Jack Hinton: The Guardsman. Lever Charles James

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      “Are ye awake, yet?” said a harsh, husky voice, like a bear in bronchitis, which I had no difficulty in pronouncing to be Corny’s.

      “Yes, come in,” cried I; “what hour is it?”

      “Somewhere after ten,” replied he, sulkily; “you’re the first I ever heerd ask the clock, in the eight years I have lived here. Are ye ready for your morning?”

      “My what?” said I, with some surprise.

      “Didn’t I say it, plain enough? Is it the brogue that bothers you?”

      As he said this with a most sarcastic grin he poured, from a large jug he held in one hand, a brimming goblet full of some white compound, and handed it over to me. Preferring at once to explore, rather than to question the intractable Corny, I put it to my lips, and found it to be capital milk punch, concocted with great skill, and seasoned with what O’Grady afterwards called “a notion of nutmeg.”

      “Oh! devil fear you, that he’ll like it. Sorrow one of you ever left as much in the jug as ‘ud make a foot-bath for a flea.”

      “They don’t treat you over well, then, Corny,” said I, purposely opening the sorest wound of his nature.

      “Trate me well! faix, them that ‘ud come here for good tratement, would go to the devil for divarsion. There’s Master Phil himself, that I used to bate, when he was a child, many’s the time, when his father, rest his sowl, was up at the coorts – ay, strapped him, till he hadn’t a spot that wasn’t sore an him – and look at him now; oh, wirra! you’d think I never took a ha’porth of pains with him. Ugh! – the haythins! – the Turks!”

      “This is all very bad, Corny; hand me those boots.”

      “And thim’s boots!” said he, with a contemptuous expression on his face that would have struck horror to the heart of Hoby. “Well, well.” Here he looked up as though the profligacy and degeneracy of the age were transgressing all bounds. “When you’re ready, come over to the master’s, for he’s waiting breakfast for you. A beautiful hour for breakfast, it is! Many’s the day his father sintenced a whole dockful before the same time!”

      With the comforting reflection that the world went better in his youth, Corny drained the few remaining drops of the jug, and, muttering the while something that did not sound exactly like a blessing, waddled out of the room with a gait of the most imposing gravity.

      I had very little difficulty in finding my friend’s quarters; for, as his door lay open, and as he himself was carolling away, at the very top of his lungs, some popular melody of the day, I speedily found myself beyond the threshold.

      “Ah! Hinton, my hearty, how goes it? your headpiece nothing the worse, I hope, for either the car or the claret? By-the-by, capital claret that is! you’ve nothing like it in England.”

      I could scarce help a smile at the remark, as he proceeded,

      “But come, my boy, sit down; help yourself to a cutlet, and make yourself quite at home in Mount O’Grady.”

      “Mount O’Grady!” repeated I. “Ha! in allusion, I suppose, to these confounded two flights one has to climb up to you.”

      “Nothing of the kind; the name has a very different origin. Tea or coffee? there’s the tap! Now, my boy, the fact is, we O’Gradys were once upon a time very great folk in our way; lived in an uncouth old barrack, with battlements and a keep, upon the Shannon, where we ravaged the country for miles round, and did as much mischief, and committed as much pillage upon the peaceable inhabitants, as any respectable old family in the province. Time, however, wagged on; luck changed; your countrymen came pouring in upon us with new-fangled notions of reading, writing, and road-making; police and petty sessions, and a thousand other vexatious contrivances followed, to worry and puzzle the heads of simple country gentlemen; so that, at last, instead of taking to the hill-side for our mutton, we were reduced to keep a market-cart, and employ a thieving rogue in Dublin to supply us with poor claret, instead of making a trip over to Galway, where a smuggling craft brought us our liquor, with a bouquet fresh from Bordeaux. But the worst wasn’t come; for you see, a litigious spirit grew up in the country, and a kind of vindictive habit of pursuing you for your debts. Now, we always contrived, somehow or other, to have rather a confused way of managing our exchequer. No tenant on the property ever precisely knew what he owed; and, as we possessed no record of what he paid, our income was rather obtained after the maimer of levying a tribute, than receiving a legal debt. Meanwhile, we pushed our credit like a new colony: whenever a loan was to be, obtained, it was little we cared for ten, twelve, or even fifteen per cent.; and as we kept a jolly house, a good cook, good claret, and had the best pack of beagles in the country, he’d have been a hardy creditor who’d have ventured to push us to extremities. Even sheep, however, they say, get courage when they flock together, and so this contemptible herd of tailors, tithe-proctors, butchers, barristers, and bootmakers, took heart of grace, and laid siege to us in all form. My grandfather, Phil, – for I was called after him, – who always spent his money like a gentleman, had no notion of figuring in the Four Courts; but he sent Tom Darcy, his cousin, up to town, to call out as many of the plaintiffs as would fight, and to threaten the remainder that, if they did not withdraw their suits, they’d have more need of the surgeon than the attorney-general; for they shouldn’t have a whole bone in their body by Michaelmas-day. Another cutlet, Hinton? But I am tiring you with all these family matters.”

      “Not at all; go on, I beg of you. I want to hear how your grandfather got out of his difficulties.”

      “Faith, I wish you could! it would be equally pleasant news to myself; but, unfortunately, his beautiful plan only made bad worse, for they began fresh actions. Some, for provocation to fight a duel; others, for threats of assault and battery; and the short of it was, as my grandfather wouldn’t enter a defence, they obtained their verdicts, and got judgment, with all the costs.”

      “The devil they did! That must have pushed him hard.”

      “So it did; indeed it got the better of his temper, and he that was one of the heartiest, pleasantest fellows in the province, became, in a manner, morose and silent; and, instead of surrendering possession, peaceably and quietly, he went down to the gate, and took a sitting shot at the sub-sheriff, who was there in a tax-cart.”

      “Bless my soul! Did he kill him?”

      “No; he only ruffled his feathers, and broke his thigh; but it was bad enough, for he had to go over to France till it blew over. Well, it was either vexation or the climate, or, maybe, the weak wines, or, perhaps, all three, undermined his constitution, but he died at eighty-four – the only one of the family ever cut off early, except such as were shot, or the like.”

      “Well, but your father – ”

      “I am coming to him. My grandfather sent for him from school when he was dying, and he made him swear he would be a lawyer. ‘Morris will be a thorn in their flesh, yet,’ said he; ‘and look to it, my boy,’ he cried, ‘I leave you a Chancery suit that has nearly broke eight families and the hearts of two chancellors; – see that you keep it goings – sell every stick on the estate – put all the beggars in the barony on the property – beg, borrow, and steal them – plough up all the grazing-land; and I’ll tell you a better trick than all – ’ Here a fit of coughing interrupted the pious old gentleman, and, when it was over, so was he!”

      “Dead!” said I.

      “As a door-nail! Well, my father was dutiful; he kept the suit moving till he got called to the Bar! Once there, he gave it all his spare moments; and when СКАЧАТЬ