The Bunsby papers Part 36

Some, winged like b.u.t.terflies, disported around his head, and alighted upon his garments, pluming their bejewelled pinions and then darting off again.

"It's mighty quare that they don't give me a hint that I'm out of me element," thought Terry, as, emboldened by their pa.s.siveness, he gently took the leaf up in his hand, on which were dozens of them yet cl.u.s.tered; he held the fairy-laden leaf up to his eyes; still they kept gambolling about it; they overrun his fingers, and clambered up his sleeve, but no intimation did they give that Terry was of other material than one of the rocks by which they were surrounded; they invaded his face, examined his mouth, and peered into his eyes, yet there was no indication that his presence was acknowledged.

Resolving to test the matter at once, with an effort of courage, he rose up gradually, and looked around him; all was quiet.

"If any thing will make them spake, the pipes will," said he, bravely, and so, filling his chanter, he gave one preliminary blast, and finding that it met with no response, save from the distant echoes, that sent it sweeping back in multiplied reverberations, he commenced to play one of his most lauded planxtys; never had he satisfied himself better, but never had he exerted himself before a more unappreciative a.s.sembly; the universal fun and frolic went on as before.

His artistic self-love was sadly wounded. "The divil such a lot of stupid fairies did I ever hear tell of," said he, throwing down his pipes in disgust. "An' bad luck attend the grunt more yez'll get out o'

me; such elegant music as I've been threaten yez wid, an' the never an ear c.o.c.ked among the lot of yez."

"A thin, Misther Terry Magra," said the smallest possible kind of a voice, but which thrilled through the piper as though it were thunder-loud. "Shure, an' you're not goin' to concate that it's music you've been tearin' out ov them tree-stumps of yours; be the powers of war, it's a tom-cat I thought you wor squeezin' undher yer arms."

"Thank you, kindly, yer honor, for the compliment, whoever you are,"

replied Terry, when, on turning round to the quarter from whence the voice proceeded, he saw, sitting on the branch of a tree beside him, a diminutive piper, in all respects a perfect resemblance to himself; dressed in similar garments, even to the dilapidated _caubieen_, with an atom of a _dhudieen_ stuck in it; but what elicited his admiration most of all, was the weeny set of pipes the swaggering little ruffian carried on his arm.

"Your soul to glory," cried Terry, his excitement completely mastering his apprehension. "An' if you can blow any music out of them, I'll give in soon an' suddent."

"Howld yer prate, you ugly man, an' bad Christian," cried the little fellow; "sure, an' it's plinty of help I'll have;" with that, he put the bellows under his arm, and blew a blast that sounded like the whistle of a tom-t.i.t in distress; a signal which was quickly answered by similar sounds, issuing from all directions; and very soon Terry saw groups of little pipers climbing up the tree until the branch was fairly alive with them, each one an exact counterpart of the first.

"May I never sin if the sowls of all the Terry Magras, past, present, an' to come, ain't to the fore, it's my belief, this minnit," said the piper, in an ecstasy of amazement.

"We must graize our elbows before we begin, boys," said Terry's friend, producing a fairy bottle.

"Here's your health, Misther Terry Magra," says the little vagabond, with a ghost of a laugh; and up went the bottle to his head.

"Here's your health, Misther Terry Magra," they all repeated, as the real mountain dew went merrily round.

"Faix, an' it's glad enough I'd be to return thanks for the favor,"

said Terry, "if it's a thing that I had a toothful of sperrits to join yez in; more, betoken, I'm as drouthy as a sand-bag this blessed hour."

"Never be it said that a dhry Christian should keep cotton in his mouth, while we can give him a dhrop to wash it out," said the little piper, throwing his bottle at Terry.

"Bedad, it's a _dhrop_, sure enough, that I'll be suckin' out of this,"

said Terry, as he regarded the tiny atom that rested in the palm of his hand. "Bad 'cess to me, if a scooped-out duck-shot wouldn't howld more nourishment. I'm obleeged to you for your good intentions, any way, but I b'leeve I won't be robbin' you this time."

"Don't be refusin' your liquor, you fool," said the piping little chap, with a wicked look out of his mites of eyes. "I'll be bound that such liquor never tickled your throat before."

"Well, rather than appear onfriendly, I'll just go through the motions; so here's jolly good luck to yez all," said Terry, raising the pellet-like material to his lips, when, to his intense satisfaction and wonder, his mouth instantly filled up, and run over, with a perfect flood of such whisky as he owned never yet had blessed his palate; again and again he repeated the experiment, and with the like delicious result.

"Hollo! there, give me back my bottle, you thief of the world; would you ruin us, entirely?" cried the little piper. "If the blaggard wouldn't drink the say dhry, I'm not here."

"By the sowl of me mother," said Terry, with a loud smack of enjoyment, "if the say was made of such stuff as that, may I never, if I wouldn't change places wid a mermaid's husband, and flourish a fish's tail all the days of my life."

