we saw that we were on safe ground, we asked him +as delicately as we could, to give us the pleasure of listening to one +of his stories, and I have never known him to deny us that pleasure. +He knew that we hungered for the tales, and his heart was too big and +too kind to allow him to refrain from an act that was likely to give +pleasure to anyone. There never beat a warmer, kinder heart than that +which throbbed beneath Ned M'Grane's torn and soot-stained coat. + +Joe Clinton was telling us one evening about a narrow escape he and Tom +Brangan and a couple more of the boys had the night before in Rowan's +demesne when they went to set their rabbit-snares, and very nearly fell +into the hands of the police from Castletown, who had been told by the +old Major to keep a look-out for poachers. + +"We were just gettin' across the wall below at the dark avenue," Joe +told us; "Tom was inside in the wood an' I was on top o' the wall, an' +Phil Geraghty an' Andy Reilly was on the road, when we heard the sprigs +cracklin' an' breakin' in the wood an' out comes a sheep, runnin' like +from the lawn as if somethin' was after frightenin' her, an' then when +the moon came out a bit from behind a cloud, didn't we see the two +boyos tryin' to steal unknownst to us, along the brink o' the wood. I'm +sure they heard me talkin' down to the lads on the road--an' Tom had +only time to climb up the wall an' jump down after me, when we heard +them tearin' in thro' the leaves an' brosna, an' sure we ran like a +go-as-you-please race, an' the dickens a one of us was to be seen when +they got as far as the wall." + +"Only for the sheep you'd be nabbed," said Seumas Shanley. + +"Oh, they had us as neat as could be, an' our darlin' han'ful o' new +snares along with us," said Joe, "only that they frightened the sheep +in the right time. She was a lucky sheep for us anyway." + +"Sheep an' goats must be good to poachers always," said Ned M'Grane, as +he let the hammer rest on the anvil, and cast the horse-shoe on which +he had been working into the trough, "for 'twas Tim Brogan's old white +goat that nearly thumped the life out o' the Scotch game-keeper that +was in Archdale's, an' he runnin' after young Joe Magee long ago, an' +'twas a ram that saved Jimmy the Thrick when the Sojer M'Keon came at +him an' he after killin' the two hares above on the Mullagh. The sheep +an' goats must have a grâdh for the poachers, I'm thinkin'." + +At the mention of "Jimmy the Thrick" we cocked our ears, because we +knew that whenever Ned spoke of Jimmy he had a story to tell about him, +and we knew that a story in which Jimmy figured was sure to be a good +one. So we cocked our ears while Joe Clinton was asking Ned how the ram +managed to save Jimmy from his enemies, and we were, I need hardly +say, delighted when we noticed that Ned took out his pipe and commenced +to fill it before he made any reply. + +"There wasn't in all Ireland, I think, a poacher that had as much +darin' in him as Jimmy the Thrick when he was a young fellow. There +wasn't a hare or a rabbit in the country safe from him, an' neither +gamekeeper nor peeler could ever lay hands on him. He was within an ace +o' bein' caught as often as he has fingers an' toes on his body, an' +every time, by hook or by crook, he'd dodge the peelers an' get away +from them, an' every gamekeeper in the country 'd swear to you at the +time that if there ever was a divil in Ireland that divil was Jimmy +Malone. A hundred times they set traps for him an' failed to catch him. +He'd take the hares an' rabbits from under their very noses almost, +an' he often had a snare set above at Rowan's hall-door, but catch or +catch they couldn't do on him. He could run as fast as a hare himself, +an' he had more tricks an' dodges an' plans in his head than any hare +that ever lay in a form. Sure one day an' the huntsmen an' the beagles +in full cry after a hare below in Hoey's Bottom, didn't he watch beside +a little gap in the wall that he knew she'd go through, and had a sack +opened, with the mouth of it round the hole, an' when the poor hare +came along at full speed thro' the gap, where did she go only right +into the sack, an' Jimmy had her at home in his own house before the +huntsmen knew that the hounds were after losin' the trail. Oh, he was +a holy terror, the same Jimmy, but he was that lively an' full o' +divilment an' fun, but with no bad turn in him, that the dickens a one +in the country 'd say a word against him or give a hint o' where he'd +be to peeler or anyone else. + +"Well, one summer there came home a fellow that was after bein' a sojer +out in India or somewhere--his name was Jack M'Keon, but no one called +him anythin' only the Sojer M'Keon--an' o' course none o' the young +fellows about 'd be seen in his company an' he after takin' John Bull's +shillin' an' fightin' against them that never done him or his country +any harm, so who did he get in with only Tony Smith that was gamekeeper +in Rowan's at the time, an' it seems Tony promised to get him a job +as a sort of under-gamekeeper after a while, because he used to do +anythin' Tony 'd ask him to do; an' one o' the things was to pimp after +and watch Jimmy Malone, an' to nab him in the act o' poachin' if he +could. + +"'Twas easy enough to make the Sojer do that, because he hated Jimmy +from the time they used to be goin' to school in Kilfane together, an' +had some row or other, an' along with that, too, M'Keon began skulkin' +after a girl that Jimmy was fond of--Julia Dermody, that's his wife +this thirty years nearly--an' that made the two o' them bitter enemies. +M'Keon had some money after comin' home, wherever he got it--some used +to say he robbed it, but no one was certain--an' old Hugh Dermody +was more inclined to give him Julia than he was to give her to Jimmy +Malone, because Jimmy was poor, an' old Dermody was a miser always. +Julia 'd marry no one only Jimmy, but M'Keon thought that if he got +him into jail for poachin' she'd be so much ashamed of it that she'd +give him up an' marry himself. So you might say it was a bitter bit +o' dodgin' between the peelers an' old Tony Smith an' the Sojer M'Keon +against poor Jimmy the Thrick, an' only for he was the man he was, he'd +spend many a long day in jail for his poachin'. But it was easier to +catch a hare than to catch Jimmy Malone, so it was, an' many a hard run +the Sojer M'Keon had after him for nothin', an' many a laugh there was +through the country over Jimmy an' his tricks. An' the best of it was +that the Sojer himself used to be poachin' as much as Jimmy, an' well +the peelers knew that, an' the dickens a much of a grádh they had for +him. + +"Well, one fine July mornin' about four o'clock, Jimmy went over to +the off side o' the Mullaghs to the farthest field next to Appleby's +land--'twas called the Sheep Field that time as well as now, an' the +Mullaghs belonged to the Rowans o' course--to look at a few snares he +was after settin' in it the night before, an' didn't he get two darlin' +fine hares an' they just nearly dead with the pullin' an' tuggin' +they had to get away. Jimmy wasn't long finishin' them, and he was +crossin' back next the wood again when all of a sudden he heard the +racin' up behind him, an' before he could turn round he got a bump that +lifted him off his feet, and then another, an' the next minute he was +sprawlin' on the ground an' a big black-faced ram o' the old Major's +standin' over him an' lookin' at him as much as to say, 'You're downed +at last, Jimmy Malone!' Jimmy used to tell me after that he could read +the very words in the ram's eyes the same as if he was sayin' them. + +"'Your behaviour was very unfair, sir,' says Jimmy to the boyo, an' he +risin' to his feet, 'but I'll be expectin' your salute the next time, +an' I don't think you'll have the pleasure o' givin' it. Just gi'me a +fair start, an' see which of us'll be at the wood first. Now, one, two, +three, an' off we go.' An' Jimmy started to run quicker nor ever he +went before, but he wasn't two minutes runnin' when he got the thump +again an' down he had to flop a second time in spite of himself, an' +there was the ram standin' over him an' his eyes sayin', 'It's not the +Sojer M'Keon or the peelers that's in it this time, Jimmy,' an' all my +poor Jimmy could do was groan an' feel himself where he was sore. + +"'This won't do for Jimmy Malone, if he doesn't want to be caught, so +you'll allow me to lead you to the ditch,' says Jimmy, catchin' hold o' +the ram's horns, an' startin' to drag him along as well as he could, +an' the bucko draggin' against him. If he got him as far as the wood he +knew he'd be all right, because he could manage to get away from him, +but in the open field there was no chance. So there was Jimmy with his +two hands grippin' the ram's horns, an' the hares tied round his waist, +an' he tryin' to coax the lad over to the edge o' the wood till he'd +get away from him. + +"He was about three hundred yards from the wood, an' the ram stickin' +his feet in the ground an' refusin' to budge an inch, when who did he +see comin' across the field at full trot only the Sojer M'Keon an' +he leerin' like a monkey. Jimmy got a bit of a start when he saw him +first, because he thought the peelers 'd be with him, but when he knew +there was only the Sojer in it, he was delighted instead o' bein' +afraid. + +"The Sojer came up to him, an' a big stick in his hand an' he chucklin' +an' grinnin' with delight. + +"'Ha, ha, Mister Malone,' says he to Jimmy, 'you're nabbed at last. +'Twasn't enough to be snarin' the Major's hares an' rabbits, but you +must turn to stealin' his mountainy sheep. Gettin' a likin' for mutton, +is that it, Mister Malone? They'll hardly give you any mutton in jail, +though, unless Julia an' myself sends you a bit o' what we'll have +at the weddin'. No girl 'd like to marry a sheep-stealer; would she, +Mister Malone?' + +"Jimmy was ragin', but he knew that if it came to a fight with M'Keon +the Sojer 'd beat him, because he was a powerful big man, an' along +with that if the peelers came an' they squabblin', M'Keon 'd accuse him +o' sheep-stealin' an' poachin' an' he'd be done for. So he kept his +temper, an' says he, real quiet an' humble like: + +"'You have me this time, Jack,' says he, 'but what's the use o' +tormentin' a fellow. I gave the whole lot o' you a good run for it, +anyway, an' I'm not goin' to cry over it. An' sure if Julia Dermody +doesn't want me she can have the man that caught me, an' welcome. +There's your friends, the peelers, comin', an' you can call them to +arrest me.' + +"'Where?--where are they? Where are they?' says the Sojer, turnin' +round, an' he real excited an' like as if he was frightened. + +"As soon as he turned round, Jimmy let go his hold o' the ram's horns +an' away with him for the wood, racin' faster than ever he went in his +life before. M'Keon got as big a surprise as the 'sheep,' as he took +Jimmy's gentleman friend to be, but as soon as he saw the dodge, off he +started after him an' he shoutin' to him to stop. He couldn't run well, +though, because he was stiff an' lazy, an' the dickens a very far he +went when he got a thump from the ram's horns that made him yell, an' +the next minute there he was stretched at full length on the grass, an' +the ram standin' over him as mild as you please. The Sojer gave him a +string of army curses an' up he jumps again an' after Jimmy--the boyo +was within a few perch o' the wood an' he runnin' for the bare life an' +never lookin' behind him--but the dickens a far Mister M'Keon went till +the ram was up with him an' had him stretched on the grass the same as +before, an' he cursin' for all he was worth. + +"When Jimmy got into the shelter o' the wood he drew his breath an' +looked round, an' there he saw my brave Sojer an' he havin' a hold o' +the ram's horns the same as he was himself a few minutes before that +an' he pullin' at his best an' the ram pullin' against him, an' risin' +with every jump now an' again that nearly lifted the Sojer off his feet. + +"Jimmy couldn't help laughin' if all the peelers in Ireland was in the +wood behind him, when he saw the way the ram had the life frightened +out o' the Sojer. + +"'So you're goin' to have mutton at the weddin', Mister M'Keon,' says +he, 'an' you'll maybe send a bit to the sheep-stealer an' he in jail? +That's very kind o' you entirely, an' I must tell Julia when I see +her, in case you'd forget it. I'm afraid a ram 'd be middlin' tough +eatin' though--even for a sojer. Will you stay there till I go home +for my camera, an' I'll take your photograph an' show it to Julia? +Ah! can't you let the poor old ram go; sure he can't give evidence +against the notorious sheep-stealer, Jimmy Malone. Let him go, an' come +over here, an' I'll give you the hares. You won't? Well, I'll have to +be sayin' good mornin', Mister M'Keon, an' I hope you'll enjoy the +game-keepin' if you get it. If I see your friends, the peelers, I'll +send them to your assistance. Good mornin', Mister M'Keon.' + +"An' off went Jimmy as fast as he could leg it, an' 'twas well for him +he did, because the peelers wasn't as far away as he thought they were. +The Major sent for them to come over early that mornin' to see where +some one tore up a lot o' young trees that he was after gettin' planted +above on the side o' the Mullagh, an' when himself an' them came into +the Sheep Field didn't they see the Sojer M'Keon an' he beatin' the +Major's prize ram with a big stick an' tryin' to drag him over to the +ditch. The Sojer was in such a temper with the ram that he never saw +them until they were up beside him, an' sure he nearly fell with the +start he got when the Major roared at him to let go the ram. Only for +the peelers the Major 'd kill him. The Sojer went to tell the story o' +catchin' Jimmy Malone, but sure they thought it was all a make-up, an' +they arrested him on the spot for abusin' the ram, an' along with that +he had a couple o' score o' snares tied round his waist an' a fine big +hare under his coat. It was found out, too, that it was him rooted up +the young trees an' sold them to a man in Castletown, an' 'gorra if he +didn't get six months in jail, an' only he was a sojer they'd give him +five years. He never came back here again, an' the dickens a one was +sorry for him, because he was a bad weed. + +"An' that's how Jimmy settled the Sojer." + + + + +THE CONFISCATED BACON + + +The coaxing of a story from Ned M'Grane, the blacksmith, was +sometimes the easiest matter in the world, and sometimes a task in +the accomplishing of which all the tact and diplomacy of a Government +Ambassador would be absolutely essential. It all depended on the humour +he was in at the time. If things had gone well with him during the day; +if he hadn't been disappointed in getting coal from the town or if +nobody had come to ask him in an aggrieved tone, "Why the blazes aren't +you doin' them wheels for me?" or if nobody had told him that another +penny in the pound had been added to the taxation of Ireland or that +some Englishman had said the Irish were only a pack of savages until +the English, out of pure charity, came over and civilised them. If none +of these things occurred to rile Ned M'Grane, we had no difficulty +whatever in getting a story from him whenever we went to the forge; +and that was almost every evening throughout the winter months, and +sometimes in the summer, too, when the ground was too wet for the +hurling. + +'Twas easy to know when he was in bad humour. He hardly seemed to hear +our conversation at all, but worked away in silence, broken now and +then by short and vigorous comments on the matter that had vexed him +during the day, such as "Who the dickens cares about him or his wheels? +I'd be rich if I was dependin' on his custom--heh!" or "What'll +they do next, I wonder? Make us pay rates for every time we say our +prayers?