The Emigrants Of Ahadarra. William Carleton

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ busily engaged in soldering, clasping, and otherwise repairing certain vessels belonging to that warm and spacious establishment. The leader of these vagrants was a man named Philip Hogan, a fellow of surprising strength and desperate character, whose feats of hardihood and daring had given him a fearful notoriety over a large district of the country. Hogan was a man whom almost every one feared, being, from confidence, we presume, in his great strength, as well as by nature, both insolent, overbearing, and ruffianly in the extreme. His inseparable and appropriate companion was a fierce and powerful bull-dog of the old Irish breed, which he had so admirably trained that it was only necessary to give him a sign, and he would seize by the throat either man or beast, merely in compliance with the will of his master. On this occasion he was accompanied by two of his brothers, who were, in fact, nearly as impudent and offensive ruffians as himself. Hycy paused for a moment, seemed thoughtful, and tapped his boot with the point of his whip as he looked at them. On entering the parlor he found dinner over, and his father, as was usual, waiting to get his tumbler of punch.

      “Where's my mother?” he asked—“where's Mrs. Burke?”

      On uttering the last words he raised his voice so as she might distinctly hear him.

      “She's above stairs gettin' the whiskey,” replied his father, “and God knows she's long enough about it.”

      Hycy ran up, and meeting her on the lobby, said, in a low, anxious voice—

      “Well, what news? Will he stand it?”

      “No,” she replied, “you may give up the notion—he won't do it, an' there's no use in axin' him any more.”

      “He won't do it!” repeated the son; “are you certain now?”

      “Sure an' sartin. I done all that could be done; but it's worse an' worse he got.”

      Something escaped Hycy in the shape of an ejaculation, of which we are not in possession at present; he immediately added:—

      “Well, never mind. Heavens! how I pity you, ma'am—to be united to such a d—d—hem!—to such a—a—such a—gentleman!”

      Mrs. Burke raised her hands as if to intimate that it was useless to indulge in any compassion of the kind.

      “The thing's now past cure,” she said; “I'm a marthyr, an' that's all that's about it. Come down till I get you your dinner.”

      Hycy took his seat in the parlor, and began to give a stave of the “Bay of Biscay:”—

      “'Loud roar'd the dreadful thunder,

       The rain a deluge pours;

       The clouds were rent asunder

       By light'ning's vivid—'

      By the way, mother, what are those robbing ruffians, the Hogans, doing at the kitchen door there?”

      “Troth, whatever they like,” she replied. “I tould that vagabond, Philip, that I had nothing for them to do, an' says he, 'I'm the best judge of that, Rosha Burke.' An, with that he walks into the kitchen, an' takes everything that he seen a flaw in, an' there he and them sat a mendin' an' sotherin' an' hammerin' away at them, without ever sayin' 'by your lave.'”

      “It's perfectly well known that they're robbers,” said Hycy, “and the general opinion is that they're in connection with a Dublin gang, who are in this part of the country at present. However, I'll speak to the ruffians about such conduct.”

      He then left the parlor, and proceeding to the farmyard, made a signal to one of the Hogans, who went down hammer in hand to where he stood. During a period of ten minutes, he and Hycy remained in conversation, but of what character it was, whether friendly or otherwise, the distance at which they stood rendered it impossible for any one to ascertain. Hycy then returned to dinner, whilst his father in the meantime sat smoking his pipe, and sipping from time to time at his tumbler of punch. Mrs. Burke, herself, occupied an arm-chair to the left of the fire, engaged at a stocking which was one of a pair that she contrived to knit for her husband during every twelve months; and on the score of which she pleaded strong claims to a character of most exemplary and indefatigable industry.

      “Any news from the market, Hycy?” said his father.

      “Yes,” replied Hycy, in that dry ironical tone which he always used to his parents—“rather interesting—Ballymacan is in the old place.”

      “Bekaise,” replied his father, with more quickness than might be expected, as he whiffed away the smoke with a face of very sarcastic humor; “I hard it had gone up a bit towards the mountains—but I knew you wor the boy could tell me whether it had or not—ha!—ha!—ha!”

      This rejoinder, in addition to the intelligence Hycy had just received from his mother, was not calculated to improve his temper. “You may laugh,” he replied; “but if your respectable father had treated you in a spirit so stingy and beggarly as that which I experience at your hands, I don't know how you might have borne it.”

      “My father!” replied Burke; “take your time, Hycy—my hand to you, he had a different son to manage from what I have.”

      “God sees that's truth,” exclaimed his wife, turning the expression to her son's account.

      “I was no gentleman, Hycy,” Burke proceeded.

      “Ah, is it possible?” said the son, with a sneer. “Are you sure of that, now?”

      “Nor no spendthrift, Hycy.”

      “No,” said the wife, “you never had the spirit; you were ever and always a molshy.” (* A womanly, contemptible fellow)

      “An' yet molshy as I was,” he replied, “you wor glad to catch me. But Hycy, my good boy, I didn't cost my father at the rate of from a hundre'-an'-fifty to two-hundre'-a-year, an' get myself laughed at and snubbed by my superiors, for forcin' myself into their company.”

      “Can't you let the boy ait his dinner in peace, at any rate?” said his mother. “Upon my credit I wouldn't be surprised if you drove him away from us altogether.”

      “I only want to drive him into common sense, and the respectful feeling he ought to show to both you an' me, Rosha,” said Burke; “if he expects to have either luck or grace, or the blessing of God upon him, he'll change his coorses, an' not keep breakin' my heart as he's doin'.”

      “Will you pay for the mare I bought, father?” asked Hycy, very seriously. “I have already told you, that I paid three guineas earnest; I hope you will regard your name and family so far as to prevent me from breaking my word—besides leading the world to suppose that you are a poor man.”

      “Regard my name and family!” returned the father, with a look of bitterness and sorrow; “who is bringin' them into disgrace, Hycy?”

      “In the meantime,” replied the son, “I have asked a plain question, Mr. Burke, and I expect a plain answer; will you pay for the mare?”

      “An' supposin' I don't?”

      “Why, then, Mr. Burke, if you don't you won't, that's all.”

      “I must stop some time,” replied СКАЧАТЬ