"I'm tellin' you now," says I. "Dang the harness ye'll get from me on
Pathrick's Day! No! But you'll throw the saddle on the pony a' Monday
morning and you'll come out to the Hunt to jolly yourself!"
"Sure the pony has the colour o' lameness on him since I had him at
Cappagh Fair last Tuesday, under pigs," says he. "That was thirty mile
on him."
"Arrah! what signifies that?" says I, "that little horse is as tough as
an eel!"
"And he have a sore place on his shesht, about as big as a thimble,"
says he.
"And is it on his shesht you'd go put the saddle?" says I.
"Well, it is not," says he.
"And as to go putting a collar and harness on a crayture that has the
skin sthripped," says I, "if it was an ass itself the polis'd be afther
ye for it."
"Indeed I'm told so," says he.
"Musha, Divil's cure to ye!" says I, "isn't it what ye can be tellin'
your wife?" says I. "How simple ye are!" says I.
Not another word he spoke but to walk away out o' the house.
"Ye have the man annoyed with your thricks, Conny," says me wife, "why
wouldn't ye give him what he was axing and not to be blackguarding that
way? Maybe yerself wouldn't be so ready to go borrowing a harness for
your wife?" says she.
"Maybe if I was married to Anne Roche it isn't me razor she'd take to go
cuttin' spuds for seed?" says I.
"Arrah, sit down to your breakfast, Conny," says she, "and have done
with your chat!"
"I'm tellin' you," says I, "if Anne Roche goes to town on Pathrick's
Day, it's her own two legs'll carry her!"
"Glory be to God!" says me wife, "she'll be mad altogether! She'll tear
iron!" says she.
"Divil mend her!" says I.
Now as for the foxy mare I had that time, I declare to ye if ye had her
within in the stable, and to be keeping oats to her for two days, she'd
have as much thricks and _tashpy_ in her, and she'd be as anxious for
the road as a lad that'd be goin' to a fair.
If she was to be kept within always and getting what she'd ax of hay and
oats, it's all would be about it she'd break the sidecar! (and faith,
she was nigh handy to doin' that same one time!) But what can a
crayture do that's working always, and getting black potatoes for her
diet?
I went to her St. Pathrick's morning early, and the full up of a tin
basin of oats in my hand. The very minute I opened the door:
"Ah--hem!" says she to me, this way.
"The Divil go from you!" says I, "wasn't the year long enough for you to
get a cough, and not to be sick on Pathrick's Day? And if ye were
coughing the full o' the house ye'll not stop within to-day!" says I,
"ye can have your choice thing of coughing to-morrow!" says I.
And b'lieve me, 'tis she that had that same.
I rode her out quite and aisy, it's no more than five mile to Kyleranny,
and the two lads of sons I have was legging it out before me.
"What have ye in the bottles?" says I to the eldest little fella when I
passed them out.
"Milk, Sir!" says he.
"And what have ye in the bag?" says I to the other lad.
"Me boots, Sir," says he.
I knew well that was a lie for them, but I said nayther here nor there
to them.
[Illustration: "IT'S ALL WOULD BE ABOUT IT SHE'D BREAK THE SIDE CAR!"]
When I was passing Macarthy's, coming into Kyleranny, what was in it but
William Sheehan's yella horse--"Shan Bui" is the name we has in this
counthry for them yella horses with the black sthripe on their back--and
he outside the door, and a bag on his nose.
Musha, more power to ye William! says I to meself, ye stole away clever!
But indeed it's aisy known that Herself had the kay of the bin!
Himself came out then; he was afther drinkin' a couple or three glasses
o' portlier to hearten himself, the poor fella, and he was 'long with me
from that out from first to last, but not a word good nor bad he spoke
of the wife.
[Illustration: "THE LIKE O' THE CROWD THAT WAS IN KYLERANNY"]
The like o' the crowd of people that was in Kyleranny that day never you
seen--side-cars, and carts, and phaytons, and all sorts, let alone them
that was goin' huntin'. Ye wouldn't hardly know there was hounds in it
at all with the dint of the people that'd be around them, and it'd be as
good for you to thry to get into Heaven as to get past the cross roads.
Ye'd lose your life cursin' before the owld women'd stand out from under
your feet. Ye'd have to be going around them this way, the same as a
person that'd be winding a watch.
