The Bunsby Papers (second series): Irish Echoes. John Brougham

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СКАЧАТЬ many of the small panes patched with articles of used up domestic material, were the only means of ingress, ventilation, and light. Notwithstanding the hopeless-looking poverty of the whole, there were one or two indications which, to an observing mind, would tend to lessen, in a remote degree, its general wretchedness. In the first place, a few small, cracked flower-pots decked the little window-sill, from whence crept upward "morning-glories," and bright "scarlet-runners," the delight of industrious poverty. Then there was that invariable sharer of the poor man's crust and companionship, a useless, and not by any means ornamental, cur, shrewd, snappish, and curiously faithful, in friendly contiguity to a well-conditioned cat. You may take your oath that there's harmony beneath the roof where a cat and dog are amicably domiciliated.

      With the above exception, the cabin's sole occupant, at the present moment, is a woman; but such a woman – it's the cobbler's wife, before-mentioned; here, however, she is in her peculiar sphere. "Home is home, be it ever so homely," is a trite and true aphorism, and poor Peggy, it is evident, does her best to make this unpromising one as full of comfort as she can. Everything is scrupulously clean and in its place. The little wooden dresser is as white as soap and sand can make it. So is the floor, and so are the scanty household goods.

      There is, though, a shade of discomfort on Peggy's pretty face just now, as she laboriously plies her knitting needles, and the small thundercloud breaks out into little flashes of impatience, as she soliloquizes:

      "Did anybody ever see the likes of that Dan of mine? He couldn't take the "tops" over to ould Bulworthy himself – not he! – of course not – he wasn't well enough to go out then, but the minute my back was turned, away he cuts to the 'shebeen' house to get his 'mornin'' – ugh! I do believe if he was before me now, I'd – but no – my poor Dan, it ain't much comfort he's got in the world; so I won't say a blessed word to worry him."

      As if to recompense the considerate thought, Dan's jolly voice was heard, singing one of his consoling ditties.

      "Here he comes, bless him," cried Peg, joyfully, "as lively as a lark."

      There was wonderful commotion amongst the animals as Dan entered. "Pincher," the apocryphal, shook his apology for a tail as vigorously as that diminished appendage was capable of accomplishing; while "Pussy" urged her claims upon his attention by rubbing herself against his legs. Peg said nothing.

      Now, Dan perfectly well knew his delinquency. Indeed, the song he had just executed, in a good, bold voice, had more of "brag" in it than real enthusiasm. He saw how the land lay instantly.

      "Peg, alanna machree, here I am," said he. "Whisht! I know what you're goin' to say. Keep yer mouth shut, you hateful blaggard, or I'll stop it up wid kisses, as close as cobbler's wax. There, Peg," he continued, after having suited the action to the word, with a smack like a carter's whip, "I couldn't help it – I couldn't, upon my word. You were a long time away – and the breakfast was mighty small – and – and – a sort of oneasiness kem over me inside, I was lonesome, and thinkin' of things as wasn't wholesome, so I thought I'd just stick another chalk up at Phil Mooney's, so don't say another word."

      "Not a word Dan," replied Peg. "Sure, don't I mind poor Mary Maguire's case, how she never let Mike rest when he had 'the drop' in him, until at long last he stayed out, for the fear of comin' home; the whisky is too strong for a woman to fight agin, Dan, so, if you like it better than me" —

      That was a skillful side-blow, and it made its mark.

      "Peg, you know better, you thief of the world, you do; you know, in your pure little heart, that's too good for me, or the likes of me; that the summer flowers doesn't love the sunshine of heaven better than I love you; oh! no, it isn't that, not that, Peg aroon."

      "What is it, then?"

      "Well, Peg," he continued, "its the thinks that comes over a poor fella when he hasn't a scurrig to bless himself wid; the thinks that lays a howld of him when there's nobody by but himself and the devil that sends them, thems the times that worries a poor man, Peg."

      "Ah! Dan," replied the other, seriously, "but those times worry a wicked man worse."

      "Well, may-be they do," said the cobbler, doggedly, "if a body knew the truth, but it's bad enough either way. Did the Squire pay for the 'tops?'"

      "Not yet, Dan, he hadn't the change!"

      "Hadn't he, really," replied the other, bitterly. "Poor fella, what a pity; there's a mighty great likeness betune us in that, anyway. The upstart pup, why the divil didn't he get change. There's the differ, Peg, darlin', betune the rale gintleman and the 'musharoon;' a gintleman as feels and knows he's one, and consequentially acts accordin', will always think of the great inconvanience the want of the little bit o' money is to the poor man, and not the small ditto to himself, in the respect of gettin' the change; bad luck attend you, ould Bulworthy, the want of that shillin' has made me break my word in a quarther where I'm mighty loath for to do that same."

      "Where is that, Dan?"

      "I'll tell you, Peg; on the strength of that shillin' I towld my inside that I'd give it a threat, may I never sin, acush, if I didn't promise it a 'sassidge;' now, you know if you tell your hungryness to come at a certain time, it's generally apt to be purty smart at keepin' the appintmint, and, bedad, mine is waitin' for that sassidge; moreover, it ain't threatin' a man's intayrior relations anyway raysonable to go back of yer word. Murdher, there's a twinge – if it isn't hittin' me a punch in the stomach just to put me in mind, I'm a grasshopper. It's no use," he continued, addressing his unsatisfied digestibles, "you may's well give over grumblin' and touchin' me up that way; it's no fault of mine, it's ould Bulworthy's, bad cess to him; he hadn't any change, the dirty spalpeen, you won't take an excuse won't you? then I'll have to fire a pipe at you. Peg, jewil, fill us a dhudeen, won't you; this thievin' hunger won't stir a toe unless I hunt it out wid tibaccy."

      Peggy soon filled the inevitable pipe, and Dan brought his artillery to bear upon the foe, after a severe round of tremendous puffs, during which the combatants were enveloped in the hot smoke of battle; the enemy showed evident signs of beating a temporary retreat. Dan threw himself back in his chair, and prepared, leisurely, to enjoy the fruits of his victory.

      "I wondher," said he, after a few moments of great satisfaction, "I wondher how ould Bulworthy would like to lunch upon smoke? Be jabers, if I had my will, I'd make him eat three males a day of it, until his hard-hearted bowels got tenderer towards the poor."

      "Talk of the what's-his-name," said Peggy. "Here he comes, both him and his fine madame, as proud as ten paycocks; look at the airs of them; I wonder they don't have the street widened when they condescend to walk out."

      "Peggy, darlin'," said Dan, "divil take me if I havn't a great mind to let out at him for my shillin'."

      "Sure you wouldn't; what, in the open street? he'd hang you, Dan, without judge or jury."

      "It ain't quite so easy to hang a man as it used to be in the fine ould times, Peg alanna," said Dan. "It's my shillin', he has no right to keep it jinglin' in his pocket, and he shan't, neither, if I can help it," he continued, going towards the door. "Hit or miss, here goes: Hollo, Squire!" adding, sotto voce, "you murdherin' Turk in top boots; long life to you – you concated ould vagabone."

      These expressions, of which the most polite alone reached his ear, as it may be imagined, grated harshly upon the aristocratic nerves of the prodigious Bulworthy; "What's that fellow making such a magniloquent hulla-balloo about," said he, grandly.

      "Athin, may-be you'd do my drawin'-room the honor of a sit down, yourself, and her ladyship," said Dan, to the dismay of poor Peggy, who exclaimed: "Don't, Dan, don't; I'm ashamed СКАЧАТЬ