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 shores 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
snobs some of them became too! But a whit for snobbery, for what is
it but an adjunct of prosperity, like gout, which disappears again
with adversity."
"Snobbery at best is a foolish thing," said Micus.
"But when we consider the unimportance of our own troubles, and
the importance of the principal 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-glass, 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
peacock 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 appetite, and a taste for good things in general, should
be compelled by stress of circumstances 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
Cock 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, passing 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 amusement?' 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 Assizes 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, passing 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 trimmings, 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?'
"'You never told me to do so,' ses Garret. 'And if I did start it
without your permission, I might have been sent to gaol for five
hundred years or more.'
"'Well,' ses the Judge, 'I'm sorry I can't send you to a warmer
place than gaol to punish you for fooling me in such a successful
manner. Why, man alive,' ses he, 'your conduct is preposterous;
in fact, 'tis worse, because 'tis ridiculous as well.'
"''Tis the incongruity of things that makes a living for most of us,'
ses Garret. 'And only a fool would get angry about anything. Anyway,'
ses he, 'I don't care a traneen what happens to you, so long as I
will get what is coming to me.'
"'Bedad,' ses the Judge, 'in spite of all our old talk, that seems
to be the beginning and end of human ambition. We all like to get as
much as we can for nothing, and give as little as possible in return.'
"But to finish my story, the case was taken from the high courts to
the low courts, and from the low courts back again to the high courts,
and between the jigs and the reels, so to speak, Garret got his money,
and Patcheen the Piper never asked any one to stop a mill again."
"That's the devil's own queer yarn," said Padna. "If we all had to
wait until we were told what to do, we wouldn't do anything at all."
"We wouldn't," agreed Micus.