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

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СКАЧАТЬ you, indeed, I am;" adding, apologetically, "oh, he never would a done it, only for the drink; we're ruined entirely."

      "Bad 'cess to me if they're not coming, sure enough," said Dan, somewhat tremulously, but determined to put a good bold face on it, he continued, as they entered, "come, Peg, dust the chair for the lady."

      Peg's face was crimson as she complied, she scarcely knew how; Bulworthy's countenance indicated the state of temper with which he accepted the proffered hospitality, while the Squiress gazed coolly and patronizingly around.

      "I'm in a tremendious rage," said he, as he shook his fist at Dan. "How dare you have the premeditated insurance to arrogate us into your pig-sty, you ragamuffin."

      "Don't worrit, my dear," interposed Mrs. Bulworthy, in an authoritative tone. "It's our dooty, now, as ladies and gentlemen, to inquire into the condition of the poor, and give them wholesome advice. Here, my dear," she continued, taking sundry tracts from her capacious pocket, "read these comfortable pages, and see what a state of awful responsibility you are in."

      "Bedad, that's all the poor people is likely to get from such visitors as you," said Dan.

      "And now, sir," said Bulworthy, with an imposing frown, "what interrogational imperence do you want to address to me, that you have the owdaciousness to drag me here?"

      Dan simply took down a broken piece of slate, and holding it up before the Squire's eyes, "a thriflin' account, sir," said he; "for heel-piecin' your honor's honorable tops, and maybe they don't show off an iligant lump of a leg, this fine spring mornin'," vainly hoping that the unmitigated flattery would mitigate the wrath of the potent Squire.

      "And was it for this, you – you illiterate colossus of brass, that you detained me in my preambulations."

      "Indeed, sir," timidly interposed Peggy, "I hope that you'll forgive him. It isn't his fault entirely, your honor. It's all on account of a gintleman that he axed for to take a bit of dinner wid him."

      "What!" screamed Mrs. Bulworthy, with her sanctimonious eyes elevated to the true Pharisaic standard; "I never heard of such wretched depravity. Dinner! do such wretched creatures deal in so miserable an extravagance? I tremble for your lost condition. Read this;" and she fumbled in her pocket for another comforting document, which Peggy courtesied humbly as she received; "read this, and learn to conquer your unworthy appetites for earthly things." The Squiress was a fine example of those theoretic Lady Bountifuls, whose province it is to feed poverty with such like unsatisfactory viands.

      "I'll make you wait for your shillin', you scoundrel," said the irate Squire.

      "And serve him right, too," echoed his worthy spouse.

      "Then we'll have to wait for our dinner," suggested Dan.

      "And what's that to us, you reprobate?"

      "Oh, nothin'," said Dan. "Full stomachs thinks there's no empty ones in the world; but may bad fortune stuff them top-boots chock full of corns, for your hard-heartedness, and may you never pull them on without gettin' a fresh stock."

      "Dear me, dear me," said the squeaking tract-distributer, "read this, and see what comes of such irreligious observations."

      "Read it yourself, ma'am," replied Dan, tossing back the proffered antidote, "maybe you may want it as bad as any of us."

      "You have been iniquitously indulging in intoxicating beverages, sir," said Bulworthy.

      "A drunkard!" exclaimed his helpmate. "I have a blessed tract or two peculiarly adapted to that abominable crime."

      "Oh! no, no, not a drunkard," cried Peggy, snatching the tract from the hand of her visitor; "not a drunkard. The cares of poverty force him to try and forget them, and himself now and then, but that's all."

      "All! that all! Oh, for the sinfulness that surrounds us," replied the other.

      "Have you been drinking, sir?" demanded the Squire, in a justice-of-peace tone.

      "What right have you to ax?" said Dan, boldly. "You owe me a shillin'; that's all I want."

      "He has a right, depraved creature that you are," interposed the meek and Christian-like disseminator; "rich people always have a right to ask such questions of their poorer neighbors; but you don't deserve the care we take of your unhappy souls."

      "Well, then, since it comes to that," said Dan, "I do taste a thrifle whin I can convayniently lay a hould of it; and, more betoken, it's a mighty bad rule that doesn't work both ways. I saw a lot of barrels and bottles goin' into the fine house over the way. I wonder if they wor intended for chimbly ornaments?"

      "Come, my dear," said Bulworthy, now supremely indignant, "let us leave these degeneratious individuals to their incoherent reflections."

      "I want my shillin'," shouted Dan.

      "You shan't have it."

      "But I'm hungry, and so is Peggy, and Pincher, and Pussy."

      "Read this, you poor, infatuated sinner," said Mrs. B., handing him another elegant extract, "and it will teach you to be contented under all circumstances."

      "Will it turn into a piece of bacon?" inquired Dan; "for if it won't yez may curl yur hair wid it. It's all very well for you barn-fed gentry to be crammin' the poor wid bits of paper – gim me me shillin'."

      The Squire said not a word, but buttoned his pockets up tightly, while, with an expression of the most intense pity for such unparalleled ignorance, his better half followed him out of the cabin.

      "May bitther bad luck attend yez both," said Dan, as they quitted the place. "The dirty dhrop's in yez, and it will show itself in spite of all yer money; hollo! ain't that the babby?" he continued, as the tiny voice of a child was heard proceeding from a little bit of a room, their only other apartment.

      "Yes, bless his bright eyes," replied Peggy, oblivious now to all the world beside. "He's awake; look at his darlin' little face, wid the laugh comin' all over it like a mealy potato." So saying, she rushed into the room, and commenced hugging and kissing their sole treasure in a most alarming manner.

      "Kiss him for me, Peg," cried Dan. "Smother the villain of the world; ah, ha!" he went on, "there's a blessin' ould top-boots hasn't got any way; a fine lump of a fella, wid the health fairly burstin' out of his murdherin' cheeks; as fat as butther, and as lively as a tickled kitten. The Squire's is a poor, wizen-faced leprechaun of a creather, that looks as if he was born forty years ould, and grew backwards ever sence. Ha, ha! the thoughts of that bright-eyed schamer puts the song into my heart, like the risin' sun to the lark."

      But soon his thoughts took a more desponding turn. "Poor little gossoon," said he, "when I think that there's nothin' before him but his father's luck in the world, to work, and pine, and toil, until his back is bent before the ould age touches it; it drives away the joy as quick as it came; murdher alive, ain't it too bad to think that ill-lookin' Kippogue over the way, might ate goold if he could only disgist it, and when he grows up, my fine, noble, blessed boy will have to bow, and cringe, and touch his hat to a chap wid no more sowl than a worn-out shoe; that's what puts evil thoughts in my head; the boy that I love, aye! almost as hard as if I was the mother of it instead of bein' only its father; when I think of him and what may be before him, oh! how I wish that I stood in ould Bulworthy's shoes, or his 'tops,' if it was only for his sake. Murdher! how sleepy I am all of a suddent; is it the drink, or the imptyness? a little of both, may-be; it ain't often I have a chance of forgettin' the dirty world for a thrifle o' time, so here goes to have СКАЧАТЬ