'The way of it was this. There was a little estate of mine in the county
of Waterford that I used now and then to visit in the shooting season.
In fact, except for that, there was very little inducement to go there;
it was a bleak, ugly part of the country, a bad market-town near it, and
not a neighbour within twelve miles. Well, I went over there--it was, as
well as I remember, December two years. Never was there such weather;
it rained from morning till night, and blew and rained from night till
morning; the slates were flying about on every side, and we used to keep
fellows up all night, that in case the chimneys were blown away we 'd
know where to find them in the morning. This was the pleasant weather
I selected for my visit to the “Devil's Grip”--that was the name of the
town-land where the house stood; and no bad name either, for, 'faith, if
he hadn't his paw on it, it might have gone in law,-like the rest of the
property. However, down I went there, and only remembered on the evening
of my arrival that I had ordered my gamekeeper to poison the mountain,
to get rid of the poachers; so that, instead of shooting, which, as I
said before, was all you could do in the place, there I was, with three
brace of dogs, two guns, and powder enough to blow up a church, walking
a big dining-parlour, all alone by myself, as melancholy as may be.
'You may judge how happy I was, looking out upon the bleak country-side,
with nothing to amuse me except when now and then the roof of some cabin
or other would turn upside down, like an umbrella, or watching an old
windmill that had gone clean mad, and went round at such a pace that
nobody dare go near it. All this was poor comfort. However, I got out of
temper with the place; and so I sat down and wrote a long advertisement
for the English papers, describing the Devil's Grip as a little
terrestrial paradise, in the midst of picturesque scenery, a delightful
neighbourhood, and an Arcadian peasantry, the whole to be parted
with---a dead bargain--as the owner was about to leave the country. I
didn't add that he had some thought of blowing his brains out with sheer
disgust of his family residence. I wound up the whole with a paragraph
to the effect that if not disposed of within the month, the proprietor
would break it up into small farms. I said this because I intended to
remain so long there; and, although I knew no purchaser would treat
after he saw the premises, yet still some one might be fool enough to
come over and look at them, and even that would help me to pass the
Christmas. My calculation turned out correct; for before a week was
over, a letter reached me, stating that a Mr. Green, of No. 196 High
Holborn, would pay me a visit as soon as the weather moderated and
permitted him to travel If he waits for that, thought I, he 'll not find
me here; and if it blows as hard for the next week, he 'll not find the
house either; so I mixed another tumbler of punch, and hummed myself to
sleep with the “Battle of Ross.”
'It was about four or five evenings after I received this letter that
old Dan M'Cormick--a kind of butler I have, a handy fellow; he was a
steward for ten years in the Holyhead packet--burst into the room
about ten o'clock, when I was disputing with myself whether I took six
tumblers or seven--I said one, the decanter said the other.
'“It's blowing terrible, Mr. Bob,” said Dan.
'“Let it blow! What else has it to do?”
'“The trees is tumbling about as if they was drunk; there won't be one
left before morn.”
'“They're right,” says I, “to leave that, for the soil was never kind
for planting.”
'“Two of the chimneys is down,” says he.
'“Devil mend them!” said I, “they were always smoking.”
'“And the hall door,” cried he, “is blown flat into the hall.”
'“It's little I care,” said I; “if it couldn't keep out the sheriff it
may let in the storm, if it pleases.”
'“Murther! murther!” said he, wringing his hands, “I wish we were at
say! It's a cruel thing to have one's life perilled this way.”
'While we were talking, a gossoon burst into the room with the news that
the Milford packet had just gone ashore somewhere below the Hook Tower,
adding, as is always the case on such occasions, that they were all
drowned.
'I jumped up at this, put on my shooting-shoes, buttoned up my frieze
coat, and followed by Dan, took a short cut over the hills towards
Passage, where I now found the packet had been driven in. Before we had
gone half a mile I heard the voices of some country-people coming up the
road towards me; but it was so dark you couldn't see your hand.
'“Who's there?” said I.
'“Tim Molloy, your honour,” was the answer.
'“What's the matter, Tim?” said I. “Is there anything wrong?”
'“Nothing, sir, glory be to God--it's only the corpse of the gentleman
that was drowned there below.”
'“I ain't dead, I tell you; I'm only faint,” called out a shrill voice.
'“He says he's better,” said Tim; “and maybe it's only the salt water
that's in him; and, faix, when we found him, there was no more spark in
him than in a wet sod.”
'Well, the short of it was, we brought him up to the house, rubbed him
with gunpowder before the fire, gave him about half a pint of burnt
spirits, and put him to bed, he being just able to tell me, as he was
dropping asleep, that he was my friend from No. 196 High Holborn.