--the pack o' robbers. I wish I had some o' their heads under +this!" And then there would be a crashing blow on the anvil that shook +the forge and awakened memories of the Blacksmith of Limerick who +crushed the heads of the Williamites with his sledge, long ago. On such +occasions we never attempted to engage Ned in conversation until his +work for the day was finished, and the pipe and tobacco were called +into requisition. Even then, if we saw by his manner or his countenance +that a dark memory of the matters that had disturbed him during the day +remained in his mind, we wisely refrained from beating about the bush +for a story. + +Ned's dark moods, however, were rare, and his grand, hearty laughter +and sparkling wit and delightful stories, when in his usual form, more +than compensated for them, and never allowed us to adversely criticise +them, no matter how dark or fierce they might be; and then we, young +fellows, loved Ned M'Grane as devotedly and as warmly as he loved us. + +One evening in the springtime we were gathered as usual in the forge, +after a good, long day's work in the fields, and Ned was very busy with +plough accessories and harrow pins and other farming implements, but +he was in the best of humour all the same. He joked some of us about +getting married, sang snatches of songs in his big, rich voice, and +laughed at some of the news we had brought him with the gay vivacity +of a boy. There wasn't a subject under the sun but was debated in the +forge, and Ned's witticisms remained in all our minds long after the +matters debated had been forgotten. + +"I wonder how many'll take the advice Father Martin gave last Sunday +about the killin' o' the pigs," said Matty Reilly, as he fiddled with a +lot of horse-shoe nails in a box. + +"It's all very fine to be talkin'," said Jim Cassidy, "but if the +people kill their own pigs, what are they goin' to pay the rent with?" + +"Didn't he tell them what they could do it with?" said Jack Dunne, as +he cleared the stem of his pipe with a very fine piece of wire which +Ned always kept by him for that purpose; "didn't he tell them that +they could pay the rent with the money they give to the shopkeepers +for bad American bacon that's pisinin' their blood an' that there's no +nourishment in? An' sure he said the truth. You might as well be eatin' +roasted beech-leaves as some o' the bacon you'd get in shops. The divil +another bit of it'll come into our house, if we were never to pay the +rent." + +"If you saw Peadar Byrne," said Bartle Gormley, from a corner, "when +Father Martin was talkin' about the killin' o' the pigs, an' the savin' +o' the money. He could only catch an odd word, an' he had the bothered +ear cocked in a way that I never saw it at the readin' o' the Gospel." + +"Maybe," said Ned, with a comical look, "maybe he thought there was +pigs goin' for nothin', an' that he'd miss one if he didn't listen." + +The discussion ended in a laugh, as all discussions usually did when +Ned M'Grane had spoken, and every man started to light his pipe. Ned +worked on in silence for a while, and after a long spell, during which +there came no remark from him, he said, in careless fashion: + +"I wonder was Jimmy Malone--Jimmy the Thrick--listenin' to Father +Martin talkin' about the bacon?" + +"He was then," said Bartle Gormley, "because I saw him leanin' over the +seat down near the door an' whisperin' somethin' to Andy Cregan, an' +whatever it was the two o' them was laughin' over it when they came out +on the road." + +"I know what he was whisperin' about," said Ned, "an' so well he might +laugh, because the bacon he used to get above twenty years ago was +better an' cheaper than ever he ate since. He wouldn't get anyone +simple enough now to give him bacon for nothin'." + +"An' how did he get it for nothin' that time, Ned?" asked Bartle, and +as he spoke all other conversation was suspended, and we gathered in +close to the anvil, apparently careless, but every mother's son of us +eager as could be for the story which we knew from experience lay at +the back of Ned's remark on Jimmy Malone's behaviour. + +"Do you remember Neddy an' Phil M'Govern that died within a week of +each other, just this time two years?" asked Ned. + +Of course we had all known the two old brothers and their eccentric +ways, and had often peeped in at them as they argued by the fire, and +we told Ned as much. + +"Well, they were just as odd an' as comical in their ways when they +were close on fifty years of age as when eighty was drawin' near them, +an' if I could only remember them, I know as many stories about Neddy +an' Phil as would keep me talkin' for a whole week without stoppin'. +They were the queerest couple ever walked in shoe leather or bare +feet--may God be good to them this night. At the time I'm goin' to +tell you about they didn't live together, as they did when you knew +them. Phil lived with an old uncle o' his beyond at Hogan's well, where +you'll see the walls o' the house standin' still, and Neddy lived by +himself in the house on the hill there above, where they died, an' +where Tom M'Dermott, their sister's son, is livin' now. Neither one +nor th' other o' them ever got married, because I suppose no girl +'d have them (you needn't laugh)--some people 'd say because they'd +begrudge spendin' any money on the weddin', but I don't believe that, +as hard as they were--and the way they had o' livin' was as comical +as ever you knew. Jimmy the Thrick, to give him the name he was best +known by in his young days, lived over there on the hill, not far away +from Neddy--that was, of course, before he married into the wife's +place--an' he'd tell you stones about Neddy's housekeepin' that'd make +you laugh if you had the toothache. An' the best o' them all is the +story that Jimmy himself had most to do with. + +"Jimmy, you must know, was a terrible playboy at that time an' nobody +was safe from his tricks. He couldn't rest at night unless he was after +makin' a fool o' somebody, or after playin' some trick durin' the day. +He was never easy, mornin', noon or night. + +"The people long ago used to kill their own pigs, an' you'd never see +backs of American bacon hangin' up in country houses like you do now, +an' signs on it, everyone was twice as healthy. 'Twas the talk about +what Father Martin said last Sunday that put this story about Neddy an' +Phil an' Jimmy into my head. On account of only the two o' them an' the +old uncle bein' in it, they used only kill one pig between them every +year an' divide it. Neddy'd kill one this year, an' send the half of +it over to Phil an' the uncle, an' whatever he had too much after that +he'd give to the sister that was married in Knockbride; then the next +year Phil 'd kill a pig an' send the half of it to Neddy, an' so on. + +"This year, anyway, that I'm talkin' about, it happened that it was +Neddy's turn to kill the pig, an' what do you think but one o' the +shopkeepers in Castletown said to him that if he was thinkin' o' +killin' a pig that year an' didn't want it all, that he had a customer +that wanted a piece o' home-cured bacon, an' would give the highest +price for it. Neddy wasn't very rich, an' he thought to himself when +he came home that if he could get out o' the obligation o' givin' half +the pig to Phil, he'd be all right. He could make a couple o' pound for +himself an' have enough o' bacon for the year as well. What was he to +do at all? The only thing he could think of was to pretend to sell it +along with the other pig at the fair that was near at hand. But then +Phil 'd be at the fair an' helpin' to make the bargain, an' he'd see +that only one o' the pigs was sold. He couldn't hit on a plan of any +kind that'd be good enough, an' he was goin' to give up in despair when +who comes in but my brave Jimmy Malone--'twas evenin' time--to have a +smoke an' to warm his shins at Neddy's fire. + +"Neddy knew that Jimmy was never at a loss for a plan for anythin' an' +he ups an' tells him the story o' the pig an' the terrible puzzle he +was in. Jimmy listened with great attention, an' was very simple an' +solemn-lookin', but the divilment came into his head, an' says he to +Neddy, when he heard the whole story: + +"'It'd be a mortial shame, Neddy,' says he, 'for you to lose the couple +o' pound an' you wantin' it so badly, an' especially when you say that +Phil's two pigs is better nor your own an' that he didn't divide fair +with you last year. It'd be a terrible shame, Neddy, an' I'm goin' to +get you out o' the hobble or know for what. I'll just tell you in a few +words the best thing for you to do. Kill the pig unknownst to Phil, an' +scrape it, an' clean it out, an' then hang it up at the gable end o' +the house, an' leave it there when you're goin' to bed. Then the first +thing in the mornin' get up before anyone else thinks o' risin' an' +bring in the pig and salt it, an' put it above in the room, an' cover +it as much as you can; an' then go round the whole townlan' from this +to Larry Boylan's beyond, an' clap your hands an' cry an' moan an' be +in a terrible state, an' tell everybody that someone took your pig down +from the gable--an' sure that'll be no lie for you--an' no matter what +Phil or your uncle or anyone else says, keep on lamentin' and cryin' +an' sayin' that your pig is gone from the gable, an' that poor Phil 'll +have to be eatin' American bacon this year; an' if that doesn't work +all right an' leave your pig with you, my name is not Jimmy Malone.' + +"Neddy kep' showerin' blessin's down on top o' Jimmy's head for +half-an-hour, an' sayin' he was the cleverest man in Ireland, an' that +he ought to be a lawyer, an' there was the boyo, drinkin' it all in as +solemn as you please, an' assurin' Neddy that he'd do anythin' for a +good neighbour. At last he got up to go home an' the word he said to +Neddy an' he goin' out on the door was: 'Remember, Neddy, no matter +what anyone says to you keep on cryin' and sayin' that the pig is gone. +Don't forget that. In any case, I'll be down again to remind you of it.' + +"Neddy said he wouldn't forget anythin', an' away went Jimmy the Thrick +up to his own house, an' he laughin' to himself at the way he was goin' +to hoax old Neddy M'Govern. + +"Phil was away at the bog beyond for the turf the next day--the old +uncle never used to stir out o' the house, and along with that he was +bothered--an' my brave Neddy sent up for Jimmy Malone an' for Tom +Molloy, the herd that was in Rowan's, an' Tom killed the pig, an' went +off, an' then Neddy an' Jimmy cleaned it out, an' Jimmy went home, +after goin' over the instructions again to Neddy, an' puttin' him on +his guard to keep on cryin' the pig, no matter what any man, woman or +child in the townland'd say to him. + +"About ten o'clock that night--the people used to go to bed early +them times--Neddy put a big holdfast the length o' your arm into the +gable end o' the house, and tied the pig's hind crubeens together, +an' histed it on his back--there wasn't a stronger man in the country +than Neddy--an' brought it out an' hung it there, with its snout just +tippin' the ground, an' back he goes an' into bed with him, leavin' +the pig hangin' there for any dog that might have a fancy for fresh +bacon. + +"The dogs didn't get much of a chance, though, because Neddy wasn't +half-an-hour in bed when down comes Jimmy the Thrick from his own house +an' he creepin' along the same as if he didn't want to waken the birds, +an' when he came to the gable-end o' Neddy's house he just rubbed down +the pig with his hands to see if it was dry enough, an' then got in +under it, an' histed it on his back, an' away with him up the path +along the hedge to his own house an' he staggerin' under the weight o' +the pig. + +"He stayed up all that night cuttin' the bacon an' saltin' it--he was +the best hand in the whole country at doin' up a pig--an' when he had +it all cut he packed it in a big box that he had for turf in a corner +o' the kitchen, an' then he went to bed an' slept like a top. + +"The daylight was only in it when up gets Neddy an' out he goes to +fetch in the pig, but it wasn't an easy job to do, because there was +no pig at the gable. He looked all round the place, thinkin' maybe +somebody took it down for a joke; but it was nowhere to be seen, an' +Neddy ran like a madman over to Phil's, an' nothin' only his shirt an' +trousers on him, an' wakened him up, an' accused him of takin' the pig. +Phil got into a tearin' rage for he sayin' that at all, an' there was +the two o' them into it at five o'clock in the mornin', bargin' away +like two old women, an' callin' each other all the names they could +think of. At last, Phil an' the uncle hunted Neddy, an' he went round +all the neighbours clappin' his hands an' tellin' about some daylight +robber stealin' his darlin' pig in the middle o' the night; an' +everyone thought Neddy M'Govern was after goin' cracked entirely, an' +they gave him no satisfaction at all, only told him to go home an' go +to bed or to put the rest of his clothes on him, an' sorra consolation +and sorra trace o' the pig Neddy could get, high up or low down; and +back he comes to his own house, an' searched round twice as sharp as +before in every hole an' corner, but dickens a sight or light o' the +pig he could see anywhere. + +"Then he thought o' Jimmy Malone, an' that maybe Jimmy could help him, +an' away he went up to Jimmy's house an' he like a man out of his mind. +Jimmy saw him comin', but he never pretended he was up out o' bed at +all, and when Neddy began to knock at the door an' kick it, Jimmy +shouted from the room like as if he was only wakenin' out of his sleep: + +"'Who's that?' + +"'It's me, Jimmy; I want you. Get up!' + +"Jimmy put his head out o' the window. + +"'Oh, is it you, Neddy?' says he, as if he wasn't expectin' Neddy at +all. 'Well, did that work all right?' says he, rubbin' his eyes and +yawnin'. + +"'The pig is gone, Jimmy! Some robber stole him last night!' + +"''Gorra, Neddy, you're a topper! That's the very way I wanted you to +say it. What did Phil say, or did you go to him yet?' + +"'Phil the divil, man!' shouted Neddy. 'The pig was stole last night, I +tell you, an' I can't get sight or light of it.' + +"'Good, Neddy, good! There's not an actor in Dublin could do it better +than that. Stick at it, my boyo, an' there's not a man in the townland +but 'll believe you lost the pig!' + +"'Jimmy, will you listen to me, or are you gone mad like the rest o' +them? I'm tellin' no lie at all. The pig wasn't there when I came out +this mornin', an' tale or tidin's of it I can't find anywhere. What am +I to do at all, at all?' + +"''Gorra, Neddy, that's grand! An' only I'm in my shirt I'd go out an' +clap you on the back. If you could only see your face this minute, +you'd nearly believe yourself that the pig is gone. You lost it that +didn't go with a circus when you were young, Neddy; you'd be a rich man +to-day. Only go round the townland an' your face like that, an' the +divil a bit o' the pig Phil 'll ever taste!' + +"Jimmy kept on like that, an' Neddy kept fumin' an' pleadin' an' +cursin' and lamentin' outside in the yard until he saw it was no use to +stay there any longer, an' home he went again, tearin' an' swearin' an' +he nearly crazy. + +"In a few hours after that, Jimmy the lad strolled down as unconcerned +as you please, an' there was Neddy with his Sunday clothes on him an' +he just ready for a journey. + +"'Where are you goin', Neddy?' says he, the same as if he got a +terrible surprise. + +"'I'm goin' over to Castletown to tell the peelers, an' to get them to +look for the thief that stole my pig!' says Neddy, very uncivil like, +because he wasn't at all thankful to Jimmy for his plan, when he saw +the way it turned out. + +"'Ah, that's goin' too far with it, Neddy,' says the Thrick. 'Doesn't +Phil believe you yet about the stealin' o' the pig--the plan we made +up? You'll only get found out if you go as far as tellin' the peelers.' + +"'But, tundher an' ouns, man,' shouted poor Neddy, 'is there any use +in tellin' you the pig was stole? See is he in the house, sure, if you +don't believe me!' + +"Jimmy looked round the house an' he winkin' at Neddy all the time, as +much as to say, 'You're the king o' tricks, Neddy,' but at long last he +was convinced that Neddy did lose the pig, an' he had great sympathy +for him, by the way, an' 'twas no wonder any man to be vexed over such +a dirty, mean deed, an' if he had the thief there he'd do this, that +an' th'other to him as sure as his name was Jimmy Malone. + +"'An' is it any wonder I'm goin' for the peelers, Jimmy?' says Neddy to +him. + +"'Not a bit o' wonder in the world, Neddy; but I'd advise you not to +go.' + +"'An why wouldn't I go, man? How do you think I'm goin' to catch the +robber if I don't go?' + +"'You oughtn't to go for the peelers,' says Jimmy, an' he lookin' about +him an' speakin' very low, 'because I think I know who took the pig!' + +"'Who?' says Neddy. 