Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume 1. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ I, ‘that I’ve saved my money; for av it was my father you seen, and that he got his head and one shoulder outside the door, oh, then, by the powers!’ says I, ‘the devil a jail or jailer from hell to Connaught id hould him. So, Father Roach, I wish you the top of the morning.’ And I went away laughing; and from that day to this I never heard more of purgathory; and ye see, Master Charles, I think I was right.”

      Scarcely had Mike concluded when my door was suddenly burst open, and Sir Harry Boyle, without assuming any of his usual precautions respecting silence and quiet, rushed into the room, a broad grin upon his honest features, and his eyes twinkling in a way that evidently showed me something had occurred to amuse him.

      “By Jove, Charley, I mustn’t keep it from you; it’s too good a thing not to tell you. Do you remember that very essenced young gentleman who accompanied Sir George Dashwood from Dublin, as a kind of electioneering friend?”

      “Do you mean Mr. Prettyman?”

      “The very man; he was, you are aware, an under-secretary in some government department. Well, it seems that he had come down among us poor savages as much from motives of learned research and scientific inquiry, as though we had been South Sea Islanders; report had gifted us humble Galwayans with some very peculiar traits, and this gifted individual resolved to record them. Whether the election week might have sufficed his appetite for wonders I know not; but he was peaceably taking his departure from the west on Saturday last, when Phil Macnamara met him, and pressed him to dine that day with a few friends at his house. You know Phil; so that when I tell you Sam Burke, of Greenmount, and Roger Doolan were of the party, I need not say that the English traveller was not left to his own unassisted imagination for his facts. Such anecdotes of our habits and customs as they crammed him with, it would appear, never were heard before; nothing was too hot or too heavy for the luckless cockney, who, when not sipping his claret, was faithfully recording in his tablet the mems. for a very brilliant and very original work on Ireland.

      “Fine country, splendid country; glorious people, – gifted, brave, intelligent, but not happy, – alas! Mr. Macnamara, not happy. But we don’t know you, gentlemen, – we don’t indeed, – at the other side of the Channel. Our notions regarding you are far, very far from just.”

      “I hope and trust,” said old Burke, “you’ll help them to a better understanding ere long.”

      “Such, my dear sir, will be the proudest task of my life. The facts I have heard here this evening have made so profound an impression upon me that I burn for the moment when I can make them known to the world at large. To think – just to think that a portion of this beautiful island should be steeped in poverty; that the people not only live upon the mere potatoes, but are absolutely obliged to wear the skins for raiment, as Mr. Doolan has just mentioned to me!”

      “‘Which accounts for our cultivation of lumpers,’ added Mr. Doolan, ‘they being the largest species of the root, and best adapted for wearing apparel.’

      “‘I should deem myself culpable – indeed I should – did I not inform my countrymen upon the real condition of this great country.’

      “‘Why, after your great opportunities for judging,’ said Phil, ‘you ought to speak out. You’ve seen us in a way, I may fairly affirm, few Englishmen have, and heard more.’

      “‘That’s it, – that’s the very thing, Mr. Macnamara. I’ve looked at you more closely; I’ve watched you more narrowly; I’ve witnessed what the French call your vie intime.’

      “‘Begad you have,’ said old Burke, with a grin, ‘and profited by it to the utmost.’

      “‘I’ve been a spectator of your election contests; I’ve partaken of your hospitality; I’ve witnessed your popular and national sports; I’ve been present at your weddings, your fairs, your wakes; but no, – I was forgetting, – I never saw a wake.’

      “‘Never saw a wake?’ repeated each of the company in turn, as though the gentleman was uttering a sentiment of very dubious veracity.

      “‘Never,’ said Mr. Prettyman, rather abashed at this proof of his incapacity to instruct his English friends upon all matters of Irish interest.

      “‘Well, then,’ said Macnamara, ‘with a blessing, we’ll show you one. Lord forbid that we shouldn’t do the honors of our poor country to an intelligent foreigner when he’s good enough to come among us.’

      “‘Peter,’ said he, turning to the servant behind him, ‘who’s dead hereabouts?’

      “‘Sorra one, yer honor. Since the scrimmage at Portumna the place is peaceable.’

      “‘Who died lately in the neighborhood?’

      “‘The widow Macbride, yer honor.’

      “‘Couldn’t they take her up again, Peter? My friend here never saw a wake.’

      “‘I’m afeered not; for it was the boys roasted her, and she wouldn’t be a decent corpse for to show a stranger,’ said Peter, in a whisper.

      “Mr. Prettyman shuddered at these peaceful indications of the neighborhood, and said nothing.

      “‘Well, then, Peter, tell Jimmy Divine to take the old musket in my bedroom, and go over to the Clunagh bog, – he can’t go wrong. There’s twelve families there that never pay a halfpenny rent; and when it’s done, let him give notice to the neighborhood, and we’ll have a rousing wake.’

      “‘You don’t mean, Mr. Macnamara, – you don’t mean to say – ’ stammered out the cockney, with a face like a ghost.

      “‘I only mean to say,’ said Phil, laughing, ‘that you’re keeping the decanter very long at your right hand.’

      “Burke contrived to interpose before the Englishman could ask any explanation of what he had just heard, – and for some minutes he could only wait in impatient anxiety, – when a loud report of a gun close beside the house attracted the attention of the guests. The next moment old Peter entered, his face radiant with smiles.

      “‘Well, what’s that?’ said Macnamara.

      “‘‘T was Jimmy, yer honor. As the evening was rainy, he said he’d take one of the neighbors; and he hadn’t to go far, for Andy Moore was going home, and he brought him down at once.’

      “‘Did he shoot him?’ said Mr. Prettyman, while cold perspiration broke over his forehead. ‘Did he murder the man?’

      “‘Sorra murder,’ said Peter, disdainfully. ‘But why shouldn’t he shoot him when the master bid him?’

      “I needn’t tell you more, Charley; but in ten minutes after, feigning some excuse to leave the room, the terrified cockney took flight, and offering twenty guineas for a horse to convey him to Athlone, he left Galway, fully convinced that they don’t yet know us on the other side of the Channel.”

      CHAPTER XIII

THE JOURNEY

      The election concluded, the turmoil and excitement of the contest over, all was fast resuming its accustomed routine around us, when one morning my uncle informed me that I was at length to leave my native county and enter upon the great world as a student of Trinity College, Dublin. Although long since in expectation of this eventful change, it was with no slight feeling of emotion I contemplated the step which, removing me at once from all my early СКАЧАТЬ