"Is it sick the Major is, that he's not in it?" says I to Tim Hurley the
Whip (that's the son of an Aunt of mine by the mother), when I got to
come at him, "and Johnny Daly riding Monaloo?"
"He has the 'fluenzy," says Tim.
"Is it bad with him?" says I.
"He's bad enough to-day," says he, "but yesterday he was clear dead
altogether."
"It's a pity anything would ail him," says I.
The Major was a fine man, always, and his family was a fine family.
Sure me father used to say that in owld times if ye went to the Big
House ye'd get the smell o' roast beef when ye'd be no more than half
way up the avenue, and there'd be dhrinkin' all day and knockin' all
night, and if ye axed the change of a half-crown, it wasn't in it.
Faith, I said to John Daly, there wouldn't be any fun, nor no cursin'
nor nothing, when the Major wouldn't be in it.
"Maybe I might please ye yet before the day's out," says he, lookin' at
me ugly enough. "Time's up!" says he then, and with that he comminced to
bugle, and away with himself and Tim and the dogs, out north for
Dempsey's Gorse.
Well, you'd have to pity William Sheehan if ye seen him that time
follyin' the hounds out the road from Kyleranny to Dempsey's Gorse. As
soon as me bowld Shan Bui felt the horses throttin, and batthering, and
belting the road afther him, he made all sorts of shapes and forms of
himself, and as for William, if it wasn't for the almighty howlt he cot
of the crupper of the owld saddle, he was a dead man.
"Blasht your sowl, William!" says owld Dan Donovan to him, "if you would
save your bones," says he, "you will lead him out now for a mile till
you're coming up to Dempsey's, and when ye have the hill agin him then's
the time ye'll get satisfaction!"
Well, William had great courage the same day. He held his howlt on the
little horse out to Dempsey's, and when we come to the gap into the
southern field, below the house, Johnny Daly went away in up through the
land. Well, at the third field west of where Dempsey had the turnips
two years ago, there was about three foot of a stone wall before us.
The yella pony jumped it very crabbed, but the minute he landed, and he
havin' the fall o' the ground before him, he made a ball of himself, and
he bet a lash on Dan Donovan's owld white mare that wasn't sayin' a
word, only goin' from step to step over the wall, like a Christian, and
with that he legged it away down the hill!
B'lieve me, William was promising God that time that if he come safe out
of it he'd howld to the side-car and not ax to go huntin' agin! But
indeed poor William had great courage all through, only for the wife.
"Whatever way it is," says I to Dan Donovan, and we wheeling round the
brink o' the hill, "every horse that's in it will have his 'nough of
grass ate before the dogs'll have them furze bushes rattled out, and,
I'm tellin'ye, that'll quieten them."
"The divil a fox is there in it at all," says Dan.
"Well, now," says William, "there's a woman of the Sullivans' that has a
little house beyond, is afther tellin' me a while ago himself and his
pups has a nest in it some place. Last week she seen them walkin' in
and out of it, like young pigs."
"Maybe she didn't tell ye what way her sons has them pairsecuted with
greyhounds and bulldogs and all sorts!" says Dan.
Well, divil such screechin' ever ye heard as what the dogs comminced
then down in the furze.
"That's Fiddler!" says Dan, "that's a great hound! Maybe it's a cat he
have nooked in it!"
"Faith, well is he called Fiddler!" says I, "he roars most furious."
"Look over! Look over at Johnny Daly!" says William, "what bugling he
have now! If it's a cat itself, what harm would it do them to ate her!
It's little ateing there is in the like of her; them poor craytures of
dogs does be starved with the hunger; and that's what has them yowling
this way."
"Look at Johnny skelpin' round the bog!" says I, "mind ye, he's souple
yet, and he as gross as a bullock, and a back on him as long as a
double-ditch!"
"Whisht!" says Dan, "that's the Whip man screechin' to the dogs! They
have a fox surely!"
"Ye lie!" says William, "that's Jeremi'h Drishcoll's screech, I seen him
within in the furze. Hi cock! Jeremi'h! Bate him out of it boy!"
"Ah, that's a fine sober fox," says owld Dan, "he'll not lave his den
for them. It's a pity now," says he, "that the Major wouldn't have a
fox keeping in a stable, and on a holiday, or the like o' that, to put a
halter on him and lead him out before the hounds. Begob, he'd give them
a nice chase!"