'Who, Jimmy?' + +"'Sh!' says Jimmy, 'don't talk that loud. I'm thinkin' 'twas the good +people--the fairies. Did you ever do anythin' to them--anythin' to vex +them?' + +"'Never!' says Neddy, 'that I know of!' + +"'Are you sure, now?' says Jimmy, 'because they never do anythin' to +anyone that doesn't offend them. Did you cut the grass round the lone +bush in the Fort Field above last summer, an' you mowin' the meadow?' + +"'I did, sure enough!' says Neddy; 'but I didn't touch the tree.' + +"'Aye, but you cut the grass, Neddy, an' they claim the grass that +grows round every lone bush in the land. It's the fairies that took the +pig, Neddy, but that was only to warn you, an' I'm sure they'll give +it back. Instead o' goin' for the peelers or anyone else, wait until +to-morrow night--it's May Eve--at twelve o'clock, an' go up to the fort +an' walk round the lone bush three times, an' you'll be sure to hear +somethin' about the bacon. But tell no one, an' let no one see you +goin' or you're done for. An' if the fairies speak to you, answer them +very respectful, an' do whatever they tell you an' you'll be all right. +It's only twice in the year they'd speak to any livin' person--at May +Eve an' at Hollantide--an' you ought to make the most of your chance, +considerin' that the fort is on your own land.' + +"''Gorra, I'll chance it, anyway, Jimmy!' says Neddy, and down he sits +himself at the fire, an' says no more about the peelers or the thief. + +"Well, to make a long story short, Neddy was at the fort the next +night at a quarter to twelve. As soon as Jimmy saw him goin'--for he +was watchin' him--he lifts the box o' bacon on to a wheelbarrow--he +was after greasin' the axle for twenty minutes so that it wouldn't +screech--an' down he goes with it along the path an' left it where he +got it, at the gable-end o' Neddy's house, an' then he left the barrow +back an' stole away up along the hedges till he was standin' within +half a perch o' Neddy, only that the big hedge was between them. + +"When Neddy thought it was twelve o'clock he started an' walked three +times round the lone bush, an' then he stopped an' listened an' he +afraid of his life to look one side or th' other of him. + +"'Neddy M'Govern!' says a queer, strange voice from the far side o' the +hedge, an' when Neddy heard it he shivered from head to foot. + +"'Yes, your Majesty,' says Neddy. + +"'We're displeased with you, Neddy M'Govern,' says the voice, an' Neddy +thought it was out o' the air it came this time, but he was afraid +to look up; 'we're displeased with you, because last summer you cut +the grass round this bush that's our property, an' for that reason +we confiscated your pig. Are you sorry for cuttin' the grass, Neddy +M'Govern?' + +"'I am, indeed, your Majesty!' says Neddy, an' his voice shakin'. + +"'Will you promise never to cut it again, Neddy M'Govern, an' will you +give us your solemn word of honour to carry out all the commands an' +conditions we're pleased to impose on you now?' + +"'I will, your Majesty!' says Neddy, 'I'll do anything your Majesty +wants.' + +"'Very well, Neddy M'Govern, we'll give you back your pig on three +conditions. You're to divide the bacon as usual with your brother, +Phil!' + +"'Yes, your Majesty.' + +"'There's a decent, honest, respectable man livin' near you, called +James Malone. You're to give him the biggest an' best ham off this pig +an' off every pig you kill in future!' + +"'Yes, your Majesty.' + +"'An' you're never to open your lips to anybody about your visit here +to-night, nor to tell livin' man or mortal anythin' we're after sayin' +to you.' + +"'No, your Majesty.' + +"'That'll do, Neddy M'Govern. Now, walk round that bush three times +again, an' then straight across to the gap an' down the boreen to your +own house, an' look neither up in the air, nor behind you, nor to +either side o' you, an' when you go home you'll find your pig in the +place it was when we confiscated it. It's cut an' salted an' packed, +an' will be fit for use in ten days an' ten nights. Remember your +promises, Neddy M'Govern!' + +"'Yes, your Majesty,' says Neddy again, an' then he done what he was +told, an' when he went back there was the bacon at the gable-end o' +the house where 'his Majesty,' Jimmy the Thrick, was after leavin' it. +Neddy, of course, was delighted, an' he shared the bacon with Phil, +an' gave the biggest ham to Jimmy--there was one ham cut very big--an' +from that until he died there wasn't a pig he killed but Jimmy got a +ham off it, an' no one knew anythin' about it until Jimmy himself told +Father Martin about it the day o' Neddy's funeral, an' I dunno how they +settled the matter between them. An' that's the whole story about Jimmy +Malone an' the bacon." + + + + +"BOW-WOW" + + +Nobody could listen to Ned M'Grane's laughter and refrain from laughing +himself; it was so airy, so wholehearted, so pleasant, that it became, +after the initial explosion, contagious, and if the forge were full of +young fellows--as it generally was--the smith's hearty "Ha, ha, ha-ah!" +set them all in tune, and there would be a chorus of laughter under +that old roof fit to rouse the most despondent heart that ever made its +owner believe he was in the blues, and that caused passers-by to stand +for a moment on the road and listen, and they usually murmured, as they +wagged their heads and walked on, "Ned must be after tellin' a good one +now." It was, I think, the most cheering and exhilarating thing I have +ever heard--the laughter of Ned M'Grane, the blacksmith of Balnagore. + +No wonder, then, that we chimed in with Ned's more than usually +vigorous "Ha, ha, ha-ah!" when Andy Murtagh was telling the smith about +the "tallyvangin'," as he called it, that old Maire Lanigan, of the +Red Bog, had given to Larry Boylan of our own townland, at the inquiry +in Castletown, under the Old Age Pensions Act. The smith, as Andy +proceeded with the story, had laid down the hammer on the anvil, had +taken off his cap and wiped his perspiring brow with the back of his +hand, and had laughed until we caught the contagion, and were obliged +to join him, though as to the real cause of his merriment we were at +the time ignorant. + +"What else did she say?" he inquired, the tears which the laughter +had called forth streaming down his dust-covered cheeks. "I'm sure +Old Crusty was sweatin', an' divil mend him! What's the likes of him +wantin' with a pension anyhow?" + +"She said 'twas a ticket for the next world he ought to be lookin' for +an' not an old age pension," said Andy, "an' when she had everyone +laughin' at him she said somethin' like the way an old dog'd bark, an' +went off with herself, an' whatever it was it made Larry twice as mad +as all the tallyvangin' o' the tongue she gave him. He was ragin'." + +"Ha, ha, ha-ah!" shouted Ned M'Grane again, and of course we had to +join in, though we couldn't see that there was very much to laugh at in +Andy's story after all. + +When Ned had laughed in boisterous fashion for a minute or two he +resumed his work, but every now and then he would give a short chuckle +of delight to himself, as he made the sparks fly in showers from the +burning iron upon which he was working. + +"It's not the first time she set Old Crusty mad," he said at length, +more to himself than to us, as he gave the finishing short, sharp taps +to the article he was shaping, and cast it from him into the trough +beside the anvil to cool. We were beginning to guess from this remark +and from his behaviour while Andy was telling him of the encounter +between the old pair at the inquiry, that there was a story in Ned's +head which we had not yet heard, and as he proceeded to fill his pipe, +after donning his coat, I ventured to say: + +"Why, what did she do to him before to-day, Ned?" + +"What didn't she do to him?" Ned asked, in return. "She made him the +maddest man I ever saw in my life, an' as small as--as that bit o' +tobacco. I don't wonder what she said an' she goin' off to-day left him +vexed enough; it put him in mind o' when she made him a laughin'-stock +for the whole county--that's what it did." + +"When was that, Ned?" we all asked, in a breath. "Was it long ago?" + +"'Twas long ago, sure enough, but not long enough to make Larry forget +it," said Ned, as he teased the tobacco in the hollow of his hand, and +then packed his pipe. + +"Gi' me a match, some o' you, an' when I have a few draws o' this I'll +tell you all about it." + +Everybody fumbled in all his pockets for matches, and soon Ned had a +supply sufficient to last for a week. He carefully lighted his pipe, +took a few pulls, and then seated himself on a box in which there had +been horse-shoe nails--the only easy-chair the forge contained. + +"Let me see," he said, as he took the pipe from his mouth for a minute +and gazed intently into the bowl, as if his inspiration lay therein. +"It's nearer to thirty years ago than it is to twenty, an' the oldest +o' you here was only toddlin' from the fire to the dresser an' back +again. I was a lump of a gossoon at the time, an' I remember it as well +as yesterday, an' good reason I have to remember it, because every +man, woman, an' child in the country was talkin' about it, an' laughin' +at Larry, as well they might. + +"Maire Lanigan, you must know, was a bigger play-actor of a woman when +she was younger than she is now. She was as tricky as a fox, an' no one +could match her in every kind o' cleverness, though you'd think to look +at her that she was only a gom. She an' old Charley the husband--God +be good to him!--had that little farm o' the Lynches at that time, an' +were middlin' well off, havin' neither chick nor child to bother about. +They used to rear calves an' pigs an' sell them at good prices, but the +dickens a one o' them ever Charley sold, because he was too shy an' +quiet an' easy-goin' always. Maire is the one that could thrash out a +bargain an' haggle an' wrangle an' dispute until she'd have the whole +fair lookin' at her an' laughin' at her; an' there wasn't a jobber ever +came into the fair o' Castletown but knew her as well as they knew a +good beast or a bad one. + +"Well, one May fair--the biggest fair that ever was in Castletown, the +old people 'll tell you--Charley an' Maire had a fine lump of a calf to +sell that they reared themselves from he was calved, an' they brought +him out brave an' early in the mornin' to get rid of him, if they could +come across a buyer. They weren't long in the fair, anyway, when who +comes up to them but Mickey Flanagan--God rest him!--Jack the Jobber's +father, an' begins to make the bargain with Maire. After a lot o' +disputin' an' squabblin' an' dividin' o' this crown an' that half-crown +an' a lot o' shoutin' on Maire's part, Mickey bought the calf, an' says +he: + +"'Meet me at Kennedy's, below near the railway, at three o'clock, an' +I'll pay you, along with the rest.' + +"'No, but you'll pay me this minute,' says Maire, 'or you'll not get +the calf at all. I have my rent to pay at twelve o'clock, an' if you +don't gi' me the money now I'll have to sell him to some one that will.' + +"Mickey Flanagan saw that the calf was a good one, so he paid for it at +once, because he was afraid that if he made any delay Maire might sell +to some other jobber. When all was settled says he: + +"'Drive him down an' put him into Kennedy's yard, an' tell the gossoon +to keep an eye to him till I go down myself with a few more.' + +"He forgot with the hurry he was in to mark the calf, an' away he went. +Whatever divilment put it into Maire's head, instead o' bringin' the +calf to Kennedy's yard what did she do only go stravagle it off to the +far end o' the town, an' made Charley go with her an' say nothin'--the +poor man was afraid of his life of her always--an', by the powers, if +she didn't sell the calf again in less than half an hour to a jobber +from the North of Ireland, who sent it off on the eleven o'clock train, +an' paid Maire just the same amount she was after gettin' from Mickey +Flanagan. + +"Maire made away home as fast as she could make Charley step out, +an' she laughin' to herself at the way she done Mickey Flanagan, an' +she was just after puttin' the pan on the fire with a bit o' meat on +it that she brought home, when who comes up to the door but my brave +Mickey himself, an' he in a tearin' temper. + +"'Where's my calf?' he shouted, as soon as he saw Maire in the middle +o' the floor. + +"'What do I know where he is?' answered Maire, just as loud, an' a lot +sharper, 'didn't I sell him to you? Do you think I ought to stay in +the town all day watchin' him for you, an' that poor unfortunate man +there, that was up out of his bed at four o'clock this mornin', nearly +fallin' out of his standin' with the hunger. Do you think I'm a fool, +Mickey Flanagan? I sold you the calf, an' if you can't find him now, +you needn't blame anyone but yourself.' + +"'You're a darin' woman, that's what y'are,' says Mickey, the eyes +nearly jumpin' out of his head with madness, 'an' if you don't tell me +where the calf is, or give me back my money, I'll make you remember +this day as long as you live.' + +"'Faith, if you don't leave that, quick, an' quit your bargin',' cried +Maire, as she caught hold o' the pan on the fire, 'I'll make you +remember it longer than you live, because I'll give you a taste o' what +the Old Boy 'll be givin' you yet for annoyin' an' tryin' to cheat an +honest, decent woman! G'long! you cripplin' old rogue! or I'll scald +the tongue in your head!' + +"An' Mickey had to fly for his life, but he found out, some way or +other, about the sellin' o' the calf a second time, an' what do you +think but he sends a summons to Maire for the Quarter Sessions in +Castletown, chargin' her with defraudin' him out o' the price o' the +calf. + +"Well, here's where Larry Boylan comes in. There wasn't many lawyers +or solicitors in the country places at that time--an' sure, maybe we +were as well off without them--but knowledgeable men used to give +their opinion about points o' the law, an' used to settle disputes an' +the like, an' any o' them that was graspin' or miserly used to charge +somethin' for their advice--a couple o' rolls o' butter, or a sack o' +praties, or maybe a few shillin's. + +"Larry Boylan set up for bein' a knowledgeable man, not because he was +extra wise, but because he wanted to make somethin' out of his poorer +neighbours whenever he could get the chance. + +"To Larry Maire went with the summons, an' asked what 'd be the best +thing for her to do, an' if there was any chance of her beatin' +Flanagan in the law. + +"Larry considered, an' considered, an' pretended to be very wise, an' +looked very solemn, an' asked Maire a lot o' questions that he knew the +answer to long before that, an' at last says he: + +"'Mrs. Lanigan,' says he, 'you're a woman I have a great respect for, +an' your husband is one o' the decintest men in the parish, an' on that +account,' says he, 'I'll bring all my long experience into the case an' +do the best I can for you, an' it isn't for everyone I'd do it, an' it +isn't in every case I'd give the advice I'm goin' to give now. But I +want to say a word first. On account of it bein' a very delicate case, +an' one that everybody is lookin' forward to, an' because my reputation +'ll suffer if it goes against us, I'll have to charge you a fee, an' +that fee 'll have to be a pound. Are you willin' to pay it, ma'am?' +says Larry. + +"'Well, indeed an' I am an' welcome, Mister Boylan,' says Maire, 'I'll +give the pound, an' two pound, if you only mention it, as soon as the +case is over. Make your mind easy on that point, Mister Boylan.' + +"'Well, ma'am,' says Larry, 'the only way you can get the upper hand o' +Mickey Flanagan is by makin' out you're a little bit gone in the head, +an' if you do what I tell you there isn't a judge or a jury or a lawyer +in Ireland can prove that you're responsible for the price o' the calf, +or for anythin' that took place the day o' the fair.' + +"'Musha, more power to you, Mister Boylan,' says Maire. + +"'What I want you to do is this,' says Larry; 'when the court day comes +just let your hair hang down about your face an' shoulders, an' wear +your cloak upside down on you, an' be laughin' an' puttin' out your +tongue at everyone you meet. An' when you go into the court, no matter +who asks you a question, just laugh and put out your tongue, an' say +"Bow-wow" like a dog. Will you do that?' says he. + +"'Indeed, an' I will, Mister Boylan,' says Maire, as thankful as you +please. 'Wait till you see but I'll do it better than you expect. May +God bless you an' prosper you, an' lengthen your days; you're the +clever, knowledgeable man!' + +"An' off she went in the best o' humour, an' she blessin' Larry all the +time. + +"Well, at any rate the Quarter Sessions came at long last, an' there +was hardly a man, woman, or child in the country but was in the town +that day, watchin' an' waitin' for the case against Maire Lanigan, an' +when the time for the case came on the courthouse was packed with +people. Mickey Flanagan had a lawyer down from Dublin, an' everyone was +sure he'd win the case, because Maire had no one at all to speak for +her. + +"When the case was brought on, an' when Maire stepped up to be +examined, you'd think 'twas a circus or somethin' was in the courthouse +with the way the people laughed, an' the old judge himself had to +laugh, too, when he saw the get-up of her. Everyone was laughin' only +Mickey Flanagan an' his lawyer. + +"Maire's old grey, greasy-lookin' hair was all hangin' down about her +face, an' there was little red an' yalla ribbons tied on it here an' +there, like what you'd see on girshas o' ten or twelve; an' her cloak +was turned inside out an' she was wearin' it upside down, with the tail +of it round her shoulders an' the hood streelin' at her heels; an' +there she was, grinnin' an' caperin', an' puttin' out her tongue at +everyone. I never saw anythin' like her in my life, an' I laughed after +the judge commanded silence. I thought he'd tell some one to put me out. + +"The lawyer from Dublin got up to question Maire, an' he fixed his +specs on him, an' frowned an' put on a grand air, an' says he: + +"'Are you the person who sold a calf to this man, my client, Michael +Flanagan?' + +"Maire grinned at him, an' put out her tongue, an' all the answer she +gave him was: + +"'Bow-wow!' + +"You could hear the laughin' o' the people all over the town, but +the judge said in a loud voice--though I think he was laughin' to +himself--that he'd clear out the court if there was any more noise, +an' the lawyer put a blacker frown on him, an' says he: + +"'Remember, madam,' says he, 'that you're in her Majesty's Court o' +Justice, an' give me a straightforward, honest answer, or learn the +consequences. Did you, or did you not, sell a calf to this man?' + +"'Bow-wow,' says Maire again, an' she puttin' out her tongue at him, +an' you'd think she didn't know a word he was sayin'. Everyone laughed +again, except Mickey an' his lawyer, an' the judge gave a pull to his +wig an' snuffled, an' says he: + +"'This woman is a fool! Put her down,' says he; 'I dismiss the case. +It's only makin' a humbug o' the court.' + +"'She has it,' says Larry Boylan to my father--God rest him!