"""They think they are," ses he. "But who"s to know whether they are or not? The Protestants would eat fish every day of the week, if they could get it, but the Catholics will only eat it on Fridays, and wouldn"t eat it then if they could help it. And moreover, the Protestants have all the good jobs in Ireland and the United States, but for choice, "tis a Freemason I"d be myself, if I could."
"""That"s not the question at all," ses I. "Are you, or are you not, going to bring me to the sh.o.r.e?"
"""Well, I"m about sick and tired of you now, anyway," ses he, "so sit up on my back, and I"ll land you at the Old Head of Kinsale." And sure enough he kept his word, and I was landed high and dry on the rocks of my native parish in less time than you"d take to lace your shoe. And all he said as he went his way was: "Good-by, now, and don"t forget all I told you. I have an invitation to lunch at the Canary Islands, and I"ll be late if I don"t hurry." And with that, he plunged beneath a breaker, and that was the last I ever saw of the fish who ate my leg off, and made me a cripple for life."
""And did you keep your promise?" ses I to the man with the wooden leg, when he had finished his story."
""No," ses the man with the wooden leg, "but instead, I swore ten thousand holy oaths that I would eat nothing but fish, if I lived to be as old as Batty Hayes"s old goat. And that"s why I am always so thirsty.""
"Bedad, but that"s a queer story, surely," said Padna. "I suppose the fish would have eaten his other leg off, only it might spoil his appet.i.te for lunch."
"Very likely," said Micus.
"Well, I don"t believe I could beat that for a yarn," said Padna.
"I wouldn"t try, if I were you," said Micus.
THE HERMIT OF THE GROVE
"What do you think of the weather?" said Padna Dan to Micus Pat, as he leaned over the half-door, and looked up at the sky.
"Oh," said Micus, as he struck a match on the heel of his shoe, "I think we will have a fine day, that"s if it don"t either rain or snow. And snow and rain inself is better than a drought, that would parch the whole countryside, and bleach every blade of gra.s.s in the fields as white as linen."
"The two things in life you can never depend on," said Padna, "are women and the weather. But as the hermit of Deirdre"s Grove said to me the other day, when I happened upon him as he was strolling about looking for something he never lost: "Every season," ses he, "has its own particular charm, and we all have our faults as well as our virtues."
"And what kind of a man was he at all, to be looking for something he never lost?" said Micus.
"He was a man just like one of ourselves. Sure that"s what we all do, from the day we open our eyes until we close them again upon the world," said Padna.
"I never knew that there was a hermit in Deirdre"s Grove," said Micus.
"Neither did I," said Padna, "until one day last week when I went looking for hazel-nuts for the grandchildren, and I came upon a man of strange appearance, and he with long flowing beard, dark black curly hair, and a physique surpa.s.sing anything I have seen for many a day. His general demeanour was very impressive indeed, and a kindly look lit up his well-chiseled face. As I approached him, I wondered what manner of man he was, but he was first to break the silence. And what he said was: "Good morrow, stranger," ses he.
""Good morrow and good luck," ses I.
""May the blessing of G.o.d be with you," ses he.
""May the blessing of G.o.d be with us all," ses I.
""Amen to that," ses he.
""Amen, amen!" ses I.
""Would you mind telling me what day of the year is it, and what year of the century is it, if you please?" ses he.
""I can easily tell you that," ses I, "but I couldn"t tell you the time of day if you were to make me as gay as a sprite, as blithe as a lark, and as nimble and fresh as a hare in the month of March. This is St. Crispin"s Day," ses I, "and every shoemaker in Christendom who knows how to enjoy himself will be as drunk as a lord before the sun goes down."
""I wouldn"t blame them for getting drunk," ses he, "for hammering on the sole of a shoe from daylight to dark is no way for a man to enjoy himself. But now," ses he, "if you want to know the time of day, I can tell you that."
""Of course, I"d like to know the time of day," ses I.
