""That"s so," ses he. "And maybe your wife might be in love with the man next door, or across the street, or some one away in the wilds of Africa, Australia, or America, or she may be in love with some one who"s dead and gone, or some good-looking stranger who came into her life for a day or a week and went out of it for ever. Women can keep their own secrets," ses he. "They don"t tell us all they think, and very often when they say no, they mean yes. You have a lot to learn,"
ses he.
""Maybe I have," ses I. "But "tis as bad for a man to know too much or too little, as to know nothing at all, I"m thinking."
""Maybe it is," ses he.
""And when are you going to wed the lady in the moon? Is it when she comes down from the sky?" ses I.
""No," ses he, "but when she comes up from the lake." And then a large dark cloud floated past and the lady of the moon was seen no more that night."
""Tis about time we went indoors," said Padna.
""Tis," said Micus. "The Angelus is ringing, and I"m feeling hungry."
A BARGAIN OF BARGAINS
A blue haze hung on the distant hills when Padna Dan looked pensively from the landscape to his watch, and said to his friend Micus Pat, who stood by his side: "The world is surely a wonderful and a beautiful place as well; but it would seem as though there were wings on the feet of time, so quickly does night follow day."
"Time is the barque that carries us from the cradle to the grave, and leaves us on the sh.o.r.es of the other world alone," said Padna. "And as my poor mother used to say:
Time, like youth, will have its fling, And of a beggar make a king; And of a king a beggar make, Merely for a joke"s sake.
Time indeed brings many changes. Cromwell made peasants of the Irish gentry, and America made gentry of the Irish peasantry, and awful sn.o.bs some of them became too! But a whit for sn.o.bbery, for what is it but an adjunct of prosperity, like gout, which disappears again with adversity."
"Sn.o.bbery at best is a foolish thing," said Micus.
"But when we consider the unimportance of our own troubles, and the importance of the princ.i.p.al parts of the British Empire, such as Ireland, England, Scotland, Australia and T. P. O"Connor, our insignificance looms up before our gaze, and almost strikes us in the face, so to speak."
"And "tis surprising it doesn"t obliterate us altogether," said Padna. "However, let us forget Tay Pay O"Connor for a little while, as he will never do so himself, and I will tell you a story about one Cormac McShane from the townland of Ballinderry."
"On with the story; I am always glad to hear tell of some one worth talking about," said Micus.
"Well," said Padna, "Cormac was as fine a looking man as ever broke his promises. And unless you had great astuteness of observation, and an eye like a hawk or a landlady, you wouldn"t see the likes of him in a twelvemonth, even though you might be gallivanting through the streets every day. And while nature treated him rather well, for the poor man he was, Dame Fortune seemed to have ignored him altogether, until he took his fate in his own hands, and then things began to improve. But to make a short story as long as I can, like the journalists and modern novelists, one day while Cormac was sitting in a barber"s chair, having his hair cut and trying to forget what the barber was talking about, a bright idea came to him as he caught a glimpse of himself in the looking-gla.s.s, and lo and behold! without saying a word, he jumped up and stood on his two feet, and the poor barber got so excited that he cut a piece off the top of his right ear. Cormac wasn"t the least displeased, because he always thought that his ears were too long, so then and there he told the barber to cut a piece about the same length off his other ear, so that they would both look nice and even. And when his wishes were complied with, he thanked the barber, and then he up and ses to himself: "Cormac McShane," ses he, "I never before thought you were such a good-looking fellow. Sure the King of Spain or the Emperor of China would feel as proud as a peac.o.c.k to have a countenance like yours. Yet," ses he, "isn"t it a strange thing that one so handsome, and modest likewise, and with such a splendid appet.i.te, and a taste for good things in general, should be compelled by stress of circ.u.mstances to live on pigs" heads, and tough cabbage, and no change at all in your dietary but salt conger eels on Fridays. Why," ses he, "a man with your appreciation should have plenty of the choice things of life, and never know the want of anything. What, might I ask," ses he, "has the world achieved by all the books that have been written, and all the charity sermons that have been preached, when you, Cormac McShane, couldn"t go from Cork to Dublin unless you borrowed the money, and it might be as hard for you to borrow it, as "twould be for yourself to lend it to another."
"That"s good sound talk," said Micus. "Go on with the story, and don"t let any one interrupt you."
""Now," ses Cormac, "If every one in the whole world from Peru to Clonakilty would only give you a halfpenny each, and no one would miss such a trifle, you would be the richest man alive, and then you needn"t give a traneen about any one. But, of course," ses he, "that would be too much originality to expect from the bewildered inhabitants of the globe, moreover," ses he, "when we consider that the majority of people are always trying to get something for nothing, themselves."
"He had the temperament of a millionaire," said Micus.
"Indeed, he had, and the ingenuity of the tinkers, who would charge for putting a patch on a skillet where there was no hole at all,"
said Padna. ""However," ses Cormac to himself, "there"s nothing like money, no matter how it may have been earned, and every man should be his own counsellor, because the little we know about each other only leads us into confusion and chaos. Now," ses he, "very few ever became wealthy by hard work alone, and you, Cormac McShane, must think of some scheme by which you can become rich, and all of a sudden too." And so he exercised his brains for about a month, and kept thinking and thinking, until finally he managed to capture an idea that he found straying among all the wild fancies that ever kept buzzing about in his head. And he was so pleased and delighted that he ses to himself: "Cormac," ses he, "there isn"t another man alive who could think of such a short cut to wealth, health, and happiness, and as a mark of my appreciation, I will now treat you to whatever you may want, provided, of course, that it won"t cost more than one shilling. A shilling is enough to spend on any one at a time, unless you are sure of getting two shillings, worth in return. And extravagance is nearly as bad as economy, when it isn"t used to advantage.""