--an' out +we all went to the street after Maire, an' sure everyone in the whole +place was round her, laughin' an' talkin' an' goin' on. + +"Larry wanted to show himself off as the great man o' the day, an' says +he, goin' over an' shakin' Maire's hand: + +"'You done it the best I ever saw! There's not the beatin' o' you on +Ireland's ground. Have you the pound, Mrs. Lanigan?' says he, in a +lower tone o' voice, but plenty of us heard him all the same. + +"Maire shook his hand, an' Larry was feelin' proud of himself, when she +just looked him straight in the face, an' grinned like a monkey an' put +out her tongue down to her chin, an' says she, at the top of her voice: + +"'Bow-wow, Larry Boylan! Bow-wow!' + +"An' with that she made a run through the crowd, an' away home with +her, an' Charley after her as fast as he could trot, an' the poor man +ashamed of his life. If ever any man got laughed at that man was Larry +Boylan. He couldn't go out anywhere, to fair or market or meetin' for +long an' long after, but every gossoon in the country'd shout 'Bow-wow' +at him till they'd have him ragin'. An' that's what old Maire said to +him to-day, that Andy Murtagh was tellin' us about, an' it's thinkin' +o' the law case made Larry so mad." + +And as Ned M'Grane closed the door of the forge after we had left we +heard him laugh softly to himself. + + + + +HOW JOHNNIE GOT HIS DEGREE + + +The forge in Balnagore was a sort of library of reference to all the +young fellows of the district. No matter what information was sought +for regarding events of importance that had occurred in Ireland during +the past couple of hundred years (we had not much access to books down +there) the one and only thought of the seeker after knowledge was to +repair at once, or as soon as his work was finished, to the smithy in +which Ned M'Grane reigned, and to ask the same Ned a few questions on +the matter which puzzled himself; and Ned, to his credit let me say it, +was never, in my recollection, found wanting on any such occasion. His +mind was a well-stocked storehouse of local and national history, as +well as of humour, which he was ever willing to impart to "the risin' +generation," as he called us. + +He could remember every droll occurrence that had taken place in the +parish for at least forty years, and every stirring event of national +importance that had taken place in the country during the same period, +and along with all this he had, in his young days, set himself the task +of acquiring knowledge of events of an earlier period from the people +who were old when he was a boy, so that when I state that he could +bring us back over the happenings of a couple of hundred years I do not +by any means overstep the mark. He often told us that in his young days +he had a veritable thirst for old stories and for knowledge of every +kind, and he used to make a round of the neighbours' houses night after +night to hear the tales the old people told about the "ould times" and +the "good people," and of the far-off days in an Ireland that was free. +And if the news was conveyed to him that a "poor scholar" was staying +at any farmer's house within a radius of seven miles, he used tramp +across the country to hear the learned man talk about his travels, and +to hear him read out of the books which he carried with him on his +journeys. + +"From all the goin' about I used to have, an' the way I used to be +askin' questions o' the old people, an' the way I used to have the wits +worried out o' Master Sweeney o' Kilfane," said Ned to us more than +once, "what do you think but some o' the playboys put the nick-name o' +'the poor scholar' on myself, an' every one o' the youngsters used to +be jibin' at me about it. I didn't care tuppence as long as I was a +gossoon, but it was stickin' so tight to me an' I growin' up a big lad +that I gave over my stravagin' a good bit, an' they forgot it after a +while. I didn't mind at that time, because the old people were gettin' +feeble an' bothered, an' a lot of them dyin' away, too, an' them that +came after them didn't care a wisp o' straw for the stories or anythin' +only cattle, an' money, an' land. An' signs on it, they're all old men +an' women at fifty, with their worryin' over grass land and con-acres, +an' calves, an' things you'd think they could bring to the grave with +them. God be with the old times! when the people knew somethin' about +Ireland, an' had life an' spirit in them, an' weren't always breakin' +their necks runnin' after the world, an' never catchin' up with it, +like them we see round us every day. Aye! God be with the old times, +when it's not backbitin' each other they'd be round the fire at night, +or makin' up law cases against each other. I wish it was the old times +again!" + +I reproduce the above speech of Ned's, which was delivered partly to +us and partly to himself many a time when the retrospective mood held +possession of him--I reproduce it, I say, to show that Ned M'Grane's +outlook on life was neither narrow nor sordid, but that there was in +his mind and heart a great deal of the old-world philosophy of life, +viz., that it was better to be rich intellectually than materially; +that was Ned's firm opinion and belief, and he was never done +impressing upon us the foolishness of seeking after wealth and worldly +emoluments, and of neglecting at the same time to enrich and beautify +the mind with the lore of the years gone by. Whether he was right or +wrong I leave to my readers to decide. + +There were in the forge, now and then, what I may call "impromptu" +evenings--that is, there were times when Ned, reminded of past episodes +through hearing some name casually mentioned in our conversation, +drew at random from his well-filled storehouse of stories one of +the delightfully droll occurrences which he himself remembered to +have happened in the neighbourhood long years before, and told it +to us while he worked, without calling upon any of the aids, such +as a well-filled pipe and a comfortable seat, which he called into +requisition when relating one of the longer tales to which he treated +us now and then. On such occasions, too, he often gave out riddles to +us that set our brains hard at work, and sang for us some of the fine +songs he had learned from the old people and from the "poor scholars" +in the happy evenings of the past, which he designated the "old times." + +I remember one of those impromptu evenings in particular, because I +thought, and think so still, that the story he told us about Johnnie +Finnegan's "Degree" was as good as I had ever heard. He had just +finished singing a favourite song of ours about a young Wexfordman who +escaped from the Yeos in '98, and we were bestowing upon him our hearty +praise and applause, when an old grumpy farmer from Knockbride, called +Johnnie Finnegan, but who was best known by the nick-name of "Johnnie +the Doctor," came to the forge door and asked Ned to tighten one of +the hind shoes on his mare, as he was afraid 'twould fall off before +he should reach home. Ned performed the task, and when he returned to +the work which he had in hand before Johnnie appeared upon the scene, +some of us asked him the reason why "Johnnie the Doctor" was the name +everybody had for Johnnie Finnegan. + +"Did I never tell you how Johnnie got his degree?" asked Ned, with a +merry twinkle in his eye. + +"No, you never told us that, Ned; but now's the time for it," a couple +of us answered, and the eager faces of the others signified their +whole-hearted approval of our suggestion. + +"Troth, you'll hear it, boys, an' welcome," said Ned, as he went on +with his work. "An' it doesn't take long in the tellin', though if I +told it to you while Johnnie was here you'd see him in a flarin' fine +temper an' the dickens a nail I'd ever get the chance o' drivin' in +a shoe, or a sock I'd put on a plough for Johnnie again, because you +might as well roll him in a heap o' nettles an' his clothes tore, as +mention 'Johnnie the Doctor' an' he listenin'. + +"The way it was is this. Old Jimmy Finnegan, his father, was as poor as +a rat in an empty barn, an' so were all his people before him, but one +day--Johnnie was the only child, an' he was no more than nine years old +at the time--up comes a postman from Castletown to Jimmy Finnegan's and +hands in a letter, an' when they got Master Sweeney up to read it, they +found out that it was from a lawyer in America to say that a brother +o' Jimmy's--Phil Finnegan--was after dyin'--a rich man--in Boston, an' +that he left all his money to Jimmy, an' the letter went on to say +that after the cost o' settlin' up the will 'd be took out of it, the +legacy'd amount to somethin' like four thousand pounds. + +"They could hardly believe the story was true, because they were nearly +on the road for rent, but sure enough a cheque came to Jimmy for that +whole four thousand pounds in a couple o' months after that. Well, +you never saw anythin' in your life like the way Jimmy and the wife +made fools o' themselves. They began to try to talk grand, an' dressed +themselves up like gentry, an' bought a car like Father Fagan's, an' +wouldn't talk to the people that knew them all their lives, an' that +often gave them a helpin' hand when they wanted it an' they in debt. + +"Everyone, of course, was laughin' at them, an' some o' the playboys +used to salute Jimmy for fun when they'd meet him on the road, an' +Jimmy used to think they were in earnest, an' he used to put up his +hand to his hat, the same as Father Fagan 'd do, an' the lads puttin' +out their tongues at him behind his back. He wouldn't let Johnnie go to +school the same as other gossoons, but paid Master Sweeney ten pound a +year to come up an' teach him at the house, an' sure if the Master--God +rest him--was alive still an' goin' up to teach Johnnie every day +since, he wouldn't be a bit better nor he was when the poor Master gave +him up in despair; because Johnnie was as thick as the post of a gate, +every day ever, an' he's that yet. + +"Well what do you think but when Johnnie was a big, soft lump of a lad +of seventeen or eighteen, didn't Jimmy bring him over to old Doctor +Dempsey that lived beyond near the chapel o' Kilfane, an' asked him to +make a doctor o' the bucko, an' offered the doctor a fee o' so much a +year while Johnnie 'd be learnin' the trade. Doctor Dempsey knew be +the look o' the lad that he'd never be a doctor as long as there was a +bill on a crow, but he was hard up for money at the time, an' didn't +he take Johnnie; an' old Jimmy went home as proud as a peacock an' he +boastin' an' blowin' out of him to everybody that the next doctor for +the district 'd be no other than 'Doctor John Finnegan.' He used to +drive over on the car every mornin' to Doctor Dempsey's an' call for +him again in the evenin', an' he havin' him dressed up like a young +lord or somethin'. An' sure the whole country was laughin' at them more +than ever. + +"Johnnie was with Doctor Dempsey for a few years, anyway, an' sure he +knew as much then as he did the first day; the doctor used to bring +him about the country with him on some of his visits, to give him +experience, he used to tell Jimmy, but I think 'twas mostly for holdin' +the horse he had him. + +"One day they went to see a rich old lady that lived beyond in +Moylough, an' when Doctor Dempsey was after lookin' at her tongue for +awhile, an' feelin' her pulse, says he: + +"'You ate oranges, ma'am,' says he. + +"'I did then, sure enough, doctor,' says she. + +"'Well, don't eat them again,' says he, 'an' you'll be in the best o' +health.' + +"Johnnie was listenin', an' his mouth opened wide with wonder, an' when +they were comin' home says he to Doctor Dempsey: + +"'How did you know, sir,' says he, 'that Miss Hamilton was after eatin' +oranges?' + +"'Oh, 'twas easy enough to know that, John,' says the doctor to him, +'because,' says he, 'when I was feelin' her pulse I looked under the +bed, an' I saw the heap o' skins.' + +"Johnnie kep' wonderin' all the way home at the cleverness o' the +doctor, an' wonderin', too, if he'd ever get a case all to himself, +so that he could show his father an' mother an' the whole country how +clever he was. + +"Well, anyway, in a couple o' weeks after that a gossoon came up to +Doctor Dempsey's one mornin' to tell him that old Peadar Mullen o' +the Bog was bad with the pains, an' wanted him to call over an' see +him. Peadar used to get pains about every fortnight, an' he was on the +point o' dyin' with them--accordin' to his own opinion--about twenty +times, an' he had the poor old doctor plagued sendin' for him every +other week. Doctor Dempsey was a big-hearted sort of a man that was +never hard on the poor, an' Peadar was that cranky an' conceited that +he thought the doctor ought to be always runnin' over to see him, no +matter about anyone else in the district. That was the sort o' Peadar. + +"The doctor wasn't on for goin' near him this day, anyway, an' what do +you think but he sends Johnnie, an' never said a word to him about what +complaint Peadar had or anythin' only left him to find out for himself. +Johnnie starts off an' the doctor's boy along with him on the car, an' +it's him that was proud to think that he had a case all to himself at +last, an' that he could be boastin' about it to his father an' mother +that evenin' when he'd go home. + +"They went down the old boreen to Peadar's house--'twas a long way in +in the bog by itself, an' not a soul he had livin' with him--an' when +they got over to it, Johnnie left the servant boy mindin' the horse, +an' in he goes, an' sure dickens a much he could see with all the smoke +that was in the house. Old Peadar was lyin' in bed in the room, an' he +groanin' an' moanin' as hard as he could when he heard the doctor's car +comin', because Doctor Dempsey used to give him a couple o' shillin's +now an' again. + +"'Doctor Dempsey can't come to-day, my good man,' says Johnnie, when he +went into the room, an' he lookin' very grand an' severe an' solemn. +'He's not extra well, an' he sent me in his place to see what's the +matter with you.' + +"'Musha, may God bless your honour for comin', Doctor Finnegan,' says +Peadar, thinkin' he'd knock a few shillin's out o' Johnnie, 'an' sure +maybe he sent a gentleman every bit as good as himself.' + +"Johnnie didn't know what to do, but he asked Peadar to put out his +tongue, an' then he felt his pulse, an' all the time he was tryin' to +get a peep under the bed, the same as he saw the doctor doin' with +the lady that was after eatin' the oranges. At long last he spied +the straddle an' winkers belongin' to old Peadar's ass, an' says he, +shakin' his head an' lookin' at Peadar as much as to say, 'You're done +for': + +"'My good man,' says he, 'my good man, you ate an ass!' + +"'What's that you're after sayin'?' says Peadar, lettin' a shout out +o' him, an' he jumpin' up out o' the bed. 'What's that you're after +sayin'?' + +"'You--ate--an--ass,' says Johnnie, again, an' he shakin', when he saw +the way Peadar made a grab at the big crookey stick that was lyin' +across the bed. + +"'G'long! you upstartin' imp o' the divil,' says Peadar, with a roar, +an' he jumpin' out o' the bed. 