Irish Wonders Part 12

"'Shmall thanks to ye,' says Finn, 'sure isn't the coortin' the best share o' the job?'

[Ill.u.s.tration: "AN' WHO ARE YOU, ME DEAR?" SAYS FINN, LOOKIN' UP.]

"AN' WHO ARE YOU, ME DEAR?" SAYS FINN, LOOKIN' UP.

"'Don't ye mane to marry her?' says his mother.

"'Divil a toe will I go wid her,' says Finn.

"'Out, ye onmannerly young blaggard, I'd tell ye to go to the divil, but ye're on the way fast enough, an' bad luck to the fut I'll shtir to halt ye. Only I'm sorry for Burthey,' says she, 'wid her new gown made. When her brother comes back, begob 'tis he that'll be the death av ye immejitly afther he dhrops his two eyes on ye.'

"'Aisey now,' says Finn, 'if he opens his big mouth at me, I'll make him wondher why he wasn't born deef an' dumb,' says he, an' so he would, for all that he was so paceable.

"Afther that, phat was his mother to do but lave aff an' go to bed, that she done, givin' Finn all the talk in her head an' a million curses besides, for she was mightily vexed at bein' bate that way an' was in a divil av a timper along o' the house-clanin', that always puts wimmin into a shtate av mind.

"So the next day the news was towld, an' Finn got to be a holy show for the nabers, bekase av not marryin' Burthey an' wantin' the barmaid. They were afeared to say annything to himself about it, for he'd an arm on him the thick o' yer waist, an' no wan wanted to see how well he cud use it, but they'd whisper afther him, an' whin he wint along the road, they'd pint afther him, an' by an' by a giont like himself, an uncle av him, towld him he'd betther lave the counthry, an' so he thought he'd do an'

made ready for to shtart.

"But poor Burthey pined wid shame an' grief at the loss av him, for she loved him wid all the heart she had, an' that was purty big. So she fell aff her weight, till from the size av a hogs'ead she got no bigger round than a barrel an' was like to die. But all the time she kept on hopin'

that he'd come to her, but whin she heard for sartain he was goin' to lave the counthry she let go an' jumped aff that clift into the say an'

committed shooicide an' drownded herself. She wasn't turned into a pillar at all, that's wan o' thim guides' lies; she just drownded like annybody that fell into the wather would, an' was found afther an' berrid be the fishermen, an' a hard job av it they had, for she weighed a ton. But they called the place the Lovers' Lape, bekase she jumped from it, an' lovin'

Finn the way she did, the lape she tuk made the place be called afther her an' that's razon enough.

"Finn was s...o...b..gher enough afore, but afther that he seen it was no use thryin' for to live in Ireland at all, so he got the barmaid, that was aiquel to goin' wid him, the more that ivery wan was agin him, that's beway o' the conthrariness av wimmin, that are always ready for to do annything ye don't want thim to do, an' wint to Scotland an' wasn't heard av for a long time.

"About twelve years afther, there was a great talk that Finn had got back from Scotland wid his wife an' had taken the farm over be the village, the first on the left as ye go down the mountain. At first there was no end av the fuss that was, for Burthey's frinds hadn't forgotten, but it all come to talk, so Finn settled down quite enough an' wint to work. But he was an althered man. His hair an' beard were gray as a badger, so they called him the Gray Man, an' he'd a look on him like a shape-stalin' dog. Everybody wondhered, but they didn't wondher long, for it was aisely persaived he had cause enough, for the tongue o' Missis Finn wint like a stame-ingine, kapin' so far ahead av her branes that she'd have to shtop an' say 'an'-uh, an'-uh,' to give the latther time for to ketch up. Jagers, but she was the woman for to talk an' schold an' clack away till ye'd want to die to be rid av her. When she was young she was a purty nice girl, but as she got owlder her nose got sharp, her lips were as thin as the aidge av a sickle, an' her chin was as pinted as the bow av a boat. The way she managed Finn was beautiful to see, for he was that afeared av her tongue that he darn't say his sowl belonged to him when she was by.

"When he got up airly in the mornin', she'd ax, 'Now phat are ye raisin'

up so soon for, an' me just closin' me eyes in slape?' an' if he'd lay abed, she'd tell him to 'get along out o' that now, ye big gossoon; if it wasn't for me ye'd do nothin' at all but slape like a pig.' If he'd go out, she'd gosther him about where he was goin' an' phat he meant to do when he got there; if he shtayed at home, she'd raymark that he done nothin' but set in the cabin like a boss o' shtraw. When he thried for to plaze her, she'd grumble at him bekase he didn't thry sooner; when he let her be, she'd fall into a fury an' shtorm till his hair shtud up like it was bewitched it was.

