The Poor Scholar Part 6

He then proceeded to the carts, and approaching Jemmy, gave him such advice touching his conduct in Munster, as he considered to be most serviceable to an inexperienced lad of his years.

"Here," said the kind-hearted soul--"here, James, is my mite; it's but bare ten s.h.i.+llings; but if I could make it a pound for you, it would give me a degree of delectability which I have not enjoyed for a long time. The truth is, there's something like the _nodus matrimonii_, or what they facetiously term the priest's gallows, dangling over my head, so that any little thrifle I may get must be kept together for that crisis, James, abouchal; so that must be my apology for not giving you more, joined to the naked fact, that I never was remarkable for a superfluity of cash under any circ.u.mstances. Remember what I told you last night. Don't let a s.h.i.+lling of your money into the hands of the masther you settle wid. Give it to the parish priest, and dhraw it from him when you want it. Don't join the parties or the factions of the school. Above all, spake ill of n.o.body; and if the; masther is harsh upon you, either bear it patiently, or mintion it to the priest, or to some other person of respectability in the parish, and you'll be protected. You'll be apt to meet cruelty enough, my good boy: for there are larned Neros in Munster, who'd flog if the province was in flames.

"Now, James, I'll tell you what you'll do, when you reach the larned south. Plant yourself on the highest hill in the neighborhood wherein the academician with whom you intend to stop, lives. Let the hour of reconnoitring be that in which dinner is preparing. When seated there, James, take a survey of the smoke that ascends from the chimneys of the farmer's houses, and be sure to direct your steps to that from which the highest and merriest column issues. This is the old plan and it is a sure one. The highest smoke rises from the largest fire, the largest fire boils the biggest pot, the biggest pot generally holds the fattest bacon, and the fattest bacon is kept by the richest farmer. It's a wholesome and comfortable climax, my boy, and one by which I myself was enabled to keep a dacent portion of educated flesh between the master's birch and my ribs. The science itself is called Gastric Geography, and is peculiar only to itinerant young gintlemen who seek for knowledge in the cla.s.sical province of Munster.

"Here's a book that thravelled along wid myself through all my peregrinations--Creech's Translation of Horace. Keep it for my sake; and when you accomplish your education, if you return home this way, I'd thank you to give me a call. Farewell! G.o.d bless you and prosper you as I wish, and as I am sure you desarve."

He shook the lad by the hand; and as it was probable that his own former struggles with poverty, when in the pursuit of education, came with all the power of awakened recollection to his mind, he hastily drew his hand across his eyes, and returned to resume the brief but harmless authority of the ferula.

After arriving at the next town, Jemmy found himself once more prosecuting his journey alone. In proportion as he advanced into a strange land, his spirits became depressed, and his heart cleaved more and more to those whom he had left behind him. There is, however, an enthusiasm in the visions of youth, in the speculations of a young heart, which frequently overcomes difficulties that a mind taught by the experience of life would often shrink from encountering. We may all remember the utter recklessness of danger, with which, in our youthful days, we crossed floods, or stood upon the brow of yawning precipices--feats which, in after years, the wealth of kingdoms could not induce us to perform. Experience, as well as conscience, makes cowards of us all.

The poor scholar in the course of his journey had the satisfaction of finding himself an object of kind and hospitable attention to his countrymen. His satchel of books was literally a pa.s.sport to their hearts. For instance, as he wended his solitary way, depressed and travel-worn, he was frequently accosted by laborers from behind a ditch on the roadside, and, after giving a brief history of the object he had in view, brought, if it was dinner-hour, to some farm-house or cabin, where he was made to partake of their meal. Even those poor creatures who gain a scanty subsistence by keeping what are called "dhry lodgins,"

like _lucus a non lucendo_, because they never keep out the rain, and have mostly a bottle of whiskey for those who know how to call for it, even they, in most instances, not only refused to charge the poor scholar for his bed, but declined to receive any remuneration for his subsistence.

"Och, och, no, you poor young cratlrur, not from you. No, no; if we wouldn't help the likes o' you, who ought we to help? No dear; but instead o' the _airighad_, (* money) jist lave us your blessin', an' maybe we'll thrive as well wid that, as we would wid your little 'pences, that you'll be wanting for yourself whin your frinds won't be near to help you."