'Is it a son o' Shameen Finnegan's to +come into my own house an' tell me I'm a cannaball? I'll soon give you +a chance o' curin' yourself instead o' comin' in to make a fool o' +me an' I lyin' helpless on my bed with the pains! There's a doctor's +degree for you!' an' old Peadar drew a whack o' the stick at Johnnie +that made him roar an' run for the door as fast as his legs 'd carry +him. + +"Out went Peadar after him an' not a fligget on him only his shirt an' +breeches, an' across the bog with them as hard as they could run until +Johnnie tripped an' fell, an' old Peadar on top of him, into a dry +drain. Peadar began flailin' him, an' with every thump o' the stick +he'd give to poor Johnnie he'd shout, 'There's a doctor's degree for +you! There's a doctor's degree for you!' an' only for Doctor Dempsey's +boy tied the horse to a bush an' came runnin' over, it's Johnnie that +'d be bad with the pains, an' not Peadar. + +"He was bad enough, in troth, when they brought him home, an' he didn't +stir out o' the house for three months, but everyone said 'twas shame +was on him more than the pains after Peadar's stick. That was the end +of his doctorin' anyway; he never went back to Doctor Dempsey, an' the +flailin' he got in the bog knocked a lot o' the nonsense out o' him +an' put sense in its place, because he gave up the foolish ways, an' +settled down to workin' and lookin' after the bit o' land old Jimmy +was after buyin'. But from that day to this if you wanted to set him +tearin' mad all you'd have to say is 'doctor,' and he'd roar like a +ragin' bull. + +"An' that's the way Johnnie Finnegan got his 'doctor's degree' from +Peadar Mullen o' the Bog." + + + + +THE BEST OF A BARGAIN + + +'Twas the evening of the Christmas Fair of Castletown, and the forge +in Balnagore was almost full of men and boys. A fine, frosty night it +promised to be, and the roads getting every moment more slippery, some +of the men who had made long journeys were waiting for their turn to +get their horses' shoes sharpened, as a precaution against accidents. +The majority, though, of those who stood or sat around the fire, where +Ned M'Grane was working at his best, were the young fellows of the +neighbourhood, who, as usual, had dropped in to smoke or chat, and +mayhap, if their lucky star happened to be in the ascendant, to hear +one of his entertaining stories from Ned o' the Forge. + +Well, one by one those who had far to travel were attended to and took +their departure and then, with a big sigh of relief, Ned threw down the +hammer, drew on his coat and took his pipe from his pocket. + +"What sort was the fair, boys?" he asked, when the first wreath of +smoke from his pipe had ascended towards the ceiling. + +"'Twas good, Ned," answered Joe Clinton; "but, indeed, everybody was +sayin' on the way home that Castletown Christmas Fair is nothin' now to +what it used to be." + +"I remember the time," said Ned, "when the whole town, from where the +new Post Office is now to the railway gates, used to be so full o' +people an' cattle an' trick-o'-the-loops an' everythin', that you'd +have to fight your way through them." + +"I heard my father sayin' to James Clancy an' we waitin' to be paid by +the jobber," said Bartle Nolan, "that bacon isn't as dear now as the +day Jimmy the Thrick doubled the grain of oats on the Belfast jobber, +an' they were laughin' over it. What was that about, Ned?" + +We became as mute as mice after this last question of Bartle's, and +Ned M'Grane was silent also for a moment or two. Then when we saw him +folding his arms and leaning back against the bellows we knew that a +story was coming, and that Bartle had played a trump card. + +"It's many's the trick Jimmy played in his day," said Ned, with a +smile, "but the doublin' o' the grain of oats was one of his best, an' +one that brought him a bit o' money, too. The way it happened was this: + +"It was a plan o' Jimmy's sometimes at fairs an' markets to let on +that he was a bit of an amadán, an' he'd talk so simple an' queer an' +foolish that strange jobbers that didn't know him or his ways used to +take great delight in talkin' to him, an' havin' a laugh at him, an' in +the heel o' the hunt Jimmy used to knock out the best penny in the fair +for whatever he'd be sellin'. But he was caught nappin' one day, an' in +revenge for that he doubled the grain of oats. + +"He was at the Christmas Fair o' Castletown (it's well over twenty year +ago now) tryin' to sell two pigs--a white one an' a black one--an', +of course, as usual, he was playin' the fool an' crackin' jokes with +every jobber that came the way, an' seemed in no hurry to sell the pigs +at all. At last up comes a quiet, tidy bit of a man, an' says he, nice +an' easy, an' seemin' to care little whether he got an answer or not: + +"'What do you want for the white pig there along with the black one?' +says he. + +"'Troth then, the sorra much, sir,' says Jimmy; 'all I'm askin' is +three pound.' + +"'All right, you can have that,' says the jobber, as quick as you +please, an' he pullin' out his knife, an before Jimmy had time to say a +word the two pigs were marked as plain as if there was a label on them. + +"'Take your time there, my good man,' says Jimmy, throwin' off his +fool's face, when he saw the jobber walkin' away, 'take your time +there,' says he, 'you're only after buyin' the white pig.' + +"'Oh, I beg your pardon,' says the jobber, mighty polite, 'I'm after +buyin' the white pig _along with the black one_ for three pounds. A +bargain is a bargain. Am I right or wrong?' says he to Bartle Nolan's +father an' a few more o' the neighbours that were listenin' to the +whole thing. + +"There wasn't a man among them could deny that he was after buyin' the +two pigs, an' they told Jimmy that he might as well give in at once, +that the bargain was made, an' that the law 'd be again him if he +brought the jobber into court. So my brave Jimmy had to leave his two +darlin' pigs go for next to nothin', an' see himself made a fool of in +real earnest, but he swore that if it was to be in twenty years he'd +have revenge on the boyo from Belfast. + +"Well, a year went by and the big Christmas Fair came round again, +an' Jimmy had two fine pigs to sell, the same as usual, for he was a +great man for the pigs. He was about an hour in the fair when who does +he see comin' towards him but the same Belfast jobber that diddled +him the year before. Jimmy never pretended he knew him at all, an' +began leerin' an' lookin' more like a fool than he looked that day +twelvemonths. The jobber let on he didn't know Jimmy either, an', says +he, very nice an' quiet: + +"'What do you want for the pigs, my good man?' + +"'Och, the sorra much then, sir,' says Jimmy, an' the amadán's laugh +with him. 'All I ask is one grain of oats, only the doublin' of it to +be left to myself for half an hour.' + +"The jobber laughed, an' winked at the men standin' round; an' says he, +'I'll take them at the price, an' maybe I'd give you a pound or two for +yourself as well, because you're a decent-lookin' man. The sorra much +doublin' you can do on a grain of oats in half an hour,' says he. + +"'Maybe not, maybe not,' says Jimmy, an' a twinkle in his eye; 'but +we'll see,' says he. + +"'Bring them to the railway station,' says the jobber, an' he markin' +the pigs, 'an' I'll pay you along with the rest at one o'clock.' An' +off he went, chucklin' an' laughin' to himself. + +"Well, there was a big crowd waitin' in a shed in the railway yard to +be paid at one o'clock, an' my brave Jimmy was there, movin' about +among the neighbours, tellin' them he was goin' to have his revenge on +the Belfast jobber, an' they to be all near by to hear an' see the fun. + +"The jobber came at last an' emptied out a big pile o' notes an' gold +an' silver on to his white overcoat, an' himself an' his partner began +payin' away as fast as they could hand out the money. Jimmy was kept +till the last, but the neighbours all waited because they knew that my +boyo was up to some mischief or other. Anyway, when all was paid that +was due the jobber turned round an' called over Jimmy, an' says he: + +"'Here's a man that sold me two fine pigs to-day for a grain o' corn, +an' all he asked was that he might be let double it for half-an-hour, +an' that that 'd be the price o' the pigs. Start now, my good man, an' +double your grain of oats, because the train 'll be goin' in forty +minutes, an' there's no time to lose.' + +"The people crowded in closer an' cocked their ears. Jimmy walked in +quietly in front o' them an' faced the jobber. There was no sign o' the +amadán on him by this time, but there was a bit of a smile comin' an' +goin' round his mouth, an' a sparkle in his eye. + +"'A grain an' a grain,' says he, 'that's two grains, four grains, eight +grains, sixteen grains, thirty-two grains--that's a pinch. A pinch +an' a pinch, that's two pinches, four pinches, eight pinches, sixteen +pinches, thirty-two pinches--that's a fistful.' + +"'A fine price for two pigs,' says the jobber. An' the people round +about began to laugh, but Jimmy never let on he heard them, and off he +started again: + +"'A fistful an' a fistful, that's two fistfuls, four fistfuls, eight +fistfuls, sixteen fistfuls, thirty-two fistfuls--that's a sheaf. A +sheaf an' a sheaf, that's two sheaves, four sheaves, eight sheaves, +sixteen sheaves, thirty-two sheaves--that's a stook.' + +"'A fine big one 'twould be,' says the jobber, 'bigger nor ever I saw +in a cornfield.' And he began to laugh an' to jingle money in his +pocket. Jimmy made him no answer. + +"'A stook an' a stook,' says he, 'that's two stooks, four stooks, eight +stooks, sixteen stooks, thirty-two stooks--that's a stack.' + +"Faith, the neighbours began to give up grinnin' at Jimmy, an' they +gathered in closer to him, an' nodded their heads at one another, but +the sorra word they had to say; an' the smile was fadin' out o' the +jobber's face. Jimmy kept on countin': + +"'A stack an' a stack, that's two stacks, four stacks, eight stacks, +sixteen stacks, thirty-two stacks--that's a haggard.' + +"The jobber began to look uneasy, but Jimmy saw nothin' or nobody. + +"'A haggard an' a haggard,' says he, 'that's two haggards, four +haggards, eight haggards, sixteen haggards--that's a townland.' + +"You could hear the people breathin', an' the jobber was gettin' pale, +but Jimmy kept on: + +"'A townland an' a townland, that's two townlands, four townlands, +eight townlands, sixteen townlands, thirty-two townlands--that's a +barony.' + +"'A barony----' + +"'Eh! hold on, my good man,' says the jobber, 'I'm afraid I'll be late +for my train. I was only jokin'. I'll give you five pound apiece for +the pigs.' + +"'The time isn't half up yet,' says Jimmy, 'stay where you are,' an' on +he went. + +"'A barony an' a barony, that's two baronies, four baronies, eight +baronies, sixteen baronies, thirty-two baronies--that's a county.' + +"'Listen here!' says the jobber; but Jimmy wouldn't listen. + +"'A county an' a county, that's two counties, four counties, eight +counties, sixteen counties, thirty-two counties--_that's Ireland!_' +says Jimmy, with a shout, an' he gave the jobber a slap on the back +that made him jump. + +"'You owe me all the oats in Ireland, my fine clever fellow, an' not +more than half the time's up yet. If I kep' on countin' it's the oats +o' the whole world you'd have to be givin' me at the end of half an +hour. You met a fool last year, but he isn't at all, at all as soft as +he looks. When are you goin' to pay me?' + +"The poor jobber was shakin' an' shiverin' like a man in a fit. He was +afraid, I think, that the neighbours 'd back up Jimmy, an' give him a +taste o' their sticks if he failed to pay. + +"'Oh, sir!' says he, 'don't be too hard on me. Sure I haven't the price +of one haggard let alone all the haggards in Ireland. There's all I +have in the world--fifty pound--an' you can have it an' welcome for +your two pigs.' + +"'Well,' says Jimmy, 'as it's Christmas times an' I'm a soft-hearted +man, I'll let you off easier than you deserve. Give me a twenty pound +note, an' I'll forget that you owe me the rest!' + +"The jobber was glad to get off so cheap, an' from that day to this he +was never seen at the fair o' Castletown. + +"An' that's how Jimmy the Thrick doubled the grain of oats." + + + + +WHEN DENIS TURNED TO THE TAY + +_Adapted from the Irish of "An Seabhac" in "An Baile Seo 'Gainn-ne."_ + + +"Bad cess to it for tay," said Ned M'Grane, as he came into the forge, +wiping his lips after his evening meal, in which the much-abused +beverage in question had been, and always was, a potent factor. "The +people were healthier an' hardier, an' the country was better off when +the good wholesome food was goin' an' there was little talk o' tay. Now +we can't do without it for more than half-a-day, bad cess to it!" + +He took a piece of tobacco from his capacious vest pocket and proceeded +to fill his pipe, while we eagerly and anxiously scanned his face in +the hope of reading there indications that would lead us to expect a +story, for we always knew by a close but seemingly careless scrutiny of +Ned's face whether we might venture to suggest his drawing upon that +wonderful store of yarns for the possession of which he was famous +throughout the length and breadth of the three parishes. + +"I wonder how was it people took to the tay at all at first," said +Bartle Nolan, carelessly, as he fingered a couple of horse-shoe nails +and looked thoughtfully away into the shadows; "you'd think they were +wise enough in them times to know what was good for them." + +It was a fine bait, that innocent remark of Bartle's, and we waited +with drawn breath to see what its result would be on Ned. + +"Well," said the latter, as he teased the tobacco between his fingers, +while a far-away look that was hopeful came over his face and into his +eyes, "there was many a reason, Bartle. The praties began to get bad, +an' bad seasons left the meal for the stirabout sour an' heavy an' +ugly, an' then people goin' to Dublin an' places like that began to get +notions, an' the women began to think they weren't able for the strong +food an' that tay would put more heart in them. But maybe the men, or +most o' them, were like Denis M'Cann--God be good to him!--an' took the +tay because they couldn't stand the other thing any longer." + +"Is it Denis o' the Hill that died last year?" said Joe Clinton, his +voice trembling with eagerness, and before Bartle Nolan could give us a +warning sign four or five of us had blurted out: + +"What about Denis, Ned?" + +"The very man," said Ned, in reply to Joe's question, and apparently +paying no attention to us. "It wasn't any wonder poor Denis took to the +tay after all the heart-scald he got from the stirabout--not a wonder +in the world." + +We sat silent, hardly daring to breathe. + +"When I was a gossoon about the size o' Jimmy Tully there, in all the +three parishes there wasn't a harder-workin' family than the M'Canns, +an' the best woman in the barony was Peg M'Cann herself. She was a +good wife to Denis an' a good mother to Patsy an' Molly an' Nell, an' +she never stopped workin' from daylight till dark; but there was one +thing Denis was always grumblin' about, an' that was the stirabout. +Poor Peg, no matter how many warnin's or threats or reminders she got, +could never think o' puttin' salt on the stirabout, an' on that account +there never came a mornin' or a night--except once in a blue moon now +an' again when Peg 'd think o' the salt--that there wasn't a shindy in +the house over the same thing, an' no amount o' jawin' an' ragin' an' +warnin' from Denis could make poor Peg think o' puttin' salt in the +pot every time she started to make the stirabout. An' whenever a thing +wasn't to anybody's likin' from one end o' the parish to the other end +the word was 'That's like Denis McCann's stirabout.' + +"Well, everythin' comes to an end some day or other, an' Peg M'Cann's +stirabout pot got a rest at last. An' this is the way it happened out. + +"One day Denis an' Patsy an' the girshas were out in the long field +plantin' praties, an' when it was comin' on to the evenin' time Peg +took the stirabout pot an' scoured it an' wiped it an' put it on the +fire with water enough in it to make the stirabout. When the water came +to the boil she put in the meal, an' then for a wonder, whatever struck +into her head, she put a good handful o' salt in the pot, an' says she +to herself: 'He can't be sayin' anythin' about it to-night,' says she. + +"The stirabout was simmerin' an' singin' away when Denis an' the +childre came home, an' when Peg saw them comin' up the boreen she went +out to the byre to milk the cow, an' she was smilin' to herself at the +surprise Denis 'd get, an' the quietness there 'd be in the house on +account o' the salt bein' in the stirabout. + +"Denis left Patsy an' the girshas to take the harness off the jennet +an' put up the spades an' shovels an' things, an' he went into the +house himself with a couple o' stone o' the seed that was left over +after the day's work. He spied the pot on the fire, an' over he went to +the salt-box an' took up a good big fistful o' the salt an' put it in +the stirabout, an' gave it a stir or two, an' says he an' he lickin' +his lips: + +"'It'll be right to-night, anyway,' says he, an' down he goes to shut +the gate at the end o' the boreen. + +"In a few minutes in comes Molly an' goes over to the fire to warm her +hands, an' the sound o' the stirabout in the pot reminded her o' the +ructions there used to be every night, an' 'I'm sure she didn't think +of it to-night, no more than any other night,' says Molly, an' up she +jumps an' rams her hand into the salt-box an' takes out a big fistful +an' puts it in the pot an' gives it a couple o' stirs an' goes out to +see what was keepin' her mother. + +"Denis wanted the lantern to look after the young lambs, and Patsy went +into the house to get it for him. The smell o' the stirabout brought +him to the fire, an' the sight o' the pot made him think o' the shindy +every night an' 'For fear o' the worst,' says he an' took as much as he +could lift in his hand of salt an' put it in the pot. Then he gave it a +stir an' darted out with the lantern, for Denis was callin' to him to +hurry. + +"Peg was in the byre, milkin' away at her ease, an' says she to Nell, +when she saw her passin' the door: 'Nell,' says she, 'run in quick an' +stir the pot or the stirabout'll be burned to nothin'. I'll be in in a +minute myself,' says she. + +"Nell went in an' gave a rousin' fine stirrin' to the supper, and she +was just goin' out again to see was Molly ready when she stopped. 'As +sure as I'm alive,' says she, 'my mother never put a grain o' salt in +it,' an' of course when she thought o' that she went to the salt-box +an' done what the rest o' them were after doin' an' says she: 'My +father won't have anythin' to say about it to-night,' an' she lightin' +the candle. + +"Then Peg came in an' put milk in the noggins an' lifted the pot off +the fire an' gave it the last stir, an' Denis came in, an' Patsy an' +Molly, an' they all as hungry as huntsmen, an' each o' them thinkin' o' +the fine, tasty stirabout there was for the supper that night anyway. + +"Denis sat down in his own place in the corner an' spread out his hands +over the fire an' says he: + +"'Give us a noggin o' that, Peg. I'm as hungry as Callaghan's cow when +she ate the hay rope off Tom the Tramp's leg an' he asleep.' An' Peg +filled up the noggin an' handed it over to him. 