Never once turning his head towards Cro' Martin, Mr. Merl set out for
Oughterard, where, weary and footsore, he arrived that same evening. His
first care was to take some refreshment; his next to order horses for
Dublin early for the following morning. This done, he sat down to write
to Captain Martin, to convey to him what Merl designated as a “piece of
his mind,” a phrase which, in popular currency, is always understood to
imply the very reverse of any flattery. The truth was, Mr. Merl began to
suspect that his Irish liens were a very bad investment, that property
in that country was held under something like a double title, the one
conferred by law, the other maintained by a resolute spirit and a stout
heart; that parchments required to be seconded by pistols, and that he
who owned an estate must always hold himself in readiness to fight for
it.
Now, these were all very unpalatable considerations. They rendered
possession perilous, they made sale almost impossible. In the cant
phrase of Ceylon, the Captain had sold him a wild elephant; or, to speak
less figuratively, disposed of what he well knew the purchaser could
never avail himself of. If Mr. Merl was an emblem of blandness and good
temper at the play-table, courteous and conceding at every incident of
the game, it was upon the very wise calculation that the politeness was
profitable. The little irregularities that he pardoned all gave him an
insight into the character of his antagonists; and where he appeared to
have lost a battle, he had gained more than a victory in knowledge of
the enemy.
These blandishments were, however, no real part of the man's natural
temperament, which was eminently distrustful and suspicious, wary to
detect a blot, prompt and sharp to hit it. A vague, undefined impression
had now come over him that the Captain had overreached him; that even if
unincumbered,--which was far from the case,--this same estate was like a
forfeited territory, which to own a man must assert his mastery with the
strong hand of force. “I should like to see myself settling down amongst
those savages,” thought he, “collecting my rents with dragoons, or
levying a fine with artillery. Property, indeed! You might as well
convey to me by bill of sale the right over a drove of wild buffaloes in
South America, or give me a title to a given number of tigers in Bengal.
He'd be a bold man that would even venture to come and have a look at
'his own.'”
It was in this spirit, therefore, that he composed his epistle, which
assuredly lacked nothing on the score of frankness and candor. All his
“Irish impressions” had been unfavorable. He had eaten badly, he had
slept worse; the travelling was rude, the climate detestable; and
lastly, where he had expected to have been charmed with the ready
wit, and amused with the racy humor of the people, he had only been
terrified--terrified almost to death--by their wild demeanor, and a
ferocity that made his heart quake. “Your cousin,” said he,--“your
cousin, whom, by the way, I only saw for a few minutes, seemed admirably
adapted to the exigencies of the social state around her; and although
ball practice has not been included amongst the ordinary items of young
ladies' acquirements, I am satisfied that it might advantageously form
part of an Irish education.
“As to your offer of a seat in Parliament, I can only say,” continued
he, “that as the Member of Oughterard I should always feel as though I
were seated over a barrel of gunpowder; while the very idea of meeting
my constituency makes me shudder. I am, however, quite sensible of
the honor intended me, both upon that score and in your proposal of
my taking up my residence at Cro' Martin. The social elevation, and
so forth, to ensue from such a course of proceeding would have this
disadvantage,--it would not pay! No, Captain Martin, the settlement
between us must stand upon another basis,--the very simple and
matter-of-fact one called £ s. d. I shall leave this to-morrow, and
be in town, I hope, by Wednesday; you can, therefore, give your man of
business, Mr. Saunders, his instructions to meet me at Wimpole's, and
state what terms of liquidation he is prepared to offer. Suffice it for
the present to say that I decline any arrangement which should transfer
to me any portion of the estate. I declare to you, frankly, I'd
not accept the whole of it on the condition of retaining the
proprietorship.”
When Mr. Merl had just penned the last sentence, the door slowly and
cautiously was opened behind him, and a very much carbuncled face
protruded into the room. “Yes, that's himself,” muttered a voice; and
ere Merl had been able to detect the speaker, the door was closed. These
casual interruptions to his privacy had so frequently occurred since the
commencement of his tour, that he only included them amongst his other
Irish “disagreeables;” and so he was preparing to enter on another
paragraph, when a very decisive knock at the door startled him, and
before he could say “Come in,” a tall, red-faced, vulgar-looking man,
somewhat stooped in the shoulders, and with that blear-eyed watery
expression so distinctive in hard drinkers, slowly entered, and shutting
the door behind him, advanced to the fire.
“My name, sir, is Brierley,” said he, with a full, rich brogue.
“Brierley--Brierley--never heard of Brierley before,” said Mr. Merl,
affecting a flippant ease that was very remote from his heart.
“Better late than never, sir,” rejoined the other, coolly seating
himself, and crossing his arms on his breast. “I have come here on the
part of my friend Tom,--Mr. Magennis, I mean,--of Barnagheela, who told
me to track you out.”
“Much obliged, I'm sure, for the attention,” said Merl, with an assumed
smartness.
“That 's all right; so you should,” continued Brierley. “Tom told
me that you were present at Cro' Martin when he was outraged and
insulted,--by a female of course, or he wouldn't be making a complaint
of it now,--and as he is not the man that ever lay under a thing of the
kind, or ever will, he sent me here to you, to arrange where you 'd like
to have it, and when.”
“To have what?” asked Merl, with a look of unfeigned terror.
“Baythershin! how dull we are!” said Mr. Brierley, with a finger to his
very red nose. “Sure it's not thinking of the King's Bench you are, that
you want me to speak clearer.”
“I want to know your meaning, sir,--if you have a meaning.”
“Be cool, honey; keep yourself cool. Without you happen to find that
warmth raises your heart, I 'd say again, be cool. I've one simple
question to ask you,”--here he dropped his voice to a low, cautious
whisper,--“Will ye blaze?”
“Will I what?” cried Merl.
Mr. Brierley arose, and drawing himself up to his full height, extended
his arm in the attitude of one taking aim with a pistol. “Eh!” cried he,
“you comprehend me now, don't you?”
“Fight--fight a duel!” exclaimed Merl, aloud.
“Whisht! whisht! speak lower,” said Brierley; “there's maybe a chap
listening at the door this minute!”
Accepting the intimation in a very different spirit from that in
which it was offered, Merl rushed to the door, and threw it wide open.
“Waiter!--landlord!--house!--waiter!” screamed he, at the top of his
voice. And in an instant three or four slovenly-looking fellows, with
dirty napkins in dirtier hands, surrounded him.
“What is it, your honer?--what is it?” asked they, in a breath.
“Don't you hear what the gentleman's asking for?” said Brierley, with a
half-serious face. “He wants a chaise-to the door as quick as lightning.
He 's off this minute.”
“Yes, by Jupiter! that I am,” said Merl, wiping the perspiration from
his forehead.
“Take your last look at the West, dear, as you pass the Shannon, for I
don't think you 'll ever come so far again,” said Brierley, with a grin,
as he moved by him to descend the stairs.
“If I do, may--” But the slam of his room-door, and the rattle of the
key as he locked it, cut short Mr. Merl's denunciation.
In less than half an hour afterwards a yellow post-chaise left the
“Martin Arms” at full speed, a wild yell of insult and derision greeting
it as it swept by, showing how the Oughterard public appreciated its
inmate!