"And what was the brilliant idea that inspired such generosity?" said Micus. "Was it the way he made up his mind to dress himself as a duke, and go to America and marry some heiress who couldn"t tell a duke from a professional plausible humbug?"
"It wasn"t anything as commonplace as that," said Padna.
"What was it then?" said Micus.
""I"m going to raffle myself at a guinea a ticket," ses he. "And if I will sell five hundred, I will have enough to buy a small farm. That would give me a real start in life, and after I have what I want, discontent is possible." And then and there, he got his photo printed on a card, on which was written:
"A Bargain of Bargains
To be raffled, and drawn for, on St. Swithin"s eve, at the Black c.o.c.k Tavern, one Cormac McShane. He stands five feet six inches in his stocking vamps, black hair, blue eyes, an easy disposition, and no poor relations. A limited number of tickets, to wit, five hundred, will be sold at one guinea each, to widows without children, of less than three score and five.""
"Well," said Micus, "the devil be in it, but that was the most extraordinary way I ever heard of a man looking for a wife with a fortune. And why did he make the stipulation that only widows were eligible?"
"Because widows are always less extravagant than single women, and they know how to humour a man better, when he has lost his temper."
"And how many tickets did he sell?" asked Micus.
"Every single one, and he could have sold as many more, only he hadn"t them printed," said Padna.
"And that was how Cormac McShane got a wife, or how a wife got him, if you will?" said Micus.
"Yes," said Padna, "and while the money lasted, Cormac was the happiest man in the country."
"Now," said Micus, "if Cormac McShane was a wise man, Garret Doran was another."
"How so?" said Padna. "Was it the way he always kept his mouth shut until he had something to say?"
"Not exactly," said Micus. "But he could do that too, when it pleased him. Garret was a miller, who kept a mill near the courthouse, so one day when the famous judge, Patcheen the Piper, as he was called, was sitting on the Bench, pa.s.sing sentence on a batch of patriots who were to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, for no other offence than loving a country that never did anything for them better than they loved themselves, a great noise was heard, and the Judge was so annoyed at being disturbed that he stopped short in the middle of the death sentence and ses, at the top of his voice:
""What hullaballoo is that I hear? And who dares make any noise at all, and interfere with my amus.e.m.e.nt?" ses he. "If I will hear another sound, I"ll order every one within a radius of five miles to be boiled in turpentine, and sealed up in tin cans, and have them shipped to the King of the Cannibal Islands, as a Christmas box from the people of generous Ireland," ses he.
""Oh," ses the Crown Solicitor, "that"s only Garret Doran"s mill grinding corn for the poor people."
""The poor people!" ses the Judge in a rage. "Who the devil cares a traneen about the poor but the politicians when they want to get their votes, the kings and emperors when they want them to go to the wars, or the clergy when they are preaching charity sermons for the benefit of the inhabitants of Central Africa? And who will deny that those cannibals wouldn"t be better off if they were left alone? Nevertheless, "tis only fair to state that they have just as much appreciation of decency and kindness as the best of ourselves. But be all that as it may, go and tell Garret Doran to stop his mill at once, and if he don"t obey your orders, bring him here before me, and I"ll order him to be hanged with these poor fools of patriots who have done less to annoy me than he has. And hanging patriots, if you haven"t a conscience, is as good a way of making a living, as starving your employees to death, like some of the pious-faced rascals who have the impudence to invite myself to dine with them. Not indeed, that the likes of me wants a dinner or a meal of food from any one. The poor, who can"t afford a square meal more than once in the year, are never invited to partake of the hospitality of those who give dinners to those who don"t need them. But why should I bother about anything in a world like this, where everything is in such a hopeless state of confusion? Howsomever, a judge, like a lawyer, has to live down to the dignity of his profession, and unless he hangs a man now and again, the Government might think he had no interest in his job at all.
""Of course," ses he, "when we think of the number of useless and troublesome people in the world and the few who find their way to the gallows, we should not worry about them, unless they might happen to be some relation of our own. The only time we really take an interest in other people"s troubles is when such troubles affect ourselves. Nevertheless," ses he, "this is a rather lengthy digression, so be off with yourself at once to Garret Doran, and tell him his mill must be stopped this very instant."
"Well, the Crown Solicitor went to Garret and told him what the Judge had said, and Garret ordered the mill to be stopped, and the Judge received no further trouble from Garret or his mill while the trial lasted. And when the a.s.sizes were over, the Judge went away, and he didn"t return again for five years. But when he was sitting on the Bench again for himself, pa.s.sing sentence of death on more patriots, who should walk up to him but Garret himself, and he dressed in his Sunday clothes? And without as much as saying: "Good-morrow, how are you," or "Go to the devil inself," he up and hands him a large sealed envelope. And when Patcheen the Piper opened and read the note it contained, his face turned scarlet, and he jumped up from his throne of plush and gold tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, and ses: "What the blue blazes is the meaning of all this?" ses he.
""Don"t get excited, whatever you"ll do," ses Garret. ""Tis nothing more nor less than a bill for the expenses incurred by closing down my mill at your instigation some five years ago."
"For a while the Judge said nothing at all, but kept looking hard at Garret, and then all of a sudden ses he: "Why, in the name of all the descendants of Julius Caesar and Brian Boru in America, didn"t you start the mill going after I left the city?"