'The next morning I sent up Dan to ask how he was, and he came down with
the news that he was fast asleep. “The best thing he could do,” said
I; and I began to think over what a mighty load it would be upon my
conscience if the decent man had been drowned. “For, maybe, after all,”
thought I, “he is in earnest, maybe he wished to buy a beautiful place
like that I have described in the papers”; and so I began to relent, and
wonder with myself how I could make the country pleasant for him during
his stay. “It'll not be a day or two at farthest, particularly after he
sees the place. Ay, there's the rub--the poor devil will find out then
that I have been hoaxing him.” This kept fretting me all day; and I
was continually sending up word to know if he was awake, and the answer
always was--still sleeping.
'Well, about four o'clock, as it was growing dark, Oakley of the Fifth
and two of his brother officers came bowling up to the door, on their
way to Carrick. Here was a piece of luck! So we got dinner ready for the
party, brought a good store of claret at one side of the fireplace, and
a plentiful stock of bog-fir at the other, and resolved to make a night
of it; and just as I was describing to my friends the arrival of my
guest above-stairs, who should enter the room but himself. He was a
round little fellow, about my size, with a short, quick, business-like
way about him. Indeed, he was a kind of a drysalter, or something of
that nature, in London, had made a large fortune, and wished to turn
country gentleman. I had only time to learn these few particulars, and
to inform him that he was at that moment in the mansion he had come to
visit, when dinner was announced.
'Down we sat; and, 'faith, a jollier party rarely met f together.
Poor Mr. Green knew but little of Ireland; but we certainly tried to
enlighten him; and he drank in wonders with his wine at such a rate that
by eleven o'clock he was carried to his room pretty much in the same
state as on his arrival the night before, the only difference being, it
was Sneyd, not saltwater, this time that filled him.
'“I like the cockney,” said Oakley; “that fellow's good fun. I say, Bob,
bring him over with you to-morrow to dinner. We halt at Carrick till the
detachment comes up.”
'“Could you call it breakfast?” said I. “There's a thought just strikes
me: we'll be over in Carrick with you about six o'clock; well have our
breakfast, whatever you like to give us, and dine with you about eleven
or twelve afterwards.”
'Oakley liked the project well; and before we parted the whole thing was
arranged for the next day.
'Towards four o'clock in the afternoon of the following day Mr. Green
was informed by Daniel that, as we had made an engagement to take an
early breakfast some miles off, he ought to be up and stirring; at the
same time a pair of candles were brought into the room, hot water for
shaving, etc; and the astonished cockney, who looked at his watch,
perceived that it was but four.
'“These are very early people,” thought he. “However, the habits of
the country must be complied with.” So saying, he proceeded with his
toilette, and at last reached the drawing-room, just as my drag dashed
up to the door--the lamps fixed and shining, and everything in readiness
for departure.
“'We 'll have a little shooting, Mr. Green,” said I. “After breakfast,
we'll see what my friend's preserves offer. I suppose you're a good
shot?”
“'I can't say much for my performance; but I'm passionately fond of it.”
'“Well,” added I, “I believe I can answer for it, you 'll have a good
day here.”
'So chatting, we rolled along, the darkness gradually thickening round
us, and the way becoming more gloomy and deserted.
'“It's strange,” says Mr. Green, after a while; “it's strange, how very
dark it grows before sunrise; for I perceive it's much blacker now than
when we set out.”
'“Every climate has its peculiarities,” said I; “and now that we 're
used to this, we like it better than any other. But see there, yonder,
where you observe the light in the valley--that's Carrick. My friend's
house is a little at the side of the town. I hope you 've a good
appetite for breakfast.”
'“Trust me, I never felt so hungry in my life.”
'“Ah, here they come!” said Oakley, as he stood with a lantern in his
hand at the barrack-gate; “here they are! Good-morning, Mr. Green. Bob,
how goes it? Heavenly morning!”
'“Delightful indeed,” said poor Green, though evidently not knowing why.
'“Come along, boys, now,” said Oakley; “we've a great deal before
us; though I am afraid, Mr. Green, you will think little of our Irish
sporting after your English preserves. However, I have kept a few brace
of pheasants, very much at your service, in a snug clover-field near the
house. So now to breakfast.”