'That's the stuff for +a hungry man,' says Denis, an' he dug his spoon into the noggin an' +lifted a spoonful out of it that would nearly make a meal for a man +nowadays, an' stuffed it into his mouth, an'---- + +"'Ugh! Ach! O Lord, I'm pisened!' yelled poor Denis springin' to his +feet, an' he tryin' to get rid o' the stirabout, an' as soon as he +could get his tongue into shape for talk he did talk, an' the abuse he +gave poor Peg was terrible. He never said anythin' half as strong in +his life before, an' that's sayin' a lot. + +"'Musha! sorrow's on it for stirabout!' says poor Peg, an' she cryin' +like the rain, 'it has my heart broke in two, so it has. When I don't +put salt on it nobody can eat it, an' this evenin' when I put salt on +it an' thought I had it right, it's worse than ever. Bad cess to it for +stirabout!' An' indeed 'twas no wonder the poor woman 'd cry! + +"'Arrah! don't be botherin' us with your cryin' an' wailin', an' you +after makin' the stirabout like, like;---- An' then Denis thought o' +the fistful o' salt he put in the pot himself an' he stopped. 'As true +as I'm a livin' man,' says he, in his own mind, ''twas myself that made +a lad o' the stirabout. But, sure, one fistful would never pisen it +like that!' But he cooled down an' sat lookin' into the fire. + +"Patsy thought it was himself that ruined the supper an' Molly thought +'twas she that settled it, an' Nell said to herself she was the rascal +that was after doin' it, but they were all afraid to speak, an' they +were so troubled an' knocked about, that they didn't even think of +askin' for anythin' else to eat. Denis was thinkin' an' thinkin' for a +long time, an' he lookin' into the fire an' at last says he: + +"'There's no use in talkin', says he, 'there's some misfortune or bad +luck on this house above every house in the parish. The stirabout is +never the same with us as it is with any o' the neighbours no matter +how it's made. Let us have done with it, once an' for all, an' have +peace an' quietness in the house--what never was in it yet!' + +"An', indeed, Peg was only too glad to hear him talkin' like that, for +the same stirabout had her heart nearly broke. She bought two ounces +o' tay in the shop the next mornin', an' from that day out there never +was a bit o' stirabout made under Denis McCann's roof. An', sure, maybe +that's the way the tay got into many another house as well, though I +suppose if you said so to the women they wouldn't be over thankful to +you. + +"Bad cess to it for tay!" + + + + +A GLORIOUS VICTORY + +_Adapted from the Irish of "An Seabhac" in "An Baile Seo 'Gainn-ne."_ + + +There had been a big week's work in the forge, and Ned M'Grane, the +blacksmith, had got a present of a whole pound of tobacco from his +nephew in Dublin, and on account of these two happenings he was in the +very best of humour, so we decided that the time was ripe for a story. +We hadn't had such a treat from Ned for weeks past, so there was an +edge on our appetite for one of his unrivalled stories that pleasant +evening as we sat and smoked in the smithy. + +"The like of it was never known in history before," said Joe Clinton, +suddenly, with a challenging glance towards Bartle Nolan, who started +as if he didn't expect the statement, and as if it hadn't been +carefully planned beforehand at the Milking Field gate! + +"Ach, nonsense, man!" said Bartle, with a withering look at Joe. "D'ye +mean to say that there ever was an age or a century or a period o' +history that women weren't kickin' up their heels about somethin' or +other an' wantin' to boss the whole show. Why, the thing is out of all +reason!" finished Bartle, with a fine show of indignation. + +"All the same I think Joe is right," said Tom M'Donnell. "I don't +believe they ever carried things as far as to want to have votes an' +seats on public boards, an' to be equal to the men in everythin'. I +don't think anyone ever heard before of a woman goin' that far with the +game." + +"What's that, Tom?" said Ned, who had just thrust about two ounces of +his store of tobacco into old Phil Callaghan's hand in a covert sort of +way, and was now quietly teasing a pipeful for himself. "What is it you +were talkin' about?" + +"O, we were just discoursin', Ned, about them suffragettes an' the row +they're makin' about gettin' votes an' the like o' that. Joe was sayin' +that such a thing as a rumpus about equal rights between man an' woman +was never known of in history before in any country in the world, an' +some of us didn't agree with him. What do you say yourself, Ned?" + +Ned teased the tobacco for a few moments in a dreamy manner that seemed +hopeful, and then he looked thoughtfully at Joe Clinton. + +"Would it surprise you to hear, Joe," he said at last, "that such +a rumpus an' such a row as you speak about took place in this very +townland o' Balnagore?" + +We all laughed at Joe's confusion as he said sheepishly, "It would, +indeed, Ned," and then Ned's eyes twinkled triumphantly. + +Then we knew that we had carried our little scheme to success, and we +waited as patiently and as quietly as we could while Ned filled and +lighted his pipe. At last he spoke: + +"It's forty year ago an' more since it happened, Joe, an' indeed it +wasn't the woman was to blame at all, but the crankiest, contrariest, +crossest old codger of a man that ever sat on a stool, and that was +Dickey Moran that lived there below in the hollow, where Jimmy Kearney +is livin' now. An' if every woman conducted her fight for a vote as +cleverly as Peggy Moran conducted hers for peace an' quietness there 'd +be a lot more respect an' support for them than there is. But what 'd +be the use of advisin' a woman? You might as well be tryin' to catch +eels with a mousetrap. + +"Dickey an' Peggy were only a couple o' years married when she began +to find out that he wasn't altogether as sweet as he used to be, an' +from that time on until she played her trump card she never had an +easy day with him. This wasn't done right, an' that was all wrong, an' +who showed her how to boil a pig's pot, an' where did she learn to +make stirabout, an' forty other growls that nearly put the poor woman +out of her wits. An' what used to annoy her the most of all was that +Dickey (he was fifteen years older than her) never stopped complainin' +about all he had to do in the fields an' on the bog, an' about the +little Peggy had to do in the house--a child buildin' a babby-house 'd +have more to do, he used to say, an' then he'd put a whinin' rigmarole +out of him about the way men had themselves wore to nothin' to keep a +bit an' a sup with lazy women, an' so on, an' so on, until poor Peggy +couldn't stand it any longer, an' she'd turn on him an' say things +that 'd make Dickey twist like an eel an' feel when the shindy 'd be +over that he was after gettin' more than he bargained for, an' a few +rattlin' fine sharp wallops o' Peggy's tongue thrown in for luck. + +"Well, it had to get worse or stop altogether, and the surprisin' part +was that the two things happened at the same time. + +"It happened one mornin' that Dickey was in an odious bad humour +entirely, an' he goin' about the house with a face on him as long as a +late breakfast an' as sharp as a razor, an' every growl out of him like +a dog over a bone or a fox in a trap. He was tryin' to light the fire, +but the turf was too wet, an' the draught was comin' the wrong way, an' +accordin' as his temper got strong his tongue turned on poor Peggy, +who was givin' a bottle to the child in the cradle--it was only seven +months old at the time--an' she was sayin' nothin' at all, but there +was a quare sort of a look in her eye that all as one as said that her +mind was made up. Dickey was gettin' worse an' worse with his growlin' +about all that men had to do an' the lazy ways of women an' what not, +but all of a sudden, when he wasn't mindin', Peggy caught a grip of his +arm in a way that made him jump, an' says she, in the voice of a County +Court Judge givin' sentence, says she: + +"'Let there be an end to this comparin' an' growlin' an' grumblin' once +an' for all, Dickey Moran! You say men are run off their feet an' that +women have nothin' to do. Well, here's the way to settle that. You stay +here in the house an' do what's to be done in it, an' I'll look after +the turf an' the praties an' oats an' things out in the fields, an' +we'll soon see who has the most to do. That's the only way to put an +end to your aggravatin' talk forever an' a day.' + +"An' Dickey bein' in the temper he was in, agreed on the minute, an' +they took their bit o' breakfast without another word, an' when it was +down, Peggy tied her shawl round her shoulders an' gripped hold of an +old reapin' hook that was hangin' on the wall an' started off to cut +the bit of oats in the far field, an' Dickey sat down at the fire to +have a pull o' the pipe before startin' the child's play, as he called +the work that had to be done in the house. + +"When Peggy was gone a couple o' minutes she came back an' put her head +in at the door, an' says she in a quiet an' easy way, as if she was +only biddin' her man good mornin': + +"'Listen here,' says she, 'the cow is in the byre still, an' it's time +she was milked. An' don't forget to take every drop from her or it's +milk fever she'll be havin' one o' these days. An' put a few handfuls +o' poreens on the fire for the pigs an' give them to them soon because +they're screechin' with the hunger. An' keep an eye to that black hen +for fear she'd lay out, because if she does the dickens an egg you'll +get to-morrow mornin'. Scald that churn well an' do the churnin' as +soon as you can, because there's not a bit o' butter in the house an' +this is Friday. An' make a cake o' bread, too, for if you don't there +won't be a pick to eat with the colcannon; an' mind that you don't burn +it. An' spin that pound o' wool over there that I have to make your +socks out of for the winter, an' mind that you don't have it too thick +or lumpy. An' wash up the delph, an' put a drop o' milk on the fire +in that black saucepan for the child, an' give it to him at eleven +o'clock. An' don't make it too hot for him, or you'll hear about it. +An' sweep the floor, an' make the bed, an' get a couple o' cans o' +water from the well, an' peel the praties for the dinner,' says Peggy, +and she out o' breath, an' off she went to the far field. + +"'Troth, then, I'll do that an' more, an' it won't trouble me much,' +says Dickey, with a grunt, an' he fillin' the pipe for a good smoke, +'it's easier than breakin' one's back bendin' over a reapin' hook.' An' +he reddened the pipe an' pulled away at his ease. + +"The first thing he started into was the washin' o' the delph, an' he +got along middlin' well till he caught hold o' Peggy's darlin' cup that +belonged to her mother's aunt's great-grandmother, an' was as precious +to her as gold. There was a crack in it down one side, an' half-way +round the bottom, an' whatever the dickens happened Dickey, his fingers +were too clumsy or somethin', he never felt till he had a piece o' +the cup in each hand, an' there was another bit on the floor. He just +looked at it an' said nothin', but he thought a lot. + +"It couldn't be helped anyway, so he took the gallon can an' out with +him to the byre to milk the cow. You'd think Peggy an' the cow had it +made up between them, with the look that was in her eye when she saw +Dickey comin' with the can, but she stood as quiet as you please an' +chewed the cud, an' seemed to be terrible pleased with the song Dickey +sang while he milked. An' the work was goin' on so grand that he forgot +all about the cup he broke an' was wonderin' to himself was Peggy +repentin' yet, an' was givin' a chuckle or two an' he drawin' the +last drop o' milk into the can, when all of a sudden, without 'by your +leave' or 'here's at you,' the rogue of a cow lifted her right hind leg +an' gave one kick that sent Dickey an' the can o' milk sprawlin' all +over the place. The milk was spilled over him, of course, an' the can +was made a pancake of, an' he had a pain in his chest like lumbago, but +what could he do only curse the cow an' go into the house without can +or milk, an' I may tell you he wasn't chucklin'. + +"Well, the pigs were yellin' like mad lions, an' nearly breakin' down +the sty with the hunger, an' Dickey put the pot on the fire an' boiled +a feed for them as fast as he could. An' when it was ready he went to +the sty with it, but whatever misfortune was on him that mornin', an' +the place bein' purty dark where the pigs were, he bumped his nose +against the sharp corner of a board an' the blood began to come like +as if there was somebody after it, an' Dickey flung the feed, bucket +an' all to the pigs, an' ran into the house an' lay on the broad of +his back tryin' to stop the blood an' it runnin' down his neck an' +everywhere. + +"He got it stopped at last, but he was as weak as a cat, an' then he +thought o' the churnin', an' he started to do it as best he could, +which wasn't much of a best. It's no joke to do a churnin' without help +an' keep a child from cryin' at the same time, an' when Dickey was +finished, I tell you, he didn't feel like runnin' a race or jumpin' +over a stone wall. He was sweatin' like a fat pig at a fair on a +summer's day. + +"Then when the churnin' was finished, he went to the well for a can o' +water, an' he brought the child with him as it was cryin' fit to lift +the roof off the house, an' what do you think but when he was stoopin' +to lift the water didn't he lose his footin' an' fall into the well, +child an' all, an' only it wasn't too deep, Dickey's housekeepin' days +were over. He was all wet anyway, an' the child was wet an' bawlin', +which was no wonder, an' the water was runnin' out o' the two o' them +an' they goin' back to the house. + +"When he got to the door there was a stream o' fresh buttermilk runnin' +out to meet him, an' nice little lumps o' butter floatin' on it, an' +there was the churn upset in the middle o' the floor, an' the black pig +drinkin' away at her ease, an' givin' a grunt o' contentment every now +an' then, as much as to say, 'that's the stuff for puttin' a red neck +on a pig.' + +"For one full minute Dickey didn't know what to do he was that mad an' +wet an' disappointed an' tired all at the one time, but when the minute +was up he threw the wet child--an' it roarin' all the time, the poor +thing--into the cradle, an' grabbed a new spade that was standin' at +the cross-wall, an' made one lunge at the black pig as she darted out +on the door, knowin' well there was trouble comin'. It caught her just +at the back o' the ear, an' with one yell she staggered an' stretched +out on the yard as dead as a door-nail. + +"An' that's the way things were when Peggy came up from the far field +a few minutes later--Dickey nearly dead with fright, an' the child on +the borders of a fit, the churnin' all through the house, the gallon +can all battered up an' not a drop o' new milk to be seen, the fire +out an' no sign of a dinner, the cow in the byre an' she ragin' with +the hunger, one pig dead an' the other rootin' up the winter cabbage in +the garden, an' the whole place like a slaughterhouse or a battlefield, +with milk an' pig's blood an' well-water flowin' in all directions; an' +to crown it all, Dickey sat down in the corner an' began to cry. + +"Well, it was a nice how-d'ye-do sure enough, but Peggy was a sensible +woman, an' she just figured it all out there in a second or two, an' +she said to herself that peace was cheap at the price, an' she knew by +the look o' Dickey that there was goin' to be peace, an' she just held +her tongue, an' set about fixin' up the child an' Dickey an' the place +as best she could. An' then she went for Andy Mahon, the herd over in +Moyvore, an' got him to scrape the pig, an' salt the bacon an' pack +it, an' before night you'd never know that anythin' strange was after +takin' place about the house at all, at all. An' Dickey was as mute as +a mouse. + +"From that day out there was peace an' quietness an' comfort in that +house, an' Dickey Moran was as kind an' cheerful a man as you'd meet in +a day's walk. An' the only thing Peggy regretted was her darlin' cup +that belonged at one time to her mother's aunt's great-grandmother. + +"Boys, O boys, it's eleven o'clock!" + + + + +ON ELECTIONS + + +Ned M'Grane was reading the paper as Denis Monaghan came into the +forge, with a hearty, "God save all here." + +"God save you kindly, Denis," said Ned, "an' keep you from ever +aspirin' to be a candidate at an election." + +"What's your raison for sayin' such a thing as that, Ned?" + +"Well, Denis, I was just turnin' over in me mind all the lies that +does be scattered around an' all the trickery an' deceit an' humbug +that comes into the world durin' election times, an' I was just sayin' +to