Pipes O'Pan At Zekesbury Part 15

"Keep what up?" I queried, in a perfect maze of bewilderment and surprise. "Keep what up?" I repeated.

"Why, all this twaddle, farce, travesty and by-play regarding Tommy!

You know I warned you, over and over, and you mustn't blame me for the deception. I never thought you'd take it so in earnest!" and here the jovial Major again went into convulsions of laughter.

"But I don't understand a word of it all," I cried, half frenzied with the gnarl and tangle of the whole affair. "What 'twaddle, farce and by-play,' is it anyhow?" And in my vexation, I found myself on my feet and striding nervously up and down the paved walk that joined the street with the piazza, pausing at last and confronting the Major almost petulantly. "Please explain," I said, controlling my vexation with an effort.

The Major arose. "Your striding up and down there reminds me that a little stroll on the street might do us both good," he said. "Will you wait until I get a coat and hat?"

He rejoined me a moment later, and we pa.s.sed through the open gate; and saying, "Let's go down this way," he took my arm and turned into a street, where, cooling as the dusk was, the thick maples lining the walk, seemed to throw a special shade of tranquility upon us.

"What I meant was"--began the Major, in low, serious voice,--"What I meant was--simply this: Our friend Tommy, though the truest Irishman in the world, is a man quite the opposite everyway of the character he has appeared to you. All that rich brogue of his is a.s.sumed. Though he's poor, as I told you, when he came here, his native quickness, and his marvelous resources, tact, judgment, business qualities--all have helped him to the equivalent of a liberal education. His love of the humorous and the ridiculous is unbounded; but he has serious moments, as well, and at such times is as dignified and refined in speech and manner as any man you'd find in a thousand. He is a good speaker, can stir a political convention to fomentation when he gets fired up; and can write an article for the press that goes spang to the spot. He gets into a great many personal encounters of a rather undignified character; but they are almost invariably bred of his innate interest in the 'under dog,' and the fire and tow of his impetuous nature."

My companion had paused here, and was looking through some printed slips in his pocket-book. "I wanted you to see some of the fellow's articles in print, but I have nothing of importance here--only some of his 'doggerel,' as he calls it, and you've had a sample of that. But here's a bit of the upper spirit of the man--and still another that you should hear him recite. You can keep them both if you care to. The boys all fell in love with that last one, particularly, hearing his rendition of it. So we had a lot printed, and I have two or three left. Put these two in your pocket and read at your leisure."

But I read them there and then, as eagerly, too, as I append them here and now. The first is called--

SAYS HE.

"Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be, It's plaze, if ye will, an' I'll say me say,-- Supposin' to-day was the winterest day, Wud the weather be changing because ye cried, Or the snow be gra.s.s were ye crucified?

The best is to make your own summer," says he, "Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be!

"Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be, It's the songs ye sing, an' the smiles ye wear, That's a-makin' the sunshine everywhere, An' the world of gloom is a world of glee, Wid the bird in the bush, an' the bud in the tree, An' the fruit on the stim of the bough," says he, "Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be!

"Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be, Ye can bring the Spring, wid its green an' gold, An' the gra.s.s in the grove where the snow lies cold, An' ye'll warm yer back, wid a smiling face, As ye sit at yer heart like an owld fire-place, An' toast the toes o' yer soul," says he, "Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be!"

"Now" said the Major, peering eagerly above my shoulder, "go on with the next.

To my liking, it is even better than the first.

A type of character you'll recognize.--The same 'broth of a boy,' only _Americanized_, don't you know."

And I read the sc.r.a.p ent.i.tled--

CHAIRLEY BURKE.

It's Chairley Burke's in town, b'ys! He's down til "Jamesy's Place,"

Wid a bran' new shave upon 'um, an' the fhwhuskers aff his face; He's quit the Section Gang last night, and yez can chalk it down, There's goin' to be the divil's toime, sence Chairley Burke's in town.

It's treatin' iv'ry b'y he is, an' poundin' on the bar Till iv'ry man he 's drinkin' wid must shmoke a foine cigar; An' Missus Murphy's little Kate, that's comin' there for beer, Can't pay wan cint the bucketful, the whilst that Chairley's here!

He's joompin' oor the tops o' sthools, the both forninst an' back!

He'll lave yez pick the blessed flure, an' walk the straightest crack!

He's liftin' barrels wid his teeth, and singin' "Garry Owen,"

Till all the house be strikin' hands, sence Chairley Burke's in town.

The Road-Yaird hands comes dhroppin' in, an' niver goin' back; An' there 's two freights upon the switch--the wan on aither track-- An' Mr. Gearry, from The Shops, he's mad enough to swear, An' durst n't spake a word but grin, the whilst that Chairley's there!

Oh! Chairley! Chairley! Chairley Burke! ye divil, wid yer ways O' dhrivin' all the throubles aff, these dark an' gloomy days!

Ohone! that it's meself, wid all the griefs I have to drown, Must lave me pick to resht a bit, sence Chairley Burke's in town!

"Before we turn back, now," said the smiling Major, as I stood lingering over the indefinable humor of the last refrain, "before we turn back I want to show you something eminently characteristic. Come this way a half dozen steps."

As he spoke I looked up, to first observe that we had paused before a handsome square brick residence, centering a beautiful smooth lawn, its emerald only littered with the light gold of the earliest autumn leaves. On either side of the trim walk that led up from the gate to the carved stone ball.u.s.ters of the broad piazza, with its empty easy chairs, were graceful vases, frothing over with late blossoms, and wreathed with laurel-looking vines; and, luxuriantly lacing the border of the pave that turned the further corner of the house, blue, white and crimson, pink and violet, went fading in perspective as my gaze followed the gesture of the Major's.

"Here, come a little further. Now do you see that man there?"

Yes, I could make out a figure in the deepening dusk--the figure of a man on the back stoop--a tired looking man, in his shirt-sleeves, who sat upon a low chair--no, not a chair--an empty box. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and the hands dropped limp. He was smoking, too, I could barely see his pipe, and but for the odor of very strong tobacco, would not have known he had a pipe. Why does the master of the house permit his servants to so desecrate this beautiful home? I thought.

"Well, shall we go now?" said the Major.

I turned silently and we retraced our steps. I think neither of us spoke for the distance of a square.

"Guess you didn't know the man there on the back porch?" said the Major.

"No; why?" I asked dubiously.

"I hardly thought you would, and besides the poor fellow's tired, and it was best not to disturb him," said the Major.

"Why; who was it--some one I know?"

"It was Tommy."

"Oh," said I, inquiringly, "he's employed there in some capacity?"

"Yes, as master of the house."

"You don't mean it?"

"I certainly do. He owns it, and made every cent of the money that paid for it!" said the Major proudly. "That's why I wanted you particularly to note that 'eminent characteristic' I spoke of. Tommy could just as well be sitting, with a fine cigar, on the front piazza in an easy chair, as, with his dhudeen, on the back porch, on an empty box, where every night you'll find him. Its the unconscious dropping back into the old ways of his father, and his father's father, and his father's father's father. In brief, he sits there the poor lorn symbol of the long oppression of his race."

RAGWEED AND FENNEL

WHEN MY DREAMS COME TRUE.

I.