'There were about half a dozen of the Fifth at that time in the barrack,
who all entered heart and hand into the scheme, and with them we sat
down to a capital meal, which, if it was not for a big tea-pot and an
urn that figured in the middle of the table, might very well have been
called dinner. Poor Mr. Green, who for old prejudice' sake began with
his congo and a muffin, soon afterwards, and by an easy transition,
glided into soup and fish, and went the pace with the rest of us. The
claret began to circulate briskly, and after a couple of hours the
whisky made its appearance. The Englishman, whose attention was
never suffered to flag with singular anecdotes of a country, whose
eccentricities he already began to appreciate, enjoyed himself to the
utmost. He laughed, he drank, he even proposed to sing; and with one
hand on Oakley's shoulder, and the other on mine, he registered a vow to
purchase an estate and spend the rest of his days in Ireland. It was now
about eleven o'clock, when I proposed that we should have a couple of
hours at the woodcocks before luncheon.
'“Ah, yes,” said Green, rubbing his hands, “let us not forget the
shooting. I 'm passionately fond of sport.”
'It took some time to caparison ourselves for the field. Shot-bags,
flasks, and powder-horns were distributed about, while three brace of
dogs caracoled round the room, and increased the uproar. We now sallied
forth. It was a dark and starless night--the wind still Mowing a
hurricane from the north-east, and not a thing to be seen two yards from
where you stood.
'“Glorious weather!” said Oakley.
'“A delicious morning!” cried another. “When those clouds blow over we
shall have no rain.”
'“That's a fine line of country, Mr. Green,” said I.
'“Eh? what? a fine what? I can see nothing--it's pitch dark.”
'“Ah, I forgot,” said I. “How stupid we were, Oakley, not to remember
that Mr. Green was not used to our climate! We can see everything, you
know; but come along, you'll get better by-and-by.”
'With this we hurried him down a lane, through a hedge, and into a
ploughed field; while on every side of him pop, pop went the guns,
accompanied by exclamations of enthusiastic pleasure and delight.
'“There they go--mark! That's yours, Tom! Well done--cock pheasant* by
Jove! Here, Mr. Green! this way, Mr. Green! that dog is pointing--there,
there! don't you see there?” said I, almost lifting the gun to his
shoulder, while poor Mr. Green, almost in a panic of excitement and
trepidation, pulled both triggers, and nearly fell back with the recoil.
[Illustration: 292]
'“Splendid shot, begad!--killed both,” said Oakley. “Ah, Mr. Green, we
have no chance with you. Give him another gun at once.”
'“I should like a little brandy,” said Mr. Green, “for my feet are wet.”
'I gave him my flask, which he emptied at a pull; while, at the same
time, animated with fresh vigour, he tramped manfully forward, without
fear or dread. The firing still continued hotly around us; and as Mr.
Green discharged his piece whenever he was bid, we calculated that in
about an hour and a half he had fired above a hundred and fifty times.
Wearied and fatigued by his exertions, at length he sat down upon a
bank, while one of the gamekeepers covered the ground about him with
ducks, hens, and turkey-cooks, as the spoils of his exertions.
'At Oakley's proposal we now agreed to go back to luncheon, which I need
not tell you was a hot supper, followed by mulled claret and more punch.
Here the cockney came out still better than before. His character as a
sportsman raised him in his own esteem, and he sang “The Poacher” for
two hours, until he fell fast asleep on the carpet. He was then
conveyed to bed, where, as on the former day, he slept till late in the
afternoon.
'Meanwhile, I had arranged another breakfast-party at Ross, where we
arrived about seven o'clock in the evening--and so on for the rest of
the week, occasionally varying the amusement by hunting, fishing, or
coursing.
'At last poor Mr. Green, when called on one morning to dress, sent down
Dan with his compliments that he wished to speak to me. I went to him at
once, and found him sitting up in his bed.
'“Ah, Mr. Manon,” said he, “this will never do; it's a pleasant life, no
doubt, but I never could go On with it. Will you tell me one thing--do
you never see the sun here?”
'“Oh, bless you! yes,” said I; “repeatedly. He was out for two hours on
last Patrick's Day, and we have him now and then, promiscuously!”
'“How very strange, how very remarkable,” said he, with a sigh, “that
we in England should know so little of all this! But, to tell you the
truth, I don't think I ever could get used to Lapland--it's Ireland I
mean; I beg your pardon for the mistake. And now, may I ask you another
question--Is this the way you always live?”
'“Why, pretty much in this fashion; during the hazy season we go about
to one another's houses, as you see; and one gets so accustomed to the
darkness----”
'“Ah, now, don't tell me that! I know I never could--it's no use my
trying it. I 'm used to the daylight; I have seen it, man and boy, for
about fifty years, and I never could grope about this way. Not but that
I am very grateful to you for all your hospitality; but I had rather go
home.”
'“You'll wait for morning, at all events,” said I; “you will not leave
the house in the dead of the night?”
'“Oh, indeed, for the matter of that, it doesn't signify much; night and
day is much about the same thing in this country.”