Many, in fact, were the little marks of kindness and attention which the poor lad received on his way. Sometimes a ragged peasant, if he happened to be his fellow-traveller, would carry his satchel so long as they travelled together, or a carman would give him a lift on his empty car; or some humorous postilion, or tipsy "shay-boy," with a comical leer in his eye, would shove him into his vehicle; remarking--

"Bedad, let n.o.body say you're a poor scholar now, an' you goin' to school in a coach! Be the piper that played afore Moses, if ever any rascal upraids you wid it, tell him, says you--'You d.a.m.ned rap,' says you, 'I wint to school in a coach! an' that,' says you, 'was what none o' yer beggarly gin oration was ever able to do,' says you; 'an'

moreover, be the same token,' says you, 'be the holy farmer, if you bring it up to me, I'll make a third eye in your forehead wid the b.u.t.t o' this whip,' says you. Whis.h.!.+ darlins! That's the go! There's drivin', Barny! Eh?"

At length, after much toil and travel, he reached the South, having experienced as he proceeded a series of affectionate attentions, which had, at least, the effect of reconciling him to the measure he had taken, and impressing upon his heart a deeper confidence in the kindness and hospitality of his countrymen.

Upon the evening of the day on which he terminated his journey, twilight was nearly falling; the town in which he intended to stop for the night was not a quarter of a mile before him, yet he was scarcely able to reach it; his short, yielding steps were evidently those of a young and fatigued traveller: his brow was moist with perspiration: he had just begun, too, to consider in what manner he should introduce himself to the master who taught the school at which he had been advised to stop, when he heard a step behind him, and on looking back, he discovered a tall, well-made, ruddy-faced young man, dressed in black, with a book in his hand, walking after him.

"_Unde et quo viator?_" said the stranger, on coming up to him.

"Oh, sir," replied Jemmy, "I have not Latin _yet_."

"You are on your way to seek it, however," replied the other. "Have you travelled far?"

"A long way, indeed, sir; I came from the County ------, sir--the upper part of it."

"Have you letters from your parish priest?"

"I have, sir, and one from my father's landlord, Square Benson, if you ever heard of him."

"What's your object in learning Latin?"

"To be a priest, wid the help o' G.o.d; an' to rise my poor father an'

mother out of their poverty."

His companion, after hearing this reply, bent a glance upon him, that indicated the awakening of an interest in the lad much greater than he probably otherwise would have felt.

"It's only of late," continued the boy, "that my father an' mother got poor; they were once very well to do in the world. But they were put out o' their farm in ordher that the agint might put a man that had married a _get_ (* A term implying illegitimacy) of his own into it. My father intended to lay his case before Colonel B------, the landlord; but he couldn't see him at all, bekase he never comes near the estate.

The agint's called Yallow Sam, sir; he's rich through cheatery an'

dishonesty; puts money out at intherest, then goes to law, an' brakes the people entirely; for, somehow, he never was known to lose a lawsuit at all, sir. They say it's the divil, sir, that keeps the lawyers on his side; an' that when he an' the lawyers do be dhrawin' up their writins, the devil--G.o.d betune me an' harm!--does be helpin' them!"

"And is Colonel B------ actually--or, rather, was he your father's landlord?"

"He was, indeed, sir; it's thruth I'm tellin' you."

"Singular enough! Stand beside me here--do you see that large house to the right among the trees?"

"I do, sir; a great big house, entirely--like a castle, sir."

"The same. Well, that house belongs to Colonel B------, and I am very intimate with him. I am Catholic curate of this parish; and I was, before my ordination, private tutor in his family for four years."

"Maybe, sir, you might have intherest to get my father back into his farm?"

"I do not know that, my good lad, for I am told Colonel B-----is rather embarra.s.sed, and, if I mistake not, in the power of the man you call Yellow Sam, who has, I believe, heavy mortgages upon his property.

But no matter; if I cannot help your father, I shall be able to serve yourself. Where do you intend to stop for the night?"

