The Ned M'Keown Stories Part 4

This language was by no means calculated to allay the suspicions of those who were present, particularly of Nancy and her two nieces. Ned sat in astonishment, with the pipe in his hand, which he had, in the surprise of the moment, taken from his mouth, his eyes fixed upon the stranger, and his mouth open. The latter noticed him, and stretching over the heads of the circle, tapped him on the shoulder with his whip:--

"I have a few words to say to you, sir," he said.

"To me, your honor!" exclaimed Ned, without stirring, however.

"Yes," replied the other, "but you seem to be fastened to your seat: come this way."

"By all manner of manes, sir," said Ned, starting up, and going over to the dresser, against which the stranger stood.

When the latter had got him there, he very coolly walked up, and secured Ned's comfortable seat on the hob, at the same time observing--

"You hadn't the manners to ask me to sit down; but I always make it a point of conscience to take care of myself, landlord."

There was not a man about the fire who did not stand up, as if struck with a sudden recollection, and offer him a seat.

"No," said he, "thank you, my good fellows, I am very well as it is: I suppose, mistress, you are the landlady," addressing Nancy; "if you be, I'll thank you to bring me a gill of your best whiskey,--your best, mind. Let it be as strong as an evil spirit let loose, and as hot as fire; for it can't be a jot too ardent such a night as this, for a being that rides the devil."

Nancy started up instinctively, exclaiming, "Indeed, plase your honor's reverence, I am the landlady, as you say, sir, sure enough; but, the Lawk save and guard us! won't a gallon of raw whiskey be too much for one man to drink?"

"A gallon! I only said a gill, my good hostess; bring me a gill--but I forget--I believe you have no such measure in this country; bring me a pint, then."

Nancy now went into the bar, whither she gave Ned a wink to follow her; and truly was glad of an opportunity of escaping from the presence of the visitor. When there, she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed--

"May the holy Mother keep and guard us, Ned, but I'm afeard that's no Christian crathur, at all at all! Arrah, Ned, aroon, would he be that ould Square Grame, that Shane Fadh, maybe, angered, by spakin' of him?"

"Troth," said Ned, "myself doesn't know what he is; he bates any mortal I ever seen."

"Well, hould agra! I have it: we'll see whether he'll drink this or not, any how."

"Why, what's that you're doin'?" asked Ned.

"Jist," replied Nancy, "mixin' the smallest taste in the world of holy wather with the whiskey, and if he drinks that, you know he can be nothing that's bad."*

* The efficacy of holy water in all Roman Catholic countries, but especially in Ireland, is supposed to be very great. It is kept in the house, or, in certain cases, about the person, as a safeguard against evil spirits, fairies, or sickness. It is also used to allay storms and quench conflagrations; and when an Irishman or Irishwoman is about to go a journey, commence labor or enter upon any other important undertaking, the person is sure to be sprinkled with holy water, under the hope that the journey or undertaking will prosper.

Nancy, however, did not perceive that the trepidation of her hand was such as to incapacitate her from making nice distinctions in the admixture. She now brought the spirits to the stranger, who no sooner took a mouthful of it, than he immediately stopped it on its pa.s.sage, and fixing his eyes earnestly on herself, squirted it into the fire, and the next moment the whiskey was in a blaze that seemed likely to set the chimney in flames.

"Why, my honest hostess," he exclaimed, "do you give this to me for whiskey? Confound me, but two-thirds of it is water; and I have no notion to pay for water when I want spirits: have the goodness to exchange this, and get me some better stuff, if you have it."

He again put the jug to his mouth, and having taken a little, swallowed it:--"Why, I tell you, woman, you must have made some mistake; one-half of it is water."

Now, Nancy, from the moment he refused to swallow the liquor, had been lock-jawed; the fact was, she thought that the devil himself, or old Squire Graham, had got under her roof; and she stood behind Ned, who was nearly as terrified as herself, with her hands raised, her tongue clinging to the roof of her mouth, and the perspiration falling from her pale face in large drops. But as soon as she saw him swallow a portion of that liquid, which she deemed beyond the deglut.i.tion of ghost or devil, she instantly revived--her tongue resumed its accustomed office--her courage, as well as her good-humor, returned, and she went up to him with great confidence, saying,

"Why, then, your Reverence's honor, maybe I did make a bit of a mistake, sir"--taking up the jug, and tasting its contents: "Hut! bad scran to me, but I did, beggin' your honor's pardon; how-an-diver, I'll soon rightify that, your Reverence."

So saying, she went and brought him a pint of the stoutest the house afforded. The stranger drank a gla.s.s of it, and then ordered hot water and sugar, adding--

"My honest friends here about the fire will have no objection to help me with this; but, on second consideration, you had better get us another quart, that as the night is cold, we may have a jorum at this pleasant fire, that will do our hearts good; and this pretty girl here,"

addressing Biddy, who really deserved the epithet, "will sit beside me, and give us a song."

It was surprising what an effect the punch even in perspective, had upon the visual organs of the company; second-sight was rather its precursor than its attendant; for, with intuitive penetration, they now discovered various good qualities in his ghost-s.h.i.+p, that had hitherto been beyond their ken; and those very personal properties, which before struck them dumb with terror, already called forth their applause.

"What a fine man he is!" one would whisper, loud enough, however, to be heard by the object of his panegyric.

"He is, indeed, and a rale gintleman," another would respond in the same key.

"Hut! he's none of your proud, stingy upsthart bodagahs*--none of your beggarly half-sirs*," a third would remark: "he's the dacent thing entirely--you see he hasn't his heart in a thrifle."

* A person vulgar, but rich, without any pretensions but those of wealth to the character of a gentleman; a churl.

Half-sir; the same as above.

"And so sign's on him," a fourth would add, with comic gravity, "he wasn't bred to shabbiness, as you may know by his fine behavior and his big whiskers."

When the punch was made, and the kitchen-table placed endwise towards the fire, the stranger, finding himself very comfortable, inquired if he could be accommodated with a bed and supper, to which Nancy replied in the affirmative.

"Then, in that case," said he, "I will be your guest for the night."

Shane Fadh now took courage to repeat the story of old Squire Graham and his horse with the loose shoe; informing the stranger, at the same time, of the singular likeness which he bore to the subject of the story, both in face and size, and dwelling upon the remarkable coincidence in the time and manner of his approach.

"Tut, man!" said the stranger, "a far more extraordinary adventure happened to one of my father's tenants, which, if none of you have any objection, I will relate."

There was a buzz of approbation at this; and they all thanked his honor, expressing the strongest desire to hear his story. He was just proceeding to gratify them, when another rap came to the door, and, before any of the inmates had time to open it, Father Ned Deleery and his curate made their appearance, having been on their way home from a conference held in the town of ----, eighteen miles from the scene of our present story.

It may be right here to inform the reader, that about two hundred yards from Ned's home stood a place of Roman Catholic wors.h.i.+p, called "the Forth,"* from the resemblance it bore to the _Forts_ or _Baths_, so common in Ireland. It was a small green, perfectly circular, and about twenty yards in diameter. Around it grew a row of old overspreading hawthorns, whose branches formed a canopy that almost shaded it from sun and storm. Its area was encompa.s.sed by tiers of seats, one raised above another, and covered with the flowery gra.s.s. On these the congregation used to sit--the young men chatting or ogling their sweethearts on the opposite side; the old ones in little groups, discussing the politics of the day, as retailed by Mick M'Caffry.** the politician; while, up near the altar, hemmed in by a ring of old men and women, you might perceive a _voteen_, repeating some new prayer or choice piece of devotion--or some other, in a similar circle, perusing, in a loud voice. Dr.

Gallagher's Irish Sermons, Pastorini's History of the Christian Church, or Columbkill's Prophecy--and, perhaps, a strolling pilgrim, the centre of a third collection, singing the _Dies irae_, in Latin, or the Hermit of Killarney, in English.

* This very beautiful but simple place of wors.h.i.+p does not now exist. On its site is now erected a Roman Catholic chapel.

** Mick was also a schoolmaster, and the most celebrated village politician of his day. Every Sunday found him engaged as in the text.

At the extremity of this little circle was a plain altar of wood, covered with a little thatched shed, under which the priest celebrated ma.s.s; but before the performance of this ceremony, a large mult.i.tude usually a.s.sembled opposite Ned's shop-door, at the cross-roads. This crowd consisted of such as wanted to buy tobacco, candles, soap, potash, and such other groceries as the peasantry remote from market-towns require. After ma.s.s, the public-house was filled to the door-posts, with those who wished to get a sample of Nancy's _Iska-behagh_* and many a time has little Father Ned himself, of a frosty day, after having performed ma.s.s with a celerity highly agreeable to his auditory, come in to Nancy, nearly frost-bitten, to get his breakfast, and a toothful of mountain dew to drive the cold out of his stomach.

_Usquebaugh_--literally, "water of life."

The fact is, that Father Deleery made himself quite at home at Ned's without any reference to Nancy's saving habits; the consequence was, that her welcome to him was extremely sincere--"from the teeth out."

Father Ned saw perfectly through her a.s.sumed heartiness of manner, but acted as if the contrary was the case; Nancy understood him also, and with an intention of making up by complaisance for their n.i.g.g.ardliness in other respects, was a perfect honeycomb. This state of cross-purposes, however, could not last long; neither did it. Father Ned never paid, and Nancy never gave credit; so, at length, they came to an open rupture; she threatened to process him for what he owed her, and he, in return, threatened to remove the congregation from "The Forth"

to Ballymagowan bridge, where he intended to set up his nephew in the "public line," to the ruin of Nancy's flouris.h.i.+ng establishment.

"Father Ned," said Nancy, "I'm a hardworking, honest woman, and I don't see why my substance is to be wasted by your Reverence when you won't pay for it."

"And do you forget," Father Ned would reply, "that it's me that brings you your custom? Don't you know that if I remove my flock to Ballymagowan, you'll soon sing to another tune? so lay that to your heart."

"Troth, I know that whatever I get I'm obliged to pay for it; and I think every man should do the same, Father Ned. You must get a hank of yarn from me, and a bushel or two of oats from Ned, and your riglar dues along with all; but, avourneen, it's yourself that won't pay a penny when you can help it."

"Salvation to me, but you'd skin a flint!"

"Well, if I would, I pay my debts first."

"You do?"