Phelim Otoole's Courtship and Other Stories Part 39

At length the kettle was boiled, and the punch made; Art took his tumbler in hand, and rose up; he looked at it, then glanced at his brother, who observed that he got pale and agitated.

"What ails you?" said he; "is there any thing wrong wid you?"

"I'm thinkin'," replied Art, "of what I suffered wanst by it; an'

besides, it's so long since I tasted it, that somehow I jist feel for all the world as if the oath was scarcely off of me yet, or as if I was doin' what's not right."

"That's mere weakness," said Frank; "but still, if you have any scruple, don't drink it; I bekaise the truth is, Art, you couldn't have a scruple that will do you more good than one against liquor."

"Well, I'll only take this tumbler an' another to-night; and then we'll go to bed, plase goodness."

His agitation then pa.s.sed away, and he drank a portion of the liquor.

"I'm thinkin', Art," said Frank, "that it wouldn't be aisy to find two men that has a betther right to be thankful to G.o.d for the good fortune we've both had, than yourself and me. The Lord has been good, to me, for I'm thrivin' to my heart's content, and savin' money every day."

"And glory be to his holy name," said Art, looking with a strong sense of religious feeling upward, "so am I; and if we both hould to this, we'll die rich, plaise goodness. I have saved up very well, too; and here I sit this night as happy a man as is in Europe. The world's flowin' on me, an' I want for nothin'; I have good health, a clear conscience, and everything that a man in my condition of life can stand in need of, or wish for; glory be to G.o.d for it all!"

"Amen," said Frank; "glory be to his name for it!"

"But, Frank," said Art, "there's one thing that I often wonder at, an'

indeed so does every one a'most."

"What is that, Art?"

"Why, that you don't think o' marryin'. Sure you have good means to keep a wife, and rear a family now; an' of coorse we all wonder that you don't."

"Indeed, to tell you the truth, Art, I don't know myself what's the raison of it--the only wife I think of is my business; but any way, if you was to see the patthern of married life there is undher the roof wid me, you'd not be much in consate wid marriage yourself, if you war a bachelor."

"Why," inquired the other, "don't they agree?"

"Ay do they, so well that they get sometimes into very close an' lovin'

grips togather; if ever there was a scald alive she's one o' them, an'

him that was wanst so careless and aisey-tempered, she has now made him as bad as herself--has trained him regularly until he has a tongue that would face a ridgment. Tut, sure divil a week that they don't flake one another, an' half my time's, taken up reddin' them."

"Did you ever happen to get the reddin' blow? eh? ha, ha, ha!"

"No, not yet; but the truth is, Art, that an ill-tongued wife has driven many a husband to ruin, an' only that I'm there to pay attention to the business, he'd be a poor drunken beggarman long ago, an' all owin' to her vile temper."

"Does she dhrink?"

"No, sorra drop--this wickedness all comes natural to her; she wouldn't be aisy out of hot wather, and poor Jack's parboiled in it every day in the year."

"Well, it's I that have got the treasure, Frank; from the day that I first saw her face till the minute we're spakin' in, I never knew her temper to turn--always the same sweet word, the same flow of spirits, and the same light laugh; her love an' affection for me an' the childher there couldn't be language found for. Come, throth we'll drink her health in another tumbler, and a speedy uprise to her, asth.o.r.e machree that she is, an' when I think of how she set every one of her people at defiance, and took her lot wid myself so n.o.bly, my heart burns wid love for her, ay, I feel my very heart burnin' widin me."

Two tumblers were again mixed, and Margaret's health was drunk.

"Here's her health," said Art, "may G.o.d grant her long life and happiness!"

"Amen!" responded Frank, "an' may He grant that she'll never know a sorrowful heart!"

Art laid down his tumbler, and covered his eyes with his hands for a minute or two.

"I'm not ashamed, Frank," said he, "I'm not a bit ashamed of these tears--she desarves them--where is her aiquil? oh, where is her aiquil? It's she herself that has the tear for the distresses of her fellow-creatures, an' the ready hand to relieve them; may the Almighty shower down his blessins on her!"

"Them tears do you credit," replied Frank, "and although I always thought well of you, Art, and liked you betther than any other in the family, although I didn't say much about it, still, I tell you, I think betther of you this minute than I ever did in my life."

"There's only one thing in the wide world that's throublin' her,"

said Art, "an' that is, that she hadn't her parents' blessin' when she married me, nor since--for ould Murray's as stiff-necked as a mule, an'

the more he's driven to do a thing the less he'll do it."

"In that case," observed Frank, "the best plan is to let him alone; maybe when it's not axed for he'll give it."

"I wish he would," said Art, "for Margaret's sake; it would take away a good deal of uneasiness from her mind."

The conversation afterwards took several turns, and embraced a variety of topics, till the second tumbler was finished.

"Now," said Art, "as there's but the two of us, and in regard of the occasion that's in it, throth we'll jist take one more a piece."

"No," replied Frank, "I never go beyant two, and you said you wouldn't."

"Hut, man, divil a matther for that; sure there's only ourselves two, as I said, an' Where's the harm? Throth, it's a long time since I felt myself so comfortable, an' besides, it's not every night we have you wid us. Come, Frank, one more in honor of the occasion."

"Another drop won't cross my lips this night," returned his brother, firmly, "so you needn't be mixin' it."

"Sorra foot you'll go to bed to-night till you take another; there, now it's mixed, so you know you must take it now."

"Not a drop."

"Well, for the sake of poor little Kate, that you're to stand for; come, Frank, death alive, man!"

"Would my drinkin' it do Kate any good?"

"Hut, man alive, sure if one was to lay down the law that way upon every thing, they might as well be out of the world at wanst; come, Frank."'

"No, Art, I said I wouldn't, and I won't break my word."

"But, sure, that's only a trifle; take the liquor; the sorra betther tumbler of punch ever was made: it's Barney Scaddhan's whiskey."*

* Scaddhan, a herring, a humorous nickname bestowed upon him, because he made the foundation of his fortune by selling herrings.

"An' if Barney Scaddhan keeps good whiskey, is that any rason why I should break my word, or would you have me get dhrunk because his liquor's betther than another man's?"

"Well, for the sake of poor Margaret, then, an' she so fond o' you; sure many a time she tould me that sorra brother-in-law ever she had she likes so well, an' I know it's truth; that I may never handle a plane but it is; dang it, Frank, don't be so stiff."

"I never was stiff, Art, but I always was, and always will be, firm, when I know I'm in the right; as I said about the child, what good would my drinkin' that tumbler of punch do Margaret? None in life; it would do her no good, and it would do myself harm. Sure, we did drink her health."

"An' is that your respect for her?" said Art, in a huff, "if that's it, why--"

"There's not a man livin' respects her more highly, or knows her worth betther than I do," replied Frank, interrupting him, "but I simply ax you, Art, what mark of true respect would the fact of my drinkin' that tumbler of punch be to her? The world's full of these foolish errors, and bad ould customs, and the sooner they're laid aside, an' proper ones put in their place, the betther."