'And so he grew obstinate, and notwithstanding all I could say, insisted
on his departure; and the same evening he sailed from the quay of
Waterford, wishing me every health and happiness, while he added, with a
voice of trembling earnestness--
'“Yes, Mr. Mahon, pardon me if I am wrong, but I wish to heaven _you had
a little more light in Ireland!_“'
I am unable to say how far the good things of Major Mahon's table
seasoned the story I have just related; but I confess I laughed at it
loud and long, a testimony on my part which delighted the Major's heart;
for, like all anecdote-mongers, he was not indifferent to flattery.
'The moral particularly pleases me,' said I.
'Ah, but the whole thing's true as I am here. Whisht! there's somebody
at the door. Come in, whoever you are.'
At these words the door cautiously opened, and a boy of about twelve
years of age entered. He carried a bundle under one arm, and held a
letter in his hand.
'Oh, here it is,' said Father Tom. 'Come here, Patsey, my boy, here's the
penny I promised you. There, now, don't make a bad use of your money.'
The little fellow's eyes brightened, and with a happy smile and a pull
of his forelock for a bow, left the room delighted.
'Twelve miles--ay, and long miles too--in less than three hours! Not bad
travelling, Captain, for a bit of a gossoon like that.'
'And for a penny!' said I, almost startled with surprise.
'To be sure,' said the priest, as he cut the cord of the package, and
opened it on the table. 'Here we are! as nate a jacket as ever I set
my eyes on, green and white, with a cap of the same.' So saying, he
unfolded the racing-costume, which, by the desire of both parties, I was
obliged immediately to try on. 'There, now,' resumed he; 'turn about; it
fits you like your skin.'
'It looks devilish well, upon my word,' said the Major. 'Put on the cap;
and see too, he has sent a whip--that was very thoughtful of Dillon. But
what's this letter here? for you, I think, Mr. Hinton.'
The letter was in a lady's hand; I broke the seal and read as follows:--
'Mount Brown, Wednesday Evening.'
'Dear Sir,--My uncle Dillon requests that you will give us the pleasure
of your company to dinner to-morrow at six o'clock. I have taken the
liberty to tell him that as we are old acquaintances you will perhaps
kindly overlook his not having visited you to-day; and I shall feel
happy if, by accepting the invitation, you will sustain my credit on
this occasion.
'He desires me to add that the racing-jacket, etc, are most perfectly at
your service, as well as any articles of horse-gear you may be in want
of.---Believe me, dear sir, truly yours, Louisa Bellow.'
A thrill of pleasure ran through me as I read these lines; and,
notwithstanding my efforts to conceal my emotion from my companions,
they but too plainly saw the excitement I felt.
'Something agreeable there! You don't look, Mr. Hinton, as if that were
a latitat or a bill of costs you were reading.'
'Not exactly,' said I, laughing. 'It is an invitation to dinner from
Mount Brown--wherever that may be.'
'The best house in the county,' said the Major; 'and a good fellow he
is, Hugh Dillon. When is it for?'
'To-morrow at six.'
'Well, if he has not asked me to meet you, I 'll invite myself, and we
'll go over together.'
'Agreed,' said I. 'But how shall I send back the answer?'
The Major promised to send his servant over with the reply, which I
penned at once.
'Just tell Hugh,' said the Major, 'that I'll join you.'
I blushed, stammered, and looked confused. 'I am not writing to Mr.
Dillon,' said I, 'for the invitation came through a lady of the family,
Miss Bellew--his niece, I believe.'
'Whew!' said the Major, with a long whistle. 'Is it there we are! Oh, by
the powers, Mr. Hinton! that's not fair--to come down here not only to
win our money in a steeplechase, but to want to carry off the belle of
our county besides. That 'll never do.'
'She doesn't belong to you at all,' said Father Tom; 'she is a
parishioner of mine, and so were her father and grandfather before her.
And moreover than that, she is the prettiest girl, and the best too, in
the county she lives in--and that's no small praise, for it's Galway I'm
talking of. And now here's a bumper to her, and who 'll refuse it?'
'Not I, certainly.'
'Nor I,' said the Major, as we drank to her health with all the honours.
'Now for another jug,' quoth the Major, as he moved towards the
fireplace in search of the kettle.
'After that toast, not another drop,' said I resolutely.
'Well said!' chimed in the priest; 'may I never, if that wasn't very
Irish!'
Firmly resisting all the Major's solicitations to resume my place at
the table, I wished both my friends goodnight; and having accepted Bob
Mahon's offer of a seat in his tax-cart to the race, I shook their hands
warmly, and took my leave.