MURTOUGH MURPHY'S STORY; BEING YE MARVELLOUS LEGEND OF TOM CONNOR'S CAT
“There was a man in these parts, sir, you must know, called Tom Connor,
and he had a cat that was equal to any dozen of rat-traps, and he was
proud of the baste, and with rayson; for she was worth her weight in
goold to him in saving his sacks of meal from the thievery of the rats
and mice; for Tom was an extensive dealer in corn, and influenced the
rise and fall of that article in the market, to the extent of a full
dozen of sacks at a time, which he either kept or sold, as the spirit
of free trade or monopoly came over him. Indeed, at one time, Tom had
serious thoughts of applying to the government for a military force to
protect his granary when there was a threatened famine in the county.”
“Pooh! pooh! sir,” said the matter-of-fact little man: “as if a dozen
sacks could be of the smallest consequence in a whole county--pooh!
pooh!”
“Well, sir,” said Murphy, “I can't help if you don't believe; but it's
truth what I am telling you, and pray don't interrupt me, though you
may not believe; by the time the story's done you'll have heard more
wonderful things than _that_,--and besides, remember you're a stranger
in these parts, and have no notion of the extraordinary things,
physical, metaphysical, and magical, which constitute the idiosyncrasy
of rural destiny.”
The little man did not know the meaning of Murphy's last sentence--nor
Murphy either; but, having stopped the little man's throat with big
words, he proceeded--
“This cat, sir, you must know, was a great pet, and was so up to
everything, that Tom swore she was a'most like a Christian, only she
couldn't speak, and had so sensible a look in her eyes, that he was
sartin sure the cat knew every word that was said to her. Well, she used
to sit by him at breakfast every morning, and the eloquent cock of her
tail, as she used to rub against his leg, said, 'Give me some milk, Tom
Connor,' as plain as print, and the plenitude of her purr afterwards
spoke a gratitude beyond language. Well, one morning, Tom was going to
the neighbouring town to market, and he had promised the wife to bring
home shoes to the childre' out o' the price of the corn; and sure
enough, before he sat down to breakfast, there was Tom taking the
measure of the children's feet, by cutting notches on a bit of stick;
and the wife gave him so many cautions about getting a 'nate fit' for
'Billy's purty feet,' that Tom, in his anxiety to nick the closest
possible measure, cut off the child's toe. That disturbed the harmony of
the party, and Tom was obliged to breakfast alone, while the mother was
endeavouring to cure Billy; in short, trying to make a _heal_ of his
_toe_. Well, sir, all the time Tom was taking measure for the shoes, the
cat was observing him with that luminous peculiarity of eye for which
her tribe is remarkable; and when Tom sat down to breakfast the cat
rubbed up against him more vigorously than usual; but Tom, being
bewildered between his expected gain in corn and the positive loss of
his child's toe, kept never minding her, until the cat, with a sort of
caterwauling growl, gave Tom a dab of her claws, that went clean through
his leathers, and a little further. 'Wow!' says Tom, with a jump,
clapping his hand on the part, and rubbing it, 'by this and that,
you drew the blood out o' me,' says Tom; 'you wicked divil--tish!--go
along!' says he, making a kick at her. With that the cat gave a
reproachful look at him, and her eyes glared just like a pair of
mail-coach lamps in a fog. With that, sir, the cat, with a mysterious
_'mi-ow'_ fixed a most penetrating glance on Tom, and distinctly uttered
his name.
“Tom felt every hair on his head as stiff as a pump-handle; and scarcely
crediting his ears, he returned a searching look at the cat, who very
quietly proceeded in a sort of nasal twang--
“'Tom Connor,' says she.
“'The Lord be good to me!' says Tom, 'if it isn't spakin' she is!'
“'Tom Connor,' says she again.
“'Yes, ma'am,' says Tom.
“'Come here,' says she; 'whisper--I want to talk to you, Tom,' says
she, 'the laste taste in private,' says she--rising on her hams, and
beckoning him with her paw out o' the door, with a wink and a toss o'
the head aiqual to a milliner.