meself, 'I hope an' pray, Ned M'Grane, that neither you nor any of +your friends or relations or dacint neighbours 'll ever be tempted be +the divil to go up as candidate for election, either as a Poor Law +Guardian, District Councillor, County Councillor, Mimber o' Parliament, +or anythin' else that has to be voted for, because as sure as ever you +do you'll have to turn on the tap o' the keg where every man keeps his +store o' lies in case the truth ever fails him, an' let it flow like +the Falls o' Niagara after a flood.' An' that's the raison, Denis, I +put that tail on to 'God save you kindly,' because I don't want to see +an old friend like yourself ever fallin' as low as that." + +"I don't think there's much fear o' me, Ned." + +"You never can tell, Denis; you never can tell. I seen sensibler men +than Denis Monaghan--because, as you are well aware, you have a streak +o' th' amadán in you, the same as meself--an' you'd think they'd never +set the few brains they had trottin' an' twistin' about election +honours, as they're called, an' then some fine day or another when +th' Ould Boy finds it too hot to be at home an' takes to prowlin' an' +meandrin' about the world he comes along an' shouts in a whisper into +me honest man's brain box that it'd be a grand thing for him to have +his name in the papers an' on big strips o' paper as wide as a quilt on +every old wall an' gate post, an' to be elected as a councillor or a +guardian an' be able to gabble round a table every week an' have people +lookin' up to him an' thinkin' him a great fella, an' expectin' him +to make the country a plot out o' the Garden of Eden, the same as is +promised in every election address, and so me poor man, bein' maybe not +on his guard, an' a bit seedy or sick or somethin' finds th' Ould Boy's +palaver sweeter than the screechin' o' three hungry pigs, an' with his +teeth waterin' he makes up his mind to go forward as a candidate. An' +that's how the whole thing happens, Denis. + +"You know yourself the blathers an' the humbugs dacint men make o' +themselves when they set out on the road to a Council seat or to be +a chip o' the Board o' Guardians or an M.P., or anythin' else that +has to be voted for, an' you know all the lies an' tomfoolery that's +pelted about like clods at such a time. One fella says that he'll cut +the taxes across in the middle, the same as if you got a splash-hook +at them, an' another fella promises to mend all the broken backed +bridges in the barony, an' another is goin' to get a pound a week an' +a two story house an' a farm o' land for every labourin' man that he's +fond of, an' another is goin' to revive th' old ancient language of +Ireland, although he doesn't know a word of it himself, an' another +playboy 'll make it his business to see that every child gets a vote as +soon as he's in short clothes an' weaned off the bottle, an' they go on +romancin' out o' them an' makin' up lies that'd lift the skin off your +head, let alone the hair, if you started to consider an' ponder over +them, and there you have quiet, honest next-door neighbours callin' +each other names an' tryin' to clip th' ears off each other with their +ash poles for sake o' puttin' one or th' other o' the tricks I was +talkin' about at the head o' the list on the day the election is on. +An' when they get in the bridges may mend themselves an' the houses +for the labourers may grow like mushrooms or daisies, an' the fairies +may bring back th' old ancient language an' the women may go about +breakin' the world up into little bits lookin' for votes, but the boyo +that was goin' to do everythin' takes a sudden fit of forgettin' an' +never gets over it until the next election whistles to say it's comin'. +Every time I see an election, Denis, I can't help thinkin' that there's +a terrible lot o' knaves an' goms in the world still, in spite o' the +free libraries an' everythin'. + +"Did I ever tell you about the election that was over in the West--I +think it was in Galway--a few years ago? It showed that there was one +sensible man left in the world. There was a lot o' fellas up for +election an' 'twas goin' to be a close fight, as close as a circus +tumbler's shirt. One boyo hit on a plan of advertisin' himself, so +he got up a big competition, as he called it, an' offered a ham to +be won be the man that could give the best raison why he was to vote +for this candidate above all th' others. Well, there was a terrible +hub-bub an' hullabuloo over it, an' the night came to decide about +the ham, an' every man for five miles around was packed into the town +hall, an' everyone o' them wantin' to get his lie in first, an' the +teeth waterin' with everyone o' them an' they lookin' up at the ham +that was hangin' over the platform. An' when th' examination started +every mother's son o' them had a raison as long as your arm, an' some +o' them wrote down on paper--one fella said it was because he knew the +country 'd be the better of it, an' another because he had a longin' +after truth an' honesty, an' another because his conscience said it +was the right thing to do, and so on, till it came to a little man +that was that tight squeezed against the door at the far end o' the +hall that his tongue was out, an' his face red, an' he twistin' like +an eel in a cleeve. When it came to his turn: 'Well, me friend,' says +the candidate, 'what's your raison for sayin' I ought to be elected?' +'Because I want that ham,' the little man squeaked out of him, an' it's +all he was able to say on account o' bein' jammed so tight. But he got +the ham." + + + + +NED'S TRIP TO DUBLIN + + +"Well, Ned, how d' you feel after your visit to Dublin, an' how did you +like the city?" + +"I feel very thankful that I'm alive at all," said Ned M'Grane, "that's +how I feel; an' I may as well tell you straight out, 'ithout puttin' a +gum in it--because I haven't a tooth--that I didn't like the city at +all, good, bad or indifferent, an' I didn't feel aisy in me mind from +the first minute I set foot in it, until the train whistled leavin' +Amiens Street on the way back." + +"An' how is that, Ned?" + +"It's the quarest place you ever seen in your life, Denis, an' if +you're wise you'll never see it. I can't make out why people are +always trippin' over other runnin' up to Dublin an' half o' them 'd +be better off at home if they 'd only work hard an' keep sober an' +let other people's business alone. What they can see in the city to +get fond of passes my understandin'. You'd want to keep one hand on +your nose nearly all the time an' th' other in the pocket you had the +few shillin's in, because the smell o' cabbage an' fish an' oranges +an' things like that, that's qualified for th' old age pension, 'd +nearly bid you the time o' day it's that strong, an' there's a lot o' +professional pocket cleaners goin' about from mornin' till night, an' +as soon as they get to know you're from the country--I don't know how +they guess at it--they remember all of a sudden that they're sixth +cousin to your mother-in-law's step-uncle, or some other relation that +you never seen or heard about, an' if you open your mouth to spake to +them they'll know your past history from cover to cover in five minutes +an' your business an' all about you, an' if you once make friends with +them the dickens a shillin' you'll have in your pocket when they get a +sudden call to see a man on business outside in the street. Oh, I can +tell you, 'shut your eyes and open your mouth' would not be much use to +a man in Dublin. + +"They don't walk at all up there--it 'd hurt their corns an' wear out +their boots; but they're always runnin' after trams, an' then payin' +money to be let sit in them to draw their breath. I didn't know what +they were at the first time I seen them doin' it. I was walkin' down +from me cousin's house to the chapel one mornin', an' not payin' much +heed to anythin', when a fella darted out of a gate an' nearly knocked +me down with the bump he gave into me. I was just goin' to grab hould +of him or give him a kick when he muttered somethin' about bein' sorry, +an' off he wint like forked lightnin' an' his hat in his hand an' he +wavin' his arms like a tumblin' rake, an' he wasn't three perch runnin' +when a lassie in a hobble skirt started to take buck jumps after him, +like a lad in a sack race, an' then an old fat woman an' a middle-aged +lad with a rheumatic hop joined in the race an' five or six more made +after them as fast as they could leg it, an' they all flingin' their +arms about the same as the first fella. 'Is it for a wager'? says I +to a man that was walkin' in the same direction as meself. 'Is what +for a wager?' says he. 'The race,' says I, pointin' to the crowd that +was runnin'. He began to laugh an' looked at me in a way that said as +plain as could be, 'You're a softy, anyway,' an' says he: 'Oh, they're +only runnin' to catch the tram.' 'An' why wouldn't they wait for this +other one that's comin' up now?' says I. 'They never wait for a tram +in Dublin,' says he; 'they always run after the one that's ahead o' +them, an' then if they can't catch it they spend the rest o' the day +writin' letters to all the papers complainin' o' the rudeness o' the +tram boys that wouldn't wait for them.' An' some o' the same people, +when they were at home in the country two or three year ago wouldn't +think a traneen about walkin' five mile to a football match an' five +back, or trampin' into the town on a fair day or a market day, an' the +dickens a bunion or a corn or a welt on their feet they had that time +no more than there'd be on the leg of a creepy stool or on the spout +of a kettle. I suppose if there were trams down here the women 'd want +to go in them to milk or to cut nettles for the ducks an' the men 'd +be runnin' after them on their way to the bog or to the hay field, an' +they 'd be all writin' letters to the papers if the tram man wouldn't +wait for them till they 'd be after aitin' their dinner or gettin' a +drink o' buttermilk. + +"You won't get a hand's turn done in Dublin 'ithout payin' for it. +If you send a lad for a farthin' box o' matches you must give him a +ha'penny for goin' an' maybe his tay when he comes back, an' if you +haven't any change till the next day he'll charge you interest on +it, an' if you don't pay him he'll make it hot for you the next time +you go out, unless you ask a peeler to go along with you an' give him +half-a-crown for mindin' you. + +"Quare is no name for it. It bates out all that ever came across me, +an' I seen some strange holes an' corners in me day. Why, the town over +there, the biggest fair day ever it seen, or the finest day of a races +'d be no more to Dublin any day in the week than a tin whistle 'd be +to the double-barrelled bugle of a brass band! You'd think that every +man, woman an' child in Dublin took a pledge every mornin' to make +somebody bothered before night with the fair dint o' noise, or die in +the attempt. Such screechin' an' yellin' an' creakin' an' groanin' from +old women an' young childre an' dogs an' cats an' drays an' fowls an' +motors an' trams an' everythin' was never heard this side o' London or +the place beyond it, where Ould Nick keeps his furnace in full blast +night an' day. Why, a whisper in Dublin 'd call a man home from the +bog to his dinner down here, it has to be that loud, an' if you don't +screech for anythin' you want you won't get it at all. I don't wonder +that the half of them up there is hoarse, an' th' other half bothered +in both ears, an' that not one in every hundred has an inch o' win' +to blow out a candle with. I suppose that's why they have the gas an' +electric light an' keep the win' for blowin' them out under tap. I +think if a man in Dublin had to quench six candles every night he'd die +of heart disease in less than a week. + +"The looks o' the peelers that they have for keepin' up the corners o' +the streets in Dublin 'd make you laugh only you wouldn't like to be +seen makin' a fool o' yourself in a crowd. They're for all the world +like packs o' wool tied in the middle, an' whenever they have to run +after a bould gossoon or a mad dog or a flyin' machine or anythin' +like that, you'd see them shakin' like a movin' bog or a dish o' that +flip-flop stuff they do have at weddin's an' dinners an' parties an' +places like that--I think it's jelly they call it. I suppose the poor +fellas never get anythin' to eat an' less to drink, an' the win' comin' +round the corners gets into them an' blows them out like the bladder +of a football. If a man was comin' to after sickness it'd put him to +the pin of his collar to walk round one o' them. I'd like to see them +wheelin' turf on a bog one o' these hot days. You could catch as much +ile as 'd grease your brogues an' the' axle o' th' ass's dray for a +twelve-month. It must take a quare lot o' stuff to make a suit o' +clothes for one o' them. + +"If you seen the houses that some o' the swanks o' lads live in on th' +edge o' the city you'd have nightmares for a week. When one o' them +goes idle there's a notice about it in the papers to catch th' eye o' +some lad that wants to change out o' the place he's in, an' you'd think +by readin' it that it wasn't a house but a mansion that was waitin' +for a tenant. You'll always read in the notices that there's a 'garden +front an' rere,' but you'd want a telescope or somethin' like that to +see the gardens. You could lift the front one on a good wide shovel, +an' a goat couldn't turn round in the big one at the back 'ithout +puttin' her feet up on the wall! An' then if you were to see the size +o' the rooms in the houseen that you'd have to pay the rent of a farm +o' land for. If you were sittin' in the middle o' the kitchen eatin' +a pig's crubeen, an' if you came to a rale grizzly bit that wanted a +good chuck to get it away from the bone, you'd soon get a whack o' the +wall that 'd show you a beautiful movin' picture o' the whole sky on +a starry night. An' it wouldn't do to have a dream about tumblin' the +wild-cat an' you in bed in any o' them rooms, as they call them, or the +same thing 'd happen you, or maybe you'd be out on top o' your head +through the French winda with the Venetian blind and the Manchester +curtains. An' then they call rows o' huts like that Prince o' Wales' +Terrace, or Dreadnought Villa, or Empire Avenue, or somethin' like +that, an' the poor foolish lads that has plenty o' room to walk an' +sit an' sleep down here in the country think they'll never get away +quick enough to Dublin to live in villas or terraces or avenues, and be +swanks, God bless the mark! + +"I could tell you a lot more about Dublin, boys, an' maybe I would, +too, sometime, but you're after hearin' enough to know that it's the +dickens own quare an' comical place out an' out." + + + + +THE LAWYER FOR THE DEFENCE + +_Adapted from the Irish of "An Seabhac" in "An Baile Seo 'Gainn-ne."