"But this has nothin' to do concarnin' the music," says the fairy, "so, here goes to show you how much you know about humorin' the pipes." So saying, the whole army of pipers set up a chant, so small, and yet so exquisitely sweet and harmonious, that Terry scarcely dared to breathe, for fear of losing the slightest echo of such bewitching strains.

"What do you say to that?" inquired the little fellow, when they had finished.

"Say to it," cried Terry, flinging his hat upon the ground in an ecstasy of delight; "what the mischief can I say? Bedad, there never was a mortial had the concate so complately licked out o' him as it's been deludhed out o' me at this present writin, an' to make my words good, av there was a bit of fire near, if I wouldn't make cindhers of that murdherin' ould catherwauler ov mine, I'm a gra.s.shopper."

"It does you credit to own up to it so readily, Terry Magra," said the head fairy, pleased enough at the compliment. "An', by the way of rewardin' you for that same, we'll give you a blast of another sort."

With that they turned to and executed a jig-tune, so swiftly-fingered, so lively and irresistibly _sole_-inspiring, that, with a wild scream of delight, Terry whipped off his great coat, and jumping on the level rock, went through the varied complications of the most intricate description of Irish dance.

"Murdher alive, av I only had a partner now," he cried. "Such elegant music, an' only one to be enjoyin' it." Faster and faster played the fairy pipers, and yet more madly Terry beat time upon the stone, making the mountains resound to his vociferous shouts, until exhausted at last, he jumped off, and sunk panting on the ground.

"Oh! _tear an' aigers_!" he cried, "an' av yez have a grain of compa.s.sion in thim insignificant tiniments of yours, fairies, darlin', won't yez lend us the loan of a pull out of that same bit of a bottle, for it's the seven senses that you've fairly batthered out o' me wid that rattlin' leg-teazer of a chune."

"Wid a heart an' a half, my hayro!" said the little piper, flinging Terry the fairy-bottle; "it's you that has the parliaminthary unction for the creather, if ever a sowl had. Don't be afeard of it, it won't hurt a feather of you, no more nor wather on a duck's back."

Thus encouraged, Terry lifted his elbow considerably, before he thought it prudent to desist, the fairy liquor appearing more delicious with each gulp, when, all at once--for Terry had a tolerable share of acuteness for a piper--the thought struck him that the little schemers might have a motive in thus plying him with such potential stuff.

"If you're at all inclined for a nap, Terry, my boy," said the fairy, blandly, "there's a lovely bank of moss fornent you, that'll beat the best feather-bed at the Globe Inn, in the town of Clonmel. Stretch yourself on it, _aroon_, an' we'll keep watch over you as tindherly as av your own mother was hangin' over yer cradle."

"Ho! ho! is it there yez are, you sootherin' vagabonds," said Terry to himself. "It's off o' my guard you want to ketch me, eh?" He was determined, however, to diplomatize, so he replied, with equal politeness, "It's thankful that I am to yer honors for the invite, but I wouldn't be makin' such a hole in my manners as to let a wink come on me in such iligant company."

"Oh, well, just as you like, Terry Magra," observed the fairy, with just enough of lemon in his tone to convince Terry that his surmise was correct. "At all events, if you're not sleepy now, you soon will be,"

the little fellow continued, "so, when you are, you will lie down without fear. In the meantime, we must go and inform our king how famously we've amused you, and what a fine fellow you are." So saying, with a sharp little squeal of a laugh, that Terry thought carried with it a sufficiency of sarcasm, the little piper and his companions rapidly descended from their perch, and vanished from his sight.

No sooner had they departed when Terry's ears were saluted by a singularly delightful buzzing noise, that, in spite of his endeavor to resist it, caused a growing drowsiness to steal over him. The declining daylight deepened into a still more roseate hue. Once or twice his eyelids drooped, but he recovered himself with a vigorous effort.

"By the ghost of Moll Kelly," he cried, "I'm a lost mutton, as sure as eggs is chickens, if the sleep masthers me; the pipes is my only chance." So saying, he shook off the slumberous sensation, and, seizing the instrument, blazed out into a stormy attack upon "Garryowen," and, sure enough, something like a distant groan, as of disappointment, reached him at the very first snore of the chanter.

"Ha! ha!" he exclaimed, "it isn't an omadhaun all out yez has to dale wid this time, you little rascals, as cunnin' as ye think yerselves.

Bedad, it won't do me any harm to make use of my eyes hereabouts; who knows but I may light atop of a fairy threasure, and drive the imptiness out of my pocket for ever and ever."

With this determination, the bold piper proceeded to investigate the character of the ground in his immediate neighborhood. For a short time he saw nothing remarkable except the circ.u.mstance of the whole surroundings being alive with fairies, to whose presence he was becoming more and more habituated; occasionally he would pause in his search to view with admiration the energetic way in which a group of workers attended to their specific duties. Observing at one time a more than usual commotion, he was led to give the affair particular scrutiny, when he discovered that it was the scene of a most animated contest between two distinct bodies of supernaturals.