With that all the lads on the hills around let a roar out o' them.
"Hulla! Hulla! Hulla!" says they. "Look at the cat! Look at he!
Look at he! Down him! Land him!"
Every dog that was in it legged it to the roar.
Well, if ye seen Johnny Daly comin' down the hill that time ye'd think
the fairies was afther him. He'd jump the house, he was that mad!
"Plase God he'll not come our way!" says I.
I declare to ye now, if you seen Jeremi'h Driscoll leppin' the furze
bushes, and Johnny Daly afther him with the whip, ye'd as soon be
lookin' at it as ateing your dinner. And as for Tim Hurley, you'd have
to pity him, sthrivin' to go around every hound that was in it.
"The dogs have her ate! More power! They have the owld cat ate!" says
Smartheen, that was sitting up on the wall behind us. "She was dam cute!
I thought she'd besht them! The shkamer!"
'Twasn't long afther that till Tim Hurley had all the dogs gothered and
counted, and 'tis he that got his own trouble with them! Them poor
fellas of Whips catches great hardship. Johnny Daly faced away up the
hill agin them, and the whole o' thim afther him.
"It's for Bludth he's making," says I, "and if that's to be the way,
it's there ye'll see leppin!" says I. "Tighten yerself now Dan!" says
I, "thim banks above in Bludth does be made up very crabby, and as for
walls, it's not stones at all they has in them, but bog mould and
slates!"
Well, for all, poor William Sheehan had great courage that day.
"Your sowl to the divil, Smartheen!" says he. "Knock a few o' thim
stones, boy!"
With that he gives the yella pony a salamandher of a belt, and he
coorsed him about three turns around the field the way he'd knock the
wind out o' him, in regard of he being out on grass always, and when he
thought he felt him jaded it's then he faced him in at the wall. But in
spite of all he jumped it very sevare and very ugly. Them Shan Buies is
very piggish that way.
Meself, I don't like them flippant leppers; I'd like a horse that will
put his two forefeet into the butt o' the wall, and give ye time to say
two Aves and a Father before he leps out.
"As for my mare," says I to Dan, the same time, "she boxed her knee a
fortnight ago, and it's big with her yet, and faith she's avouring it
always. And indeed that's a cross place in any case," says I. "God
bless ye, Smartheen," says I, "throw down a couple more o' them stones!"
I'm tellin' ye Smartheen was a decent civil boy always.
We follied on the bohireens afther that, ye'd think 'twas a wedding with
all that was in it! Throttin' and steppin' their horses, and the hounds
and the ladies and gentlemen and all out before us.
"Faith," says I, "they'd get as nice a shweat this way as what they'd
get in any quadhreel whatever in Dublin Castle," says I, "and as for
jogglin' and jowltin'," says I, "any one'd be the better o' this in his
health while he'll live," says I.
Indeed, all that was in it was teeming down with the heat before we were
up into Bludth at all.
Comin' up out o' the bohireen there was a stick left across in the end
of it, keepin' in calves; a middlin' heavy pole, and the two ends fasht.
If it was in the Cork Park races ye wouldn't see as much fun as what we
knocked out of it with young Tom Dennehy! Sure he was ridin' the
Docthor's grey mare, an' he dhressed out, and grand yalla gaiters on
him, and he in dhread of his life!
"Dennehy took great use out o' the bohireens all through!" says one of
the lads "'tis time for him to throw a lep for us now!"
It's well the Docthor wasn't looking at them that time, and they weltin'
the mare with switches and stones, and Dennehy howlding her back from
the lep when she'd be gethered for it.--Begob! he fell heavy when the
crayture jumped in the spite of him! And there's where the fun was!
Ye wouldn't blame him to be afraid if it wasn't for the dirty little
boasting he has always. But indeed 'twould stun any one to hear the
talk of the Dennehys.
"Mind yourself now, William," says Dan, afther the three of us had a
place made out above on the hill for ourselves to stand aisy. "The hill
tops is lakes afther the rain," says he, "though be Jingo!" says he,
"that little horse went over the hill very knacky!"
"Look at Smartheen comin' down the bohireen over!" says I, "what have he
in the bag? Ye'd say it was a side o' bacon with all the dogs that's
snortin' afther it."