"She'd more thricks than a showman's dog. If scholdin' didn't do for Finn, she'd cry at him, an' had tin childher that she larned to cry at him too, an' when she begun, the tin o' thim 'ud set up a yell that 'ud deefen a thrumpeter, so Finn 'ud give in.

"She cud fall ill on tin minnits notice, an' if Finn was obsthreperous in that degray that she cudn't do him no other way, she'd let on her head ached fit to shplit, so she'd go to bed an' shtay there till she'd got him undher her thumb agin. So she knew just where to find him whin she wanted him; that wimmin undhershtand, for there's more divilmint in wan woman's head about gettin' phat she wants than in tin men's bodies.

"Sure, if iver annybody had raison to remimber the ould song, "When I was single," it was Finn.

"So, ye see, Finn, the Gray Man, was afther havin' the divil's own time, an' that was beways av a mishtake he made about marryin'. He thought it was wan o' thim goold bands the quol'ty ladies wear on their arrums, but he found it was a handcuff it was. Sure wimmin are quare craythers. Ye think life wid wan o' thim is like a sunshiny day an' it's nothing but drizzle an' fog from dawn to dark, an' it's my belafe that Misther O'Day wasn't far wrong when he said wimmin are like the owld gun he had in the house an' that wint aff an the shly wan day an' killed the footman. 'Sure it looked innycent enough,' says he, 'but it was loaded all the same, an'

only waitin' for an axcuse to go aff at some wan, an' that's like a woman, so it is,' he'd say, an' ivery wan 'ud laugh when he towld that joke, for he was the landlord, 'that's like a woman, for she's not to be thrusted avin when she's dead.'

"But it's me own belafe that the most sarious mishtake av Finn's was in marryin' a little woman. There's thim that says all wimmin is a mishtake be nacher, but there's a big differ bechuxt a little woman an' a big wan, the little wans have sowls too big for their bodies, so are always lookin'

out for a big man to marry, an' the bigger he is, the betther they like him, as knowin' they can manage him all the aisier. So it was wid Finn an'

his little wife, for be hook an' be crook she rejuiced him in that obejince that if she towld him for to go an' shtand on his head in the corner, he'd do it wid the risk av his life, bekase he'd wanted to die an'

go to heaven as he heard the priest say there was no marryin' there, an'

though he didn't dare to hint it, he belaved in his sowl that the rayzon was the wimmin didn't get that far.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music: When I Was Single.]

"Afther they'd been living here about a year, Finn thought he'd fish a bit an' so help along, considherin' he'd a big family an' none o' the childher owld enough for to work. So he got a boat an' did purty well an' his wife used to come acra.s.s the hill to the sh.o.r.e to help him wid the catch. But it was far up an' down agin an' she'd get tired wid climbin' the hill an'

jawing at Finn on the way.

"So wan day as they were comin' home, they pa.s.sed a cabin an' there was the man that lived there, that was only a ditcher, a workin' away on the side av the hill down the path to the shpring wid a crowbar, movin' a big shtone, an' the shweat rollin' in shtrames aff his face.

"'G.o.d save ye,' says Finn to him.

"'G.o.d save ye kindly,' says he to Finn.

"'It's a bizzy man ye are,' says Finn.

"'Thrue for ye,' says the ditcher. 'It's along o' the owld woman. "The way to the shpring is too stape an' shtoney," says she to me, an' sure, I'm afther makin' it aisey for her.'

"'Ye're the kind av a man to have,' says Missis Finn, shpakin' up. 'Sure all wimmin isn't blessed like your wife,' says she, lookin' at Finn, who let on to laugh when he wanted to shwear. They had some more discoorse, thin Finn an' his wife wint on, but it put a big notion into her head. If the bogthrotter, that was only a little ottommy, 'ud go to work like that an' make an aisey path for his owld woman to the shpring, phat's the rayzon Finn cudn't fall to an' dig a path through the mountains, so she cud go to the say an' to the church on the sh.o.r.e widout breakin' her back climbin' up an' then agin climbin' down. 'T was the biggest consate iver in the head av her, an' she wasn't wan o' thim that 'ud let it cool aff for the want o' talkin' about it, so she up an' towld it to Finn, an' got afther him to do it. Finn wasn't aiger for to thry, bekase it was Satan's own job, so he held out agin all her scholdin' an' beggin' an' cryin'.

Then she got sick on him, wid her headache, an' wint to bed, an' whin Finn was about she'd wondher out loud phat she was iver born for an' why she cudn't die. Then she'd pray, so as Finn 'ud hear her, to all the saints to watch over her big gossoon av a husband an' not forget him just bekase he was a baste, an' if Finn 'ud thry to quiet her, she'd pray all the louder, an' tell him it didn't matther, she was dyin' an' 'ud soon be rid av him an' his brutal ways, so as Finn got half crazy wid her an' was ready to do annything in the worruld for to get her quiet.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Finn gave in an' wint to work wid a pick an' sphade"]

"Afther about a week av this thratemint, Finn give in an' wint to work wid a pick an' shpade on the Gray Man's Path. But thim that says he made it in wan night is ignerant, for I belave it tuk him a month at laste; if not more. So that's the thrue shtory av the Gray Man's Path, as me grandfather towld it, an' shows that a giont's size isn't a taste av help to him in a contist wid a woman's jaw.