“Well, as you may suppose, Tom didn't know whether he was on his head
or his heels, but he followed the cat, and off she went and squatted
herself under the edge of a little paddock at the back of Tom's house;
and as he came round the corner, she held up her paw again, and laid it
on her mouth, as much as to say, 'Be cautious, Tom.' Well, divil a word
Tom could say at all, with the fright, so up he goes to the cat, and
says she--
“'Tom,' says she, 'I have a great respect for you, and there's something
I must tell you, becase you're losing character with your neighbours,'
says she, 'by your goin's on,' says she, 'and it's out o' the respect
that I have for you, that I must tell you,' says she.
“'Thank you, ma'am,' says Tom.
“'You're goin' off to the town,' says she, 'to buy shoes for the
childre',' says she, 'and never thought o' gettin' me a pair.'
“'You!' says Tom.”
“'Yis, me, Tom Connor,' says she; 'and the neighbours wondhers that
a respectable man like you allows your cat to go about the counthry
barefutted,' says she.”
“'Is it a cat to ware shoes?' says Tom.”
“'Why not?' says she; 'doesn't horses ware shoes?--and I have a prettier
foot than a horse, I hope,' says she, with a toss of her head.”
“'Faix, she spakes like a woman; so proud of her feet,' says Tom to
himself, astonished, as you may suppose, but pretending never to think
it remarkable all the time; and so he went on discoursin'; and says he,
'It's thrue for you, ma'am,' says he, 'that horses wares shoes--but that
stands to rayson, ma'am, you see--seeing the hardship their feet has to
go through on the hard roads.'”
“'And how do you know what hardship my feet has to go through?' says the
cat, mighty sharp.”
“'But, ma'am,' says Tom, 'I don't well see how you could fasten a shoe
on you,' says he.”
“'Lave that to me,' says the cat.”
“'Did any one ever stick walnut shells on you, pussy?' says Tom, with a
grin.”
“'Don't be disrespectful, Tom Connor,' says the cat, with a frown.”
“'I ax your pard'n, ma'am,' says he, 'but as for the horses you wor
spakin' about wearin' shoes, you know their shoes is fastened on with
nails, and how would your shoes be fastened on?'”
“'Ah, you stupid thief!' says she, 'haven't I illigant nails o' my own?'
and with that she gave him a dab of her claw, that made him roar.”
“'Ow! murdher!' says he.”
“'Now, no more of your palaver, Misther Connor,' says the cat; 'just be
off and get me the shoes.'”
“'Tare an' ouns!' says Tom, 'what'll become o' me if I'm to get shoes
for my cats?' says he, 'for you increase your family four times a year,
and you have six or seven every time,' says he; 'and then you must all
have two pair a piece--wirra! wirra!--I'll be ruined in shoe-leather,'
says Tom.
“'No more o' your stuff,' says the cat; 'don't be stand in' here undher
the hedge talkin', or we'll lose our karacthers--for I've remarked your
wife is jealous, Tom.'
“'Pon my sowl, that's thrue,' says Tom, with a smirk.
“'More fool she,' says the cat, 'for, 'pon my conscience, Tom, you're as
ugly as if you wor bespoke.'
“Off ran the cat with these words, leaving Tom in amazement. He said
nothing to the family, for fear of fright'ning them, and off he went to
the _town_ as he _pretended_--for he saw the cat watching him through
a hole in the hedge; but when he came to a turn at the end of the road,
the dickings a mind he minded the market, good or bad, but went off to
Squire Botherum's, the magisthrit, to sware examinations agen the cat.”
“Pooh! pooh!--nonsense!!” broke in the little man, who had listened thus
far to Murtough with an expression of mingled wonder and contempt,
while the rest of the party willingly gave up the reins to nonsense,
and enjoyed Murtough's Legend and their companion's more absurd common
sense.
“Don't interrupt him, Goggins,” said Mister Wiggins.
“How can you listen to such nonsense?” returned Goggins. “Swear
examinations against a cat, indeed! pooh! pooh!”