_ + + +One St. Patrick's Night the Gaels were gathered together in their own +special corner of Heaven (Ned McGrane told us on a certain evening in +the Forge), and were having a glorious time of it. They were there in +tens of thousands--Fionn and the Fianna, Brian Boru, the O'Neills and +O'Donnells and O'Sullivans and MacCarthys, and every other O and Mac +who ever looked upon Ireland as the one and only small nationality that +claimed his heart and hand. + +They were all clustered round a fine-looking, white-haired old man, +who was nearly worn out acknowledging their congratulations and +felicitations and hearty words of cheer and greeting. It was because +of him the diversion had been set on foot, for he was none other than +Padraig, the Patron Saint and Apostle of Ireland, but the poor man +looked as if he hoped it would soon be at an end. For no sooner had he +recovered from the shock given to his nerves by the handshake of some +big, tall chieftain of the North than his limp arm was wrung almost to +wrenching point by a towering Gael from some of the other provinces, +until in the end he didn't know whether he was in Heaven or on the +summit of Cruach Padraig. + +At last, to his great relief, a bout of dancing was arranged for +between Goll MacMorna, one of the famous Fianna of Fionn, and a +celebrated Feis prize-winner, who had only arrived from Ireland a few +days previously. Fifty fiddlers and fifty pipers played for them and it +was a surprise to the new arrival to see that all the musicians were in +perfect agreement, and that all had the same version of the tune. There +was terrific excitement as the dance progressed, and Goll MacMorna, +carried away by the enthusiasm, finished up with such a jump and a +clatter that he broke a piece out of the floor, and sent it hurtling +down among the stars. He nearly went after it himself, and was only +just saved by being gripped in time by the Blacksmith of Limerick, who +was nearest to him at the moment. + +The skelp out of the floor kept falling and falling until it vanished +from sight altogether. And you'll be surprised to hear where it landed. + +Just at that very moment a young son of Belzebub--I forget what the +little devil's name was, but it doesn't matter--was playing with a +heap of recruiting posters down on the floor of--of--the other place, +you know. The nurse was talking to a peeler at the gate and was just +telling him about the latest novelette when the yelling and roaring and +the noise were heard inside. In she dashed and found the young master +flattened out like a pancake on the floor, and a big lump of a rock +resting itself on top of him. Then the row started, and the talk that +went about and the curses that careered around in column formation +would make this book smell of brimstone if I were to set them down. + +"Who threw the stone?" asked Belzebub for the twentieth time, "that's +the question." + +"It was down it came," says a man standing near him. He had no horns +and no hoof, but he was well scorched. + +"How do you know?" says Belzebub. + +"I have a way of knowing all such things," says the man. "As you may +remember, I used to be a Crown witness in Ireland before I came here." + +"This stone," says another man exactly like the last speaker, "this +stone came a long way. It came as far as it could come. It didn't grow +in this country or near it--the heat is too great. I know the sort of +stone it is, because I used to be a Department expert in Ireland long +ago. It grew in no other place than in Heav--I mean where the goo--I +beg your pardon, I mean the--the--the place where people go who don't +come here." + +"It was Peter killed my child!" shouted Belzebub, as he switched his +tail and blew clouds of brimstone smoke from his nostrils. + +"Wait a moment," says another well-scorched man--a sleek-looking fellow +with a rogue's eye and a hangdog appearance, "I know who the culprits +are. I used to be a felon-setter in Ireland before my services were +transferred here, and I ought to know. This is St. Patrick's Night. +The Irish crowd up in the other place are always allowed to hold +demonstrations on this night--a most illegal and seditious gathering +it usually is, too--and it's their unruly conduct that has sent this +missile flying down here. If you get into communication with the +_Freeman_ over the private wire, you'll find----" + +"But it's in Peter's place they are," shouted Belzebub, "and Peter is +responsible for their actions. Will you bear witness to it?" + +"We will, certainly," they all shouted, "but to what?" + +"To the fact that Peter is responsible for my son's death." + +"We're ready to take twenty oaths on it." + +"Is there any lawyer here who is willing to take up the case?" asked +Belzebub. + +"There is!" came the shout from thousands of throats, and every corner +in the place echoed back the roar of it. + +"Count them," said Belzebub to his confidential clerk, who had once +been Chief Secretary in Ireland, and was well up in figures. The clerk +began, but when he had used up all the paper in the place and all the +figures he knew, he came to Belzebub and said there were still ten +divisions and a battalion of lawyers to be counted. + +"Shut your eyes and pick out any one at all," says Belzebub, "they're +all the same. Is there a bailiff here?" + +There came an immense crowd of them. + +"Go," says Belzebub to one fellow, "and serve a writ on Peter." + +The bailiff did as he was ordered, and when the writ reached poor St. +Peter he was perturbed. He brought it to St. Patrick. + +"See the mess you people have landed me in," he said, "the night you +had the ceilidh--your feast night--the piece that your champion dancer +knocked out of the floor fell on Belzebub's son and killed him." The +Gaels weren't the least bit sorry. The only comment was made by Conan +Maol. + +"Pity it wasn't on the father it fell," says he. + +"O dear, O dear," says St. Peter, with a sigh, and off he went to look +for legal advice. + +Everybody noticed that for the next few days he was terribly troubled, +that he was searching for something or somebody, high up and low down, +going here, there and everywhere. + +The court day came. Belzebub and his big staff of lawyers and witnesses +were in attendance, but St. Peter wasn't up to time. + +They waited for him a long time. They were impatient. Then came a +messenger. + +"He'll be here shortly," says the messenger. "He seems to be looking +for something. He has the whole place above nearly turned upside down." + +They waited on and waited on, but there was no sign of St. Peter. The +judge was getting vexed. At last they saw somebody coming, running, +perspiration dropping from him, his face and figure showing signs of +haste and worry. It was St. Peter. He only put his head in at the door. + +"Wait a few minutes longer, if you please," says he to the judge, "I +may be able to do it yet." And away he raced again. + +A half hour passed, then an hour, then two hours, but there was no sign +of St. Peter. A messenger was sent out to watch for him. At long last +the messenger shouted in through the open window: + +"Here he comes!" + +They all looked out and saw him coming. But it was a slow-moving, +dispirited, disappointed-looking St. Peter they saw. You'd think that +everyone belonging to him had just died or that he had heard some +sorrowful tidings. He stopped at the door and looked sadly at the +judge. Everyone was silent. St. Peter spoke. + +"I give it up," says he, shaking his head, "there's no use in going on +with it. I've searched Heaven seven times over, from top to bottom, +from end to end and from side to side, here, there and everywhere, but +in any part or portion of it I couldn't find lawyer of any description +that I might ask to plead my case for me." + +Then he turned on his heel and walked back as he had come. + + + + +THE FIRST PLUM PUDDING + + +It was drawing near Christmas and we were gathered one night in the +Forge, joking and laughing and smoking, and discussing various matters +of no importance with Ned M'Grane, the jovial and kindly blacksmith of +Balnagore. After a time the talk naturally turned on the great festival +that was near at hand, and all the old and new observances that came +with it as sure as sparks came when the smith's sledge hit the heated +steel or iron on the anvil. And Ned, who was in his best form, was +willing to talk in his own humorous fashion about everything connected +with Christmas, from three-foot high candles to penny bugles, and from +plum puddings to holly and ivy. + +"I wonder who invented the sort of a Christmas we have nowadays?" said +Ned, as he lighted his pipe and laid the sledge on the anvil. "I'm +told that in the big towns an' the cities they start buyin' Christmas +presents in the middle o' summer, so as to get them cheap, an' that +some people go near losin' their mind tryin' to think o' what to give +this person an' that an' strivin' to figure out what they're goin' to +get themselves from their friends. Long ago the people thought it good +enough to give an' get a Christmas greetin' at the fair or market or +comin' home from Mass or goin' the road, but now you have to go to the +town or send away to Dublin or London or somewhere for a bit of a card +with a green robin redbreast on it, an' holly berries, an' about five +feet o' snow, an' you must put it in a letter an' stamp it an' post it +to the man or woman that lives next door to you, an' that you'll be +talkin' to five minutes before an' after he gets it. An' he must do the +same thing for you, an' if his card looks cheaper than yours, although +you're after sendin' him a printed verse about good-will an' eternal +friendship an' charity an' peace, you won't stop talkin' about his +meanness for a month o' Sundays. I don't know what Christmas is comin' +to at all." + +"I wonder who thought o' the first plum puddin'," said Joe Clinton, as +he looked meditatively into the big turf fire that Ned kept burning in +a huge open grate for our special benefit. "Whoever he was, he didn't +think he'd sicken so many people before the end o' the world. Some o' +the things they call plum puddin's are a holy terror. An' the fun of it +is that they never put as much as the skin of a plum in one o' them." + +"Well, Joe," answered Ned, "I don't know who took out the plum puddin' +patent first in the world, but I know who was the first who tried to +make one in Balnagore, an' I know what happened to it, an' how often it +was laughed over for many a long day after." And Ned chuckled softly +as he coaxed mighty clouds of blue and white smoke from his veteran +pipe. We saw at once that there was a story behind his remark, for +Ned's brain was a storehouse for yarns, and our hearts thumped with +excitement as we waited breathlessly for Joe Clinton to say the word +that would set Ned's tongue working. + +"Who was that, Ned--I never heard of it," said Joe at last. + +"It was Judy Connell," Ned answered, as he looked away into the shadows +as if his gaze was fixed on a cinematograph picture that had suddenly +appeared on the far wall of the forge, "an' I remember it the same as +if 'twas only yesterday, though it's a good twenty-five years since +it happened. In them times the only sort of a puddin' people had at +Christmas was a bit o' rice an' a few currants in it, an' it was a +bigger luxury than you'd imagine, because it's little o' sweets or +dainties the old people bothered their heads about: an' signs on it +there wasn't a fellow for pullin' teeth an' stuffin' teeth at every +fair an' market, nor bottles by the score in every 'pothacary's shop +window for the cure o' constipation an' twenty other 'ations' an' +'isms' that the people o' them days knew nothin' about. An' sure nearly +every man brought a full set o' teeth to the grave with him an' left +them there to be dug up when some other man was goin' down on top of +him. Nowadays every second man you meet has teeth made out o' melted +lead or somethin' tied on to his gums with wire, an' some people have +plum puddin' for their tay every time a friend or relation comes to +see them, an' they have to keep on the dresser a bottle o' somethin' +or other to shift the plum puddin' out of their stomach the next day. +That's how things has changed in this country since I was a gossoon. + +"But I'm ramblin' away from Judy Connell's plum puddin'. + +"Judy was as plain an' simple a little woman as ever went under a +shawl, an' had no more airs or notions than any of her neighbours, +an' it wasn't conceit or a wish to be better than the next that made +her think o' makin' the puddin'. But the lady she was at service with +before she married Mickey Connell, used to make her a present o' some +little thing every Christmas, an' this year that I'm talkin' about +didn't she take it into her head to send Judy a parcel o' raisins an' +currants an' spices an' candy peel an' all the other queer things they +mix up together, and wrote down all the rules an' regulations for +makin' the things grab on to each other an' turn out a plum puddin'. +Mickey wanted to give the things to the pigs instead o' goin' on with +any foolishness, as he said, but the childre coaxed an' coaxed until +they got the soft side o' the mother, as the like o' them will, an' +she said that on account o' them that sent the things an' the times +that were in it, she'd try her hand, come death or glory, at makin' the +first plum puddin' that ever was smelt in Balnagore. + +"So she read the directions over an' over an' up an' down until she had +them off like a song an' used to be singing them out in her sleep, an' +the childre thinkin' Christmas would never come, an' Mickey prayin' +with the wrong end of his tongue for Judy's old mistress that didn't +send the makin's of a flannel petticoat or somethin' sensible instead +of all that rubbish that was only fit for the pigs' pot; an' mornin', +noon, an' night Judy kept dinnin' into every one o' their ears that +they mustn't talk about it to anybody or she'd be a standin' disgrace +in the parish forever an' a day. An' the childre were only too glad to +promise they wouldn't say anythin' about it, because they were afraid +o' their lives anyone would get a taste o' the puddin' only themselves. +It was five gossoons Judy had an' every one o' them as wild as a hare. + +"Well, Christmas Eve came at last an' Judy was up before the sun +thought of openin' his eyes, an' as soon as the breakfast was over +she started in to make the plum puddin', and she had every one o' the +childre helpin' her an' they grabbin' a raisin or a couple o' currants +every time she turned her back, an', sure, before she had it finished +an' in the big calico cloth she was after buyin' for it she was as +white as a miller from head to foot with flour, an' she sweatin' like +a damp wall, though the weather outside would nearly freeze a furnace. +An' when she had it tied up an' all, she put it in a pot o' boilin' +water over the fire, an' as she an' Mickey had to go into Castletown to +buy the Christmas things, she left word with the lads to keep a good +fire to the pot an' to put water into it now an' again from a kettle +that she had beside the hearth. An' off she went along with Mickey, an' +she thinkin' o' the nice, tasty puddin' she would put up on the table +along with the bit o' Christmas meat the next day. + +"It was all very well until the boyos got hungry, an' the smell from +the puddin' bag began to make their teeth water, an' then they began +to look at the puddin' to see was it near done, an' to take a little +bit out of it here an' another little bit there, an' at last, they had +such a hole in it that one o' them said the water would get into it, +an' that it would be no good, an' he proposed that they put it away in +their insides for safety an' say the dog stole it, or that it boiled +away or somethin'. They all agreed with him, only the second youngest, +Larry, who was the mother's pet, an' he wanted not to stir it until the +mother came home, but the majority carried the day, an' made short work +o' the puddin'. An' I'm afraid Larry lowered a lump of it, too. + +"Judy an' Mickey were in Cassidy's big shop in Castletown, scrooged up +among all their neighbours tryin' to get their few things an' be on the +road home before night, when Judy thought she heard a voice she knew, +an' when she looked round there was my brave Larry at the door an' he +makin' signs like a showman tryin' to get her to look at him. An' as +soon as her eye opened on the door-- + +"'Mother!' says he, in what he thought was a whisper, 'the lads ate the +plum puddin'.' + +"Judy was jammed up in the crowd that filled the shop, an' she couldn't +stir hand or foot, but she began to threaten Larry with her head an' +made all sorts o' faces at him to try an' make him keep his mouth shut +an' not let out the secret, but Larry thought she wasn't believin' him +or didn't hear him, or somethin', so the whisper went up another step +or two: + +"'Mother!' says he again, 'the lads took up the plum puddin' out o' the +pot, an' they're after eatin' every bit of it!' + +"Judy knew that some o' the people near him were after hearin' Larry, +an' she felt herself gettin' weak with shame an' she'd give all the +plum puddin's that were ever made if the gossoon would only keep quiet +or go home. She made more faces at him than ever an' wagged her head +until she knocked off Mickey's hat, but it was all no use. + +"'Mother!' says the lad at the door again, 'they're after eatin' the +plum puddin'--an' if you don't believe me, there's the bag!' + +"Old Corney Macken, that was as contrairy as a cleeve o' cats, was +standin' at the counter with his big Caroline hat on him, an' he +contendin' with Martin Cassidy tryin' to get a bigger Christmas box +than anybody else, when down came the big wet puddin' bag, plastered +over with clammy boiled flour an' the butter Judy put on it to keep +the puddin' from stickin'; an' it just settled over the Caroline an' +over Corney's head an' face an' shoulders the same as one o' them motor +veils the women do be wearin', an' he began runnin' this way an' that +way an' his head goin' up an' down under the bag an' everybody laughin' +the same as if poor old Corney was a clown at a circus. An' poor Judy +got out o' the shop as fast as ever she could an' made away home before +she'd die with shame. + +"Mickey had a little drop in, an' when Corney started to jaw, he let +the cat out o' the puddin' bag, an' the whole parish knew about it +before the stars were up that night. An' there was more hearty laughin' +over Corney's share o' the puddin' than you'd hear now over all the +comic Christmas cards that people spend a little fortune on. + +"An' that's what happened the first plum puddin' that ever was boiled +in Balnagore." + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + +Italics are represented using _underscores_. + +Inconsistent accent marks (e.g. "grâdh" vs. "grádh") have been retained +from the original. + +Inconsistent hyphenation (e.g. "gamekeeper" vs. "game-keeper") has been +retained from the original. + +Adaptation notes following some story titles were formatted as +footnotes in the original text; they have been moved up and italicized +to improve readability. + +Page 66, added missing apostrophe to "An' sure." + +Page 76, added missing open single quote before "A barony an' a barony." + +Page 90, corrected double quote to single quote before "says Dickey, +with a grunt." + +Page 106, corrected single quote to double quote before "says another +well-scorched man." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fun o' the Forge, by Brian O'Higgins + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 56963 *** |