"Fifteen years ago, when he came to America--
and the Lord only knows how he got the passage--
money--he brought his widowed mother with him
here, and has supported, and is still supporting her.
Besides," went on the still secretly smiling Major,
"the fellow has actually found time, through all his
adversities, to pick up quite a smattering of education,
here and there--"
"Poor fellow!" I broke in sympathizingly, "what
a pity it is that he couldn't have had such advantages
earlier in life," and as I recalled the broad brogue
of the fellow, together with his careless dress,
recognizing beneath it all the native talent and
brilliancy of a mind of most uncommon worth, I could
not restrain a deep sigh of compassion and regret.
The Major was leaning forward in the gathering
dusk, and evidently studying my own face, the
expression of which, at that moment, was very grave
and solemn, I am sure. He suddenly threw himself
backward in his chair, in an uncontrollable burst of
laughter. "Oh, I just can't keep it up any longer,"
he exclaimed.
"Keep what up?" I queried, in a perfect maze of
bewilderment and surprise. "Keep what up?" I
repeated.
"Why, all this twaddle, farce, travesty and by-
play regarding Tommy! You know I warned you,
over and over, and you mustn't blame me for the
deception. I never thought you'd take it so in
earnest!" and here the jovial Major again went into
convulsions of laughter.
"But I don't understand a word of it all," I cried,
half frenzied with the gnarl and tangle of the whole
affair. "What 'twaddle, farce and by-play,' is it,
anyhow?" And in my vexation, I found myself on
my feet and striding nervously up and down the
paved walk that joined the street with the piazza,
pausing at last and confronting the Major almost
petulantly. "Please explain," I said, controlling my
vexation with an effort.
The Major arose. "Your striding up and down
there reminds me that a little stroll on the street
might do us both good," he said. "Will you wait
until I get a coat and hat?"
He rejoined me a moment later, and we passed
through the open gate; and saying, "Let's go down
this way," he took my arm and turned into a street,
where, cooling as the dusk was, the thick maples
lining the walk seemed to throw a special shade of
tranquillity upon us.
"What I meant was"--began the Major in a low
serious voice,--"What I meant was--simply this:
Our friend Tommy, though the truest Irishman in
the world, is a man quite the opposite every way of
the character he has appeared to you. All that rich
brogue of his is assumed. Though he was poor, as I
told you, when he came here, his native quickness,
and his marvelous resources, tact, judgment, business
qualities--all have helped him to the equivalent
of a liberal education. His love of the humorous
and the ridiculous is unbounded; but he has serious
moments, as well, and at such times is as dignified
and refined in speech and manner as any man you'd
find in a thousand. He is a good speaker, can stir
a political convention to highest excitement when he
gets fired up; and can write an article for the press
that goes spang to the spot. He gets into a great
many personal encounters of a rather undignified
character; but they are almost invariably bred of his
innate interest in the 'under dog,' and the fire and
tow of his impetuous nature."
My companion had paused here, and was looking
through some printed slips in his pocketbook. "I
wanted you to see some of the fellow's articles in
print, but I have nothing of importance here only
some of his 'doggerel,' as he calls it, and you've had
a sample of that. But here's a bit of the upper spirit
of the man--and still another that you should hear
him recite. You can keep them both if you care to.
The boys all fell in love with that last one,
particularly, hearing his rendition of it. So we had a
lot printed, and I have two or three left. Put these
two in your pocket and read them at your leisure."
But I read them there and then, as eagerly, too,
as I append them here and now. The first is
called--