The Hedge School; The Midnight Mass; The Donagh Part 13

"What is that, Barny?"

"Well, but can yez keep a sacret? Can yez, girls?"

"Faix can we, Barny, achora."

"Well, so can I--ha, ha, ha! Now, are,yez sarved? Come, let me to the hob."

"Here, Barny; I'll lead you, Barny."

"No, I _have_ him; come, Barny, I'll lead you: here, achora, this is the spot--that's it. Why, Barny," said the arch girl, as she placed him in the corner, "sorra one o' the hob but knows you: it never stirs--ha, ha, ha!"

"Throth, a colleen, that tongue o' yours will delude some one afore long, if it hasn't done so already."

"But how is Granua Waile, Barny?"

"Poor Granua is it? Faith, times is hard wid her often. 'Granua,' says I to her 'what do you say, acushla? we're axed to go to two or three places to-day--what do you say? Do you lead, an' I'll follow: your will is my pleasure.' 'An' where are we axed to?' says Granua, sinsible enough. 'Why,' says I, 'to Paddy Lanigan's, to Mike Hartigan's, to Jack Lynch's, an' at the heel o' the hunt, to Frank M'Kenna's, of the Mountain Bar.' 'By my song,' says she, 'you may go where you plase; as for me, I'm off to Frank M'Kenna's, one of the dacentest men in Europe, an' his wife the same. Divil a toe I'll set a waggin' in any other place this night,' says she; 'for 'tis there we're both well thrated wid the best the house can afford. So,' says she, 'in the name of all that's musical, you're welcome to the poker an' tongs anywhere else; for me, I'm off to Frank's.' An' faith, sure enough, she took to her pumps; an'

it was only comin' over the hill there, that young Frank an' I overtuck her: divil a lie in it."

In fact, Barney, besides being a fiddler, was a senachie of the first water; could tell a story, or trace a genealogy as well as any man living, and draw the long bow in either capacity much better than he could in the practice of his more legitimate profession.

"Well, here she is, Barny, to the fore," said the aforesaid arch girl, "an' now give us a tune."

"What!" replied the farithee, "is it wid-out either aitin' or dhrinkin'?

Why, the girsha's beside herself! Alley, aroon, get him the linin'* an'

a sup to tighten his elbow."

* Linin'--lining, so eating and drinking are often humorously termed by the people.

The good woman instantly went to provide refreshments for the musician.

"Come, girls," said Barny, "will yez get me a scythe or a handsaw."

"A scythe or a handsaw! eh, then what to do, Barny?"

"Why, to pare my nails, to be sure," replied Barny, with a loud laugh; "but stay--come back here--I'll make shift to do wid a pair of scissors this bout.

"'The parent finds his sons, The tutherer whips them; The nailer makes his nails, The fiddler clips them.'"

Wherever Barny came there was mirth, and a disposition to be pleased, so that his jokes always told.

"Musha, the sorra _pare_ you, Barny," said one of the girls; "but there's no bein' up to you, good or bad."

"The sorra _pair_ me, is it? faix, Nancy, you'll soon be paired yourself wid some one, avourneen. Do you know a sartin young man wid a nose on him runnin' to a point like the pin of a sun-dial, his knees brakin' the king's pace, strikin' one another ever since he was able to walk, an'

that was about four years afther he could say his Father Nosther; an'

faith, whatever you may think, there's no makin' them paceable except by puttin' between them! The wrong side of his shin, too, is foremost; an' though the one-half of his two feet is all heels, he keeps the same heels for set days an' bonfire nights, an' savinly walks on his ankles.

His leg, too, Nancy, is stuck in the middle of his foot, like a poker in a pick-axe; an', along wid all--"

"Here, Barny, thry your hand at this," said the good woman, who had not heard his ludicrous description of her fict.i.tious son-in-law--"_eeh arran agus bee laudher_, Barny, _ate bread and be strong_. I'll warrant when you begin to play, they'll give you little time to do anything but sc.r.a.pe away;--taste the dhrink first, anyway, in the name o' G.o.d,"--and she filled him a gla.s.s.

"Augh, augh! faith you're the moral of a woman. Are you there, Frank M'Kenna?--here's a sudden disholution to your family! May they be scattered wid all speed--manin' the girls--to all corners o' the parish!--ha, ha, ha! Well, that won't vex them, anyhow; an' next, here's a merry Chris'mas to us, an' many o' them! Whooh! blur-an'-age! whooh!

oh, by gorra!--that's--that's--Frank run afther my breath--I've lost it--run, you tory: oh, by gor, that's stuff as sthrong as Sampson, so it is. Arrah, what well do you dhraw that from? for, faith, 'twould be mighty convanient to live near it in a hard frost."

Barny was now silent for some time, which silence was produced by the industry he displayed in a.s.sailing the substantial refreshments before him. When he had concluded his repast he once more tasted the liquor; after which he got Granua Waile, and continued playing their favorite tunes, and amusing them with anecdotes, both true and false, until the hour drew nigh when his services were expected by the young men and maidens who had a.s.sembled to dance in the barn. Occasionally, however, they took a preliminary step in which they were joined by few of their neighbors. Old Frank himself felt his spirits elevated by contemplating the happiness of his children and their young a.s.sociates.