"Be dom!" says William, "but it's a fox! Look at Johnny Daly that has
all his own dogs dhrove in under the wall. B'lieve me, them two has it
settled out! We'll see sport now," says he, "afther Smartheen'll throw
down the owld bag and give the fox a couple of kicks for to rise his
heart for him!"
Well, what it was vexed Johnny Daly I dunno, but he was mad altogether!
He lepped out the wall before him, and he as wicked with the passion as
that he didn't roar, nor say a word, till he had Smartheen cot by the
coat and the whip ruz to him to sthrike him! Ye wouldn't know what was
the two o' thim sayin', but Smartheen thought to run, and 'twas then
Johnny cot the bag secondly to take it from him. Every lad that was in
it comminced to cheer and to bawl when they seen the two o' thim in
howlts. I believe meself let a few screeches, but as for William, if it
was his father that he seen took by the polis, an' he dhrunk, he
wouldn't have more nature for him than what he showed to that boy.
"_Hon-a-maun-dhiaoul_! He'll have him dhragged off the horse!" says
Dan.
"He will! He will!" says I, "he's dam stubborn!"
Maybe if it wasn't for the way Johnny crooked the owld horse with the
spur, sthrivin' to squeeze the leg around him, he'd have held his howlt,
but a Turk couldn't stand it with the hoist that owld Monaloo let out of
him.
"He's down!" says Dan. "He's dead! 'Tis on his head he's fallen!"
"Ye're a liar!" says William, "it's on the fox he fell! The big
mastheen of a tyrant!"
'Twasn't long then till the whole of us was gathered lookin' at Johnny,
and he ravin' like a cat in the measles, and every bit that was on him
desthroyed with the gutther, and says he to Smartheen, givin' a bitter
big curse:
"It's all I wish," says he, "that ye were a football before me! Ye
wouldn't last me three kicks!" says he.
'Twould dhrive a chill through your stomach to be leshnin' to the talk
he had. And sure the fox was as flat as the palm o' yer hand within in
the bag!
"Oh, fie, fie!" says Dan, "our fox is gone from us!"
Indeed, ye wouldn't like to be lookin' at the crayture. Johnny Daly's a
very weighty man, and sure it's the last sthraw, as they say, put the
hump on the camel. But in any case Smartheen battled it out well, and
all that was in it was givin' him applauses.
Yerself knows Bludth, that there's as many hooks and pooks in it as that
a person'd be moidthered before he'd have them gone around, let alone
dogs, and horses.
"B'lieve me," says Dan, "'tis as good for them to give over; sure we're
sick and tired waitin' on them. The fox that keeps this hill has a
sthrong dungeon, and sorra fear of him to lave it for to be sporting for
them. What a fool he is!"
"Yerrah shut yer mouth, Dan!" says I, "thim lads on the paikeen south is
screechin' like as if they seen somethin'! What have ye over there?"
says I, lettin' a roar.
"Yerrah, what are they sayin' at all?" says William, "it's like pigs
talkin'! Sure I can't understand them no more than if I was a fool!"
With that the dogs comminced to gallop, and away with the whole of us.
Well, William had great courage always.
"'Tis down the gully we should go, and we'll be before them whatever
side they'll turn," says he.
"Musha, the divil go from ye!" says I, "maybe it's down the chimbly ye'd
have us go! Sure a man itself couldn't stand in it, it's that steep!"
"No, nor ten men couldn't!" says Dan.
"If it was the ugliest place in life, ye'll be hard set to find a
betther," says William.
Well, afther all, we went down in it, as well as another, and you may
say there was scroogin' and scramblin', and thim that was afther us was
bet down on us like a load o' hay, and thim that was before us cursin'
black and blue for the way ourselves was squeezin' them.
"Faith! We're as throng as three in a bed!" says Dan, "the dogs could
run away in their choice place and divil a one of us would know what
side they went!"
"He's gone north agin!" says a lad above on the hill, and every one that
was in it turned about in the gully and up with them up it agin.
[Illustration: "HE'S GONE NORTH AGIN!"]
"Maybe if it was himself was down in it he wouldn't have so much chat
about goin' north!" says I, "and we twistin' in it like ye'd be dancin'
a reel."
But as for William's little horse, if it was the roof of the chapel he
was