"In dhry lodgin', sir, that's where my father and mother bid me stop always. They war very kind to me, sir, in the dhry lddgins."

"Who is there in Ireland who would not be kind to you, my good boy? I trust you do not neglect your religious duties?"

"Wid the help o' G.o.d, sir, I strive to attind to them as well as I can; particularly since I left my father and mother. Every night an' mornin', sir, I say five Fathers, five Aves, an' a Creed; an' sometimes when I'm walkin' the road, I slip up an odd Father, sir, an' Ave, that G.o.d may grant me good luck."

The priest smiled at his candor and artlessness, and could not help feeling the interest which the boy had already excited in him increase.

"You do right," said he, "and take care that you neglect not the wors.h.i.+p of G.o.d. Avoid bad company; be not quarrelsome at school; study to improve yourself diligently; attend ma.s.s regularly; and be punctual in going to confession."

After some further conversation, the priest and he entered the town together.

"This is my house," said the former; "or if not altogether mine--at least, that in which I lodge; let me see you here at two o'clock to-morrow. In the meantime, follow me, and I shall place you with a family where you will experience every kindness and attention that can make you comfortable."

He then led him a few doors up the street, till he stopped at a decent-looking "House of Entertainment," to the proprietors of which he introduced him.

"Be kind to this strange boy," said the worthy clergyman, "and whatever the charges of his board and lodging may be until we get him settled, I shall be accountable for them."

"G.o.d forbid, your Reverence, that ever a penny belongin' to a poor boy lookin' for his larnin' should go into our pockets, if he was wid us twelve months in the year. No--no! He can stay with the _bouchaleens_; (* little boys) let them be thryin' one another in their books. If he is fardher on in the Latin then Andy, he can help Andy; an' if Andy has the foreway of him, why Andy can help him. Come here, boys, all of yez.

Here's a comrade for yez--a dacent boy that's lookin' for his larnin', the Lord enable him! Now be kind to him, an' whisper," he added, in an undertone, "don't be bringin' a blush to the gorsoon's face. Do ye hear?

Ma chorp! if ye do!--Now mind it. Ye know what I can do whin I'm well vexed! Go, now, an' get him somethin' to ate an' dhrink, an' let him sleep wid Barney in the feather bed."

During the course of the next day, the benevolent curate introduced him to the parish priest, who from the frequent claims urged by poor scholars upon his patronage, felt no particular interest in his case. He wrote a short letter, however, to the master with whom Jemmy intended to become a pupil, stating that "he was an honest boy, the son of legitimate parents, and worthy of consideration."

The curate, who saw further into the boy's character than the parish priest, accompanied him on the following day to the school; introduced him to the master in the most favorable manner, and recommended him in general to the hospitable care of all the pupils. This introduction did not serve the boy so much as might have been expected; there was nothing particular in the letter of the parish priest, and the curate was but a curate--no formidable personage in any church where the good-will of the rector has not been already secured.

Jemmy returned that day to his lodgings, and the next morning, with his Latin Grammar under his arm, he went to school to taste the first bitter fruits of the tree of knowledge.

On entering it, which he did with a beating heart, he found the despot of a hundred subjects sitting behind a desk, with his hat on, a brow superciliously severe, and his nose crimped into a most cutting and vinegar curl. The truth was, the master knew the character of the curate, and felt that because he had taken Jemmy under his protection, no opportunity remained for him of fleecing the boy, under the pretence of securing his money, and that consequently the arrival of the poor scholar would be no windfall, as he had expected.

When Jemmy entered, he looked first at the master for his welcome; but the master, who verified the proverb, that there are none so blind as those who will not see, took no notice whatsoever of him. The boy then looked timidly about the school in quest of a friendly face, and indeed few faces except friendly ones were turned upon him.

Several of the scholars rose up simultaneously to speak to him; but the pedagogue angrily inquired why they had left their seats and their business.

"Why, sir," said a young Munsterman, with a fine Milesian face--"be gorra, sir, I believe if we don't welcome the poor scholar, I think you won't. This is the boy, sir, that Mr. O'Brien came along wid yistherday, an' spoke so well of."