"But to be fair wid her, I belave the onliest fault Finn's wife had was, she was possist be the divil, an' there's thim that thinks that's enough.

I mind me av a young felly wan time that was in love, an' so to be axcused, that wished he'd a hunderd tongues so to do justice to his swateheart. So afther that he marr'd her, an' whin they'd been marr'd a while an' she'd got him undher her fisht, says they to him, 'An' how about yer hunderd tongues?' 'Begorra,' says he to thim agin, 'wid a hunderd I'd get along betther av coorse than wid wan, but to be ayquel to the waggin'

av her jaw I'd nade a hunderd t'ousand.'

"So it's a consate I have that Missis Finn was not a haporth worse nor the rest o' thim, an' that's phat me grandfather said too, that had been marr'd twict, an' so knewn phat he was talkin' about. An' whin he towld the shtory av the Gray Man, he'd always end it wid a bit av poethry:-

"'The first rib did bring in ruin As the rest have since been doin'; Some be wan way, some another, Woman shtill is mischief's mother.

"'Be she good or be she avil, Be she saint or be she divil, Shtill unaisey is his life That is marr'd wid a wife.'"

SATAN AS A SCULPTOR.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Initial: "Satan as a Sculptor"]

Near one of the fishing villages which abound on the Clare coast, a narrow valley runs back from the sea into the mountains, opening between two precipices that, ages ago, were rent asunder by the forces of nature. On entering the valley by the road leading from the sea-sh.o.r.e, nothing can be seen but barren cliffs and craggy heights, covered here and there by patches of the moss peculiar to the country. After making some progress, the gorge narrows, the moss becomes denser on the overhanging rocks; trees, growing out of clefts in the precipices, unite their branches above the chasm, and shroud the depths, so that, save an hour or two at noon, the rays of the sun do not penetrate to the crystal brook, rippling along at the bottom over its bed of moss-covered pebbles,--now flashing white as it leaps down a declivity, now hiding itself under the overreaching ferns, now coming again into the light, but always hurrying on as though eager to escape from the dark, gloomy retreat, and, for a moment, enjoy the sunshine of the wider valley beyond before losing its life in the sea.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Barren Cliff]

At a narrow turn in the valley and immediately over the spot where the brook has its origin in a spring bursting out of a crevice in the rock and falling into a circular well partly scooped out, partly built up for the reception of the sparkling water, a cliff rises perpendicularly to the height of fifty feet, surmounted, after a break in the strata, by another, perhaps twenty feet higher, the upper portion being curiously wrought by nature's chisel into the shape of a human countenance. The forehead is shelving, the eyebrows heavy and menacing; the nose large and hooked like the beak of a hawk; the upper lip short, the chin prominent and pointed, while a thick growth of ferns in the shelter of the crag forming the nose gives the impression of a small mustache and goatee. Above the forehead a ma.s.s of tangled undergrowth and ferns bears a strong resemblance to an Oriental turban. An eye is plainly indicated by a bit of light-colored stone, and altogether the face has a sinister leer, that, in an ignorant age, might easily inspire the fears of a superst.i.tious people.

On a level with the chin and to the right of the face is the mouth of a cave, reached by a path up the hillside, rude steps in the rock rendering easier the steep ascent. The cave can be entered only by stooping, but inside a room nearly seven feet high and about twelve feet square presents itself. Undoubtedly the cave was once the abode of an anchorite, for on each side of the entrance a Latin cross is deeply carved in the rock, while within, at the further side, and opposite the door, a block of stone four feet high was left for an altar. Above it, a shrine is hollowed out of the stone wall, and over the cavity is another cross, surmounted by the mystic I. H. S.

The legend of the cave was told by an old "wise woman" of the neighborhood with a minuteness of detail that rendered the narrative more tedious than graphic. A devout believer in the truth of her own story, she told it with wonderful earnestness, combining fluency of speech with the intonations of oratory in such a way as to render the legend as interesting as a dramatic recitation.

"'T is the cave av the saint, but phat saint I'm not rightly sartain. Some say it was Saint Patrick himself, but 't is I don't belave that same. More say it was the blessed Saint Kevin, him that done owld King O'Toole out av his land in the bargain he made fur curin' his goose, but that's not thrue aither, an' it's my consate they're right that say it was Saint Tigernach, the same that built the big Abbey av Clones in Monaghan. His Riverince, Father Murphy, says that same, an' sorra a wan has a chance av knowin'