"Frank," said he, to the youngest of his sons, "go down to Owen Reillaghan's, and tell him an' his family to come up to the dance early in the evenin'. Owen's a pleasant man," he added, "and a good neighbor, but a small thought too strict in his duties. Tell him to come up, Frank, airly, I say; he'll have time enough to go to the Midnight Ma.s.s afther dancin' the 'Rakes of Ballyshanny,' and 'the Baltihorum jig;' an'

maybe he can't do both in style!"

"Ay," said Frank, in a jeering manner, "he carries a handy heel at the dancin', and a soople tongue at the prayin'; but let him alone for bringin' the bottom of his gla.s.s and his eyebrow acquainted. But if he'd pray less--"

"Go along, a _veehonce_, (* you profligate) an' bring him up," replied the father: "you to talk about prayin'! Them that 'ud catch you at a prayer ought to be showed for the world to wondher at: a man wid two heads an him would be a fool to him. Go along, I say, and do what you're bid."

"I'm goin'," said Frank. "I'm off; but what if he doesn't come? I'll then have my journey for nothin'."

"An' it's good payment for any journey ever you'll make, barrin' it's to the gallows," replied the father, nearly provoked at his reluctance in obeying him: "won't you have dancin' enough in the coorse o' the night, for you'll not go to the Midnight Ma.s.s, and why don't you be off wid you at wanst?"

Frank shrugged his shoulders two or three times, being loth to leave the music and dancing; but on seeing his father about to address him in sharper language, he went out with a frown on his brows, and a half-smothered imprecation bursting from his lips.

He had not proceeded more than a few yards from the door, when he met Rody Teague, his father's servant, on his way to the kitchen. "Rody,"

said he, "isn't this a purty business? My father wantin' to send me down to Owen Reillaghan's; when, by the vartue o' my oath, I'd as soon go half way into h.e.l.l, as to any place where his son, Mike Reillaghan, 'ud be. How will I manage, Rody?"

"Why," replied Rody, "as to meetin' wid Mike, take my advice and avoid him. And what is more I'd give up Peggy Gartland for good. Isn't it a mane thing for you, Frank, to be hangin' afther a girl that's fonder of another than she is of yourself. By this and by that, I'd no more do it--avvouh! catch me at it--I'd have s.p.u.n.k in me."

Frank's brow darkened as Rody spoke; instead of instantly replying', he was silent and appeared to be debating some point in his own mind, on which he had not come to a determination.

"My father didn't hear of the fight between Mike and me?" said he, interrogatively--"do you think he did, Rody?"

"Not to my knowledge," replied the servant; "if he did, he wouldn't surely send you down; but talking of the fight, you are known to be a stout, well-fought boy--no doubt of that--still, I say, you had no right to provoke Mike as you did, who, it's well known, could bate any two men in the parish; and so sign, you got yourself dacently trounced, about a girl that doesn't love a bone in your skin."

"He disgraced me, Rody," observed Frank--"I can't rise my head; and you know I was thought, by all the parish, as good a man as him. No, I wouldn't, this blessed Christmas Eve above us, for all that ever my name was worth, be disgraced by him as I am. But--hould, man--have patience!"

"Throth and, Frank, that's what you never had," said Eody; "and as to bein' disgraced, you disgraced yourself. What right had you to challenge the boy to fight, and to strike him into the bargain, bekase Peggy Gartland danced with him, and wouldn't go out wid you? Death alive, sure that wasn't his fault."

Every word of reproof which proceeded from Rody's lips but strengthened Frank's rage, and added to his sense of shame; he looked first in the direction of Reillaghan's house, and immediately towards the little village in which Peggy Gartland lived.

"Rody," said he, slapping him fiercely on the shoulder, "go in--I've--I've made up my mind upon what I'll do; go in, Eody, and get your dinner; but don't be out of the way when I come back."

"And what have you made up your mind to?" inquired Eody.

"Why, by the sacred Mother o' Heaven, Rody, to--to--be friends wid Mike."

"Ay, there's sinse and rason in that," replied Eody; "and if you'd take my advice you'd give up Peggy Gartland, too."

"I'll see you when I come back, Eody; don't be from about the place."

And as he spoke, a single spring brought him over the stile at which they held the foregoing conversation.

On advancing, he found himself in one of his father's fields, under the shelter of an elder-hedge. Here he paused, and seemed still somewhat uncertain as to the direction in which he should proceed. At length he decided; the way towards Peggy Gartland's was that which he took, and as he walked rapidly, he soon found himself at the village in which she lived.

It was now a little after twilight; the night was clear the moon being in her first quarter, and the clouds through which she appeared to struggle, were light and fleecy, but rather cold-looking, such, in short, as would seem to promise a sudden fall of snow. Frank had pa.s.sed the two first cabins of the village, and was in the act of parrying the attacks of some yelping cur that a.s.sailed him, when he received a slap on the back, accompanied by a _gho manhi Dhea gliud, a Franchas, co wul thu guilh a nish, a rogora duh_?*