An infant lily-of-the-valley was just raising its head above the yielding earth, softened and broken to a.s.sist its upward progress, by scores of busy atomies. Numbers showered its tender leaf with refreshing dew--procured, as Terry observed, by plunging into the hollow cup of some st.u.r.dy neighboring flower, then flying back to their charge, and shaking the nutritious drops from their wings--others, with mechanical ingenuity, held gla.s.ses by which they could concentrate the pa.s.sing sunbeams upon the spot, when necessary; while others drove there with their united pinions the stray breezes, whose invigorating breath was needed.

While Terry was rapt in the delightful contemplation of this curious scene, all at once he saw that there was something of uncommon interest going on amongst the crowd. He observed, in the first instance, that although the labor was not for a moment suspended, yet a solid phalanx of armed fairies had formed about the immediate workers. The reason was soon obvious, for, careering round and round, or darting to and fro in zigzag courses almost as swiftly as the lightning itself, was an enormous dragon-fly, carrying on its glistening back a diminutive form of a brilliant green color, that flashed in the glancing light like living emerald. Wherever there was a tender young plant there its fierce attack was directed, and in all cases repelled by the brave little guardians.

This terrible monster--as it appeared even in Terry's eyes, when compared with the tiny creatures that surrounded him--seemed to have singled out the fragile lily-of-the-valley for its especial ferocity, for again and again it darted furiously against the unyielding defenders, only, however, to be repulsed at each charge, writhing and twisting its snaky body, punctured by the thorn-bayonets of the fairy-guard.

The indomitable courage and resolution of the defence at length prevailed, and after a last ineffectual effort to break through the chevaux-de-frise that protected the beleaguered flower, the dreadful enemy wheeled angrily two or three times around the spot, and at length darted upwards rapidly, and disappeared, to the manifest delight of the fairies. Soon, however, a yet more formidable danger threatened, for in the distance there approached a gigantic snail, dragging its noxious slime over every thing in its destructive path. Terry now observed evidences of the most intense solicitude and perturbation. The guard around the flower was trebled, scouts seemed to be called in from all quarters, hastening to a common rendezvous. Meantime the snail moved on in a direct line with the object of their care and anxiety.

"Now my fine fellows," said Terry, completely absorbed in the interesting scene, "how the mischief are yez goin' to manage that customer?"

Nearer and nearer crawled the snail, and at every onward movement the little crowd grew more agitated, scampering here and there, and overrunning each other in a perfect agony of apprehension and excitement, like a disturbed colony of ants. Mult.i.tudes of them cleared the small stumps of decayed gra.s.s, and rolled off the pebbles from a side path, in the hope of diverting Mr. Snail's course; but their engineering skill was fruitless--still on he came, crushing every delicate germ in his progress. He was now only about six inches away from the lily, and the trepidation of the fairies became so excessive, that it smote upon Terry's heart. He forgot for a moment or two that he himself was the arbiter of their fate.

"Mother o' Moses," said he; "it's afeared I am that yez goin' to get the worst of the fight, this time; heigh! at him agin, yer sowls," he shouted, clapping his hands by way of encouragement, as a crowd would try to push the snail from the direct path.

"Where's yer sinse, you little blaggards? why don't yez all get together, and you'd soon tumble the murdherin' Turk over."

Despair seemed to be spreading through the fairy ranks, when it suddenly occurred to Terry that it was in his own power to put an end to their fears at once, by removing the cause; another, and more personal idea flashing across his mind at the same time.

"Why, then, bad 'cess to this thick skull o' mine," said he, as he picked up the snail and hurled it to a distance. "It well becomes me to be stickin' here, watchin' the antics of these little ragam.u.f.fins, instead of mindin' my own business of threasure-huntin';" so, without waiting to see what effect his timely interference had upon the supernals, he commenced vigorously to prosecute his search.

For some time he diligently explored the crevices and deep hollows on the mountain's side, without finding the slightest indication to stimulate his exertions; one particular opening, however, he was loathe to penetrate; the insects were so numerous therein, and flew so spitefully against his face, that, although it evidently extended to some distance into the heart of the mountain, again and again he was driven from his purpose of ascertaining that fact by the pertinacity of the annoying creatures; now, a prodigious horned beetle would bang sharply against his cheek; anon, he would be entirely surrounded by a cloud of wasps, through which he had to fight his way l.u.s.tily.

Thrice had he entered the cavity, and having been ignominiously driven back each time, had determined to give up the effort to penetrate further. "Faix, an' it's mighty quare, entirely," said he, "that this is the only spot in the place that's so throubled with the varmint: it's my belief there's somethin' in that, too," he continued, a new light seeming to break upon him; "what should they be here for, more nor at any other openin', unless it was to keep strangers from inthrudin'? May I never, if I don't think that same hole in the rock is the turnpike-gate to somethin' surprizin' in the way of a fairy road; here goes to thry, anyway, in spite of the singin' and stingin'."