""All right," ses he, "come along." And then we walked to a sun-splashed glade, and he looked up at the sun itself, and turned to me, and ses, with the greatest gentleness: ""Tis just a quarter to twelve," ses he.
""That"s a wonderful clock you have," ses I.
"""Tis the most wonderful clock in all the world, and never once ran down since it was set a-going long ago before Adam was a boy," ses he.
""But "tisn"t every one can tell you the time of day by it," ses I.
""I know that," ses he. "And "tisn"t every one who can tell you all the other things they should know, and "tisn"t every one who can forget all the things not worth remembering," ses he.
""That"s true," ses I, "and if we could only remember all that is good for us, and forget all that is bad for us, we needn"t go to any one for advice. But we either remember too much, or forget too much, and that"s why there is so much discontent and trouble everywhere. However, be that as it may, I"d like to know how you manage to enjoy yourself in this eerie place without any one to keep you company," ses I.
""I don"t want company," ses he, "because I came here to get rid of myself."
""Are you a married man?" ses I.
""No," ses he, "I escaped."
""That"s a strange state of affairs," ses I. "Sure I always thought that the only way a man could get rid of himself was to get lost, so to speak, in the highways and byways of matrimony, and that he would be so busy trying to please his wife and children that he wouldn"t have any time to think of himself."
""There are more ways of killing a dog than by making him commit suicide," ses he.
""That"s so," ses I. "And there are more ways of getting drunk than paying for what you drink. And many a man can"t feel natural at all, until he is so blind drunk that he don"t know what he does be saying."
""Yes," ses he, "and a man might live without working if he could get any one to support him. But no matter what happens, time and the world rolls by as indifferently as though there was nothing worth bothering about. And after all," ses he, "what is the world but a whirling ma.s.s of inconsistencies, and everything changes but man. He has no more sense now than ever he had. And more"s the pity, for women are as deceitful as ever."
""But you haven"t told me how you succeeded in getting rid of yourself?" ses I.
""Well," ses he, "I only got rid of myself, in a measure, of course, by escaping from the thralls of convention, and coming to live the life of a recluse in this shady and lonely grove. And while I am here, "tis consoling to know that I cannot injure anybody by doing them good turns, nor can I be of any a.s.sistance to them by being their enemies. A decent enemy," ses he, "oftentimes is worth ten thousand friends, who would only do you a kindness for the sake of talking about it afterwards. But the best and most charitable way to behave towards those who try to injure you is to treat them one and all with silent contempt. That will hurt them more than anything else. The tongue may cut like a scissors, but silence gives the deepest wound."
""That was well spoken for a lonely man," ses I.
""There are worse things than loneliness," ses he, "and, strictly speaking, we never feel really lonesome until we find ourselves in the midst of a crowd. And we are never in better company than when we take our place among the trees of a glorious forest like this, where nature has so plentifully bestowed her choicest gifts. I never felt lonesome since I left the noise of the cities behind me, and as I lie awake on my couch at night, I ever long for the morning, so that I may hear the birds on the wing and the birds on the branches singing their praises to the Lord. Aye, and I never tire of watching the rabbit and the weasel, the fox and the hare, or listening to the droning of the bee," ses he.
""To live close to and feel the divine influence of nature must be a wonderful thing surely, but I am sorry to say that "tis the ugly in nature that interests me more than anything else, and the sting of a bee or a mosquito affects me more than the beauty of the sunset,"
ses I.
""Why, man alive," ses he, "there"s nothing ugly in nature. And the sting of an insect, like the slur of a friend, is a thing to be forgotten and not remembered. But for all that, insects with the capacity for causing annoyance have their uses. And those who never lift their eyes to the skies, so to speak, to look at other worlds than their own, will never feel lonesome while they have bees, wasps, and mosquitoes to torment them."
"""Tis the devil of a thing," ses I, "when you come to think of it, that man can never really enjoy himself. When his wife or daughters, as the case may be, stop nagging at him, his friends commence to turn on him, or the wild animals of the earth, such as bugs and mosquitoes, will try to drive him to desperation."