“My dear sir,” said Murtough, “remember this is a fair story, and that
the country all around here is full of enchantment. As I was telling
you, Tom went off to swear examinations.”
“Ay, ay!” shouted all but Goggins; “go on with the story.”
“And when Tom was asked to relate the events of the morning, which
brought him before Squire Botherum, his brain was so bewildered between
his corn, and his cat, and his child's toe, that he made a very confused
account of it.
“'Begin your story from the beginning,' said the magistrate to Tom.
“'Well, your honour,' says Tom, 'I was goin' to market this mornin', to
sell the child's corn--I beg your pard'n--my own toes, I mane, sir.'
“'Sell your toes!' said the Squire.
“'No, sir, takin' the cat to market, I mane--'
“'Take a cat to market!' said the Squire. 'You're drunk, man.'
“'No, your honour, only confused a little; for when the toes began to
spake to me--the cat, I mane--I was bothered clane--'
“'The cat speak to you!' said the Squire. 'Phew! worse than
before--you're drunk, Tom.'
“'No, your honour; it's on the strength of the cat I come to spake to
you--'
“'I think it's on the strength of a pint of whisky, Tom--'
“'By the vartue o' my oath, your honour, it's nothin' but the cat.' And
so Tom then told him all about the affair, and the Squire was regularly
astonished. Just then the bishop of the diocese and the priest of the
parish happened to call in, and heard the story; and the bishop and the
priest had a tough argument for two hours on the subject; the former
swearing she must be a witch; but the priest denying _that_, and
maintaining she was _only_ enchanted; and that part of the argument was
afterwards referred to the primate, and subsequently to the conclave at
Rome; but the Pope declined interfering about cats, saying he had quite
enough to do minding his own bulls.
“'In the meantime, what are we to do with the cat?' says Botherum.
“'Burn her,' says the bishop, 'she's a witch.'
“_Only_ enchanted,' said the priest--'and the ecclesiastical court
maintains that--'
“'Bother the ecclesiastical court!' said the magistrate; 'I can only
proceed on the statutes;' and with that he pulled down all the law-books
in his library, and hunted the laws from Queen Elizabeth down, and he
found that they made laws against everything in Ireland, _except a cat_.
The devil a thing escaped them but a cat, which did _not_ come within
the meaning of any act of parliament:--_the cats only had escaped_.
“'There's the alien act, to be sure,' said the magistrate, 'and perhaps
she's a French spy, in disguise.'
“'She spakes like a French spy, sure enough,' says Tom; 'and she was
missin', I remember, all last Spy-Wednesday.'
“'That's suspicious,' says the squire--'but conviction might be
difficult; and I have a fresh idea,' says Botherum.
“''Faith, it won't keep fresh long, this hot weather,' says Tom; 'so
your honour had betther make use of it at wanst.'
“'Right,' says Botherum,--'we'll make her subject to the game laws;
we'll hunt her,' says he.
“'Ow!--elegant!' says Tom;--'we'll have a brave run out of her.'
“'Meet me at the cross roads,' says the Squire, 'in the morning, and
I'll have the hounds ready.'
“'Well, off Tom went home; and he was racking his brain what excuse he
could make to the cat for not bringing the shoes; and at last he hit one
off, just as he saw her cantering up to him, half-a-mile before he got
home.
“'Where's the shoes, Tom?' says she.
“'I have not got them to-day, ma'am,' says he.
“'Is that the way you keep your promise, Tom?' says she;--'I'll tell you
what it is, Tom--I'll tare the eyes out o' the childre' if you don't get
me shoes.'
“'Whisht! whisht!' says Tom, frightened out of his life for his
children's eyes. 'Don't be in a passion, pussy. The shoemaker said he
had not a shoe in his shop, nor a last that would make one to fit
you; and he says, I must bring you into the town for him to take your
measure.'
“'And when am I to go?' says the cat, looking savage.
“'To-morrow,' says Tom.
“'It's well you said that, Tom,' said the cat, 'or the devil an eye I'd
leave in your family this night'--and off she hopped.
“Tom thrimbled at the wicked look she gave.
“'Remember!' says she, over the hedge, with a bitter caterwaul.
“'Never fear,' says Tom. Well, sure enough, the next mornin' there was
the cat at cock-crow, licking herself as nate as a new pin, to go into
the town, and out came Tom with a bag undher his arm, and the cat afther
him.
“'Now git into this, and I'll carry you into the town,' says Tom,
opening the bag.
“'Sure I can walk with you,' says the cat.
“'Oh, that wouldn't do,' says Tom; 'the people in the town is curious
and slandherous people, and sure it would rise ugly remarks if I was
seen with a cat afther me:--a dog is a man's companion by nature, but
cats does not stand to rayson.'
“Well, the cat, seeing there was no use in argument, got into the bag,
and off Tom set to the cross roads with the bag over his shoulder, and
he came up, _quite innocent-like_, to the corner, where the Squire, and
his huntsman, and the hounds, and a pack o' people were waitin'. Out
came the Squire on a sudden, just as if it was all by accident.
“'God save you, Tom,' says he.
“'God save you kindly, sir,' says Tom.
“'What's that bag you have at your back?' says the Squire.
“'Oh, nothin' at all, sir,' says Tom--makin' a face all the time, as
much as to say, I have her safe.
“'Oh, there's something in that bag, I think,' says the Squire; 'and you
must let me see it.'
“'If you bethray me, Tom Connor,' says the cat in a low voice, 'by this
and that I'll never spake to you again!'
“'Pon my honour, sir,' said Tom, with a wink and a twitch of his thumb
towards the bag, 'I haven't anything in it.'
“'I have been missing my praties of late,' says the Squire; 'and I'd
just like to examine that bag,' says he.
“'Is it doubting my charackther you'd be, sir?' says Tom, pretending to
be in a passion.
“'Tom, your sowl!' says the voice in the sack, '_if you let the cat out
of the bag_, I'll murther you.'
“'An honest man would make no objection to be sarched,' said the
Squire; 'and I insist on it,' says he, laying hold o' the bag, and Tom
purtending to fight all the time; but, my jewel! before two minutes,
they shook the cat out o' the bag, sure enough, and off she went with
her tail as big as a sweeping brush, and the Squire, with a thundering
view halloo after her, clapt the dogs at her heels, and away they went
for the bare life. Never was there seen such running as that day--the
cat made for a shaking bog, the loneliest place in the whole country,
and there the riders were all thrown out, barrin' the huntsman, who had
a web-footed horse on purpose for soft places; and the priest, whose
horse could go anywhere by reason of the priest's blessing; and, sure
enough, the huntsman and his riverence stuck to the hunt like wax; and
just as the cat got on the border of the bog, they saw her give a twist
as the foremost dog closed with her, for he gave her a nip in the flank.
Still she went on, however, and headed them well, towards an old mud
cabin in the middle of the bog, and there they saw her jump in at the
window, and up came the dogs the next minit, and gathered round
the house with the most horrid howling ever was heard. The huntsman
alighted, and went into the house to turn the cat out again, when what
should he see but an old hag lying in bed in the corner?
“'Did you see a cat come in here?' says he.
“'Oh, no--o--o--o!' squealed the old hag, in a trembling voice; 'there's
no cat here,' says she.
“'Yelp, yelp, yelp!' went the dogs outside.
“'Oh, keep the dogs out o' this,' says the old hag--'oh--o--o--o!' and
the huntsman saw her eyes glare under the blanket, just like a cat's.
“'Hillo!' says the huntsman, pulling down the blanket--and what should
he see but the old hag's flank all in a gore of blood.
“'Ow, ow! you old divil--is it you? you ould cat!' says he, opening the
door.
“In rushed the dogs--up jumped the old hag, and changing into a cat
before their eyes, out she darted through the window again, and made
another run for it; but she couldn't escape, and the dogs gobbled her
while you could say 'Jack Robinson.' But the most remarkable part of
this extraordinary story, gentlemen, is, that the pack was ruined from
that day out; for after having eaten the enchanted cat, _the devil a
thing they would ever hunt afterwards but mice._”