The Whale and the Grasshopper Part 25

"A man who loves nature and lives near the country need never be lonesome," said Micus Pat to his friend Padna Dan, as they strolled along a mountain road near the southwestern coast.

"That's very true," said Padna. "And if a man owes a lot of money, he has the consolation of knowing that he will not easily be forgotten."

"Like every other man of poetic temperament, I think more about the glories of nature, for they are both inspiring and incomprehensible, than about what I owe, or the people who were good enough to oblige me with the loan of money," said Micus.

"'Tis real decent of you to say so, and you such a judge of everything but your own idiosyncrasies," said Padna.

"Look around and about you," said Micus, "from the north to the south, and from the east to the west, and from the west again back to the east, and from the south again to the north, and if you are not impressed with the wonder and grandeur with which you are surrounded, you might as well give up your life to reading the newspapers and talking politics at the street corners."

"Beauty confronts us at every turn. The saffron moon peeps through the vista of pines on the distant hills, the sky is all ablaze with twinkling stars, and not a sound is heard except that of my own voice, and the creak of a toad in the rushes," said Padna.

"I can hear, or I seem to hear," said Micus, "the rippling of a brook as it joins the Owenacurra on its way to the sea, and it is the sweetest of all music, because it is of nature's own making, and more soothing to a troubled mind or a weary spirit than all the melodies made by man."

"I hear no sound but my own voice," said Padna.

"Put your ear to the ground, and if you are not deaf you will hear the maddening rush of the brook and the low murmuring of the Owenacurra and the heart of the world itself beating," said Micus.

"I will, then," said Padna, as he put his ear to the ground.

"Well," said Micus, "do you hear anything?"

"I hear the pulse of the earth."

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"'Tis wonderful, surely."

"I knew you'd like it."

"Sure 'tis myself always loves to walk alone by the seash.o.r.e when the world does be sleeping, and listen to the melancholy cry of the sea lark and the curlew, and the soft splash of the waves against the boulders on the beach on a dark night without any light at all, except maybe the flash from the lights.h.i.+p, or the glow from the binnacle lamp of some pa.s.sing vessel, and she sailing over the seas with a cargo of groundsel for the Emperor of j.a.pan's linnets. There's an eeriness about the night that creates an atmosphere of poetry and mystery, the like of which we never experience in the most glorious suns.h.i.+ne, even when we might be in love itself, and listening to the silvery speech of the most beautiful woman in all the land," said Padna.

"When a man is listening to the silvery speech of some lovely woman, he never knows how expensive 'tis going to be for him afterwards."

"The silvery speech of women is a magnificent thing, but their golden silence is a more magnificent thing still."

"That's true indeed, but let us forget all about the contrary creatures for a little while, and I will tell you a story that the Emperor of Russia would give his two thumbs and two little fingers to hear."

"And what is it all about?" said Padna.

"'Tis the story of a man with a wooden leg," said Micus.

"Begin," said Padna.

"Well," said Micus, as he filled his pipe, "as I was sauntering home the other night, I dropped into the Half Way House to get a toothful of something to keep out the cold, when lo and behold! who should come in and flop down beside me but a one-legged sailor and he minus an eye as well, and no more hair on his head than you'd find on a yellow turnip. He was the first to speak, and he up and ses: 'Good night, stranger,' ses he, as he poked the fire with his wooden leg, and lit his pipe with a piece of his old straw hat.

"'Good night kindly,' ses I.

"''Tis a cold kind of night,' ses he.

"'The devil of a cold night entirely,' ses I.

"''Tis indeed,' ses he, 'and a bad night for a poor man who has neither friends nor relations, or one to bother their heads about him, or even the price of a drink inself.'

"'If 'tis a drink you want,' ses I, 'all you have to do is to call for it, and I will pay. What will you have?' ses I.

"'I'll take all I can get for nothing, and give as little as I can help in return. I'm a capitalist by temperament, but poor because I didn't get a chance of exercising my talents,' ses he.

"'I suppose you wouldn't say no to a gla.s.s of whiskey,' ses I.

"'I'd say no to nothing except a black eye,' ses he.

"'You couldn't afford to have an eye blackened, when you have only one good eye already,' ses I. And then and there I treated him to two gla.s.ses of whiskey, and when he had them swallowed, I up and ses: 'How did you lose your lamp?' meaning his eye, of course.

"'In a duel with the King of Spain,' ses he.

"'Glory be to the Lord!' ses I. 'All over a woman, I presume?'

"'Of course,' ses he. And then the salt tears flowed down his sunken cheeks and formed a pool on the floor.

"'Tell me,' ses I, 'was she a very handsome woman?'

"'She was the most beautiful woman in all the world,' ses he, 'except my seventh wife, who was more beautiful than Venus, herself.'

"'And what happened to your seventh wife?' ses I.

"'Oh, she was too fond of her own people, and they got her to do all their was.h.i.+ng and scrubbing, and never gave her a moment's rest until they killed her with hard work. And then the devil blast the one of them came to the funeral, and 'twas strangers that lowered her into the grave, and no one but myself and the clergyman said a prayer for the repose of her soul,' ses he.

"'She was too good to be remembered, I suppose,' ses I.

"'She was, G.o.d help us,' ses he. 'But my ninth wife wasn't either a Venus or a Helen of Troy. She was so ugly that one day when we were going over a bridge, the river stopped, and didn't begin to flow again until she left the town.'

"'You had a lot of wives,' ses I.

"'Yes, I had a few, but 'tis a mistake to marry more than ten or twelve times,' ses he.

"Well, when I saw that his grief was getting the better of him, I ses: 'Let us not talk any more about your eye, but tell me how you lost your leg, and I'll give you another gla.s.s of grog.'

"'I never told that story to any one for less than three gla.s.ses of grog and a small bottle of rum to bring home with me for the morning, except one time I told it to the Shah of Persia for nothing, when he promised me the hand of his favourite daughter in marriage.'

"'Tell me the story, whatever 'twill cost,' ses I.

"'All right,' ses he. And then he moved closer to the fire, and this is what he told:

"'It was a cold and stormy night in the long long ago. The thunder rolled and the lightning flashed and the rain fell down in torrents. I was aboard s.h.i.+p in the middle of the ocean; the stars and moon were screened and not a light was seen except a glimmer from the port side of another vessel labouring in the storm. Peal after peal of thunder resounded until one thought that the G.o.ds of war on all the other planets had gone mad, and were discharging their heavy artillery at the earth, trying to shatter it to atoms. The canvas was torn from the yards, and spar after spar fell, until nothing but the masts remained.

"'And as the storm grew in intensity, the s.h.i.+p lurched and the masts themselves fell, and crashed through her as though she was only made of matchwood; and in their fall they killed as many as five and twenty men at a time. And as the last mast made splinters of the deck house, the good s.h.i.+p Nora Crena sank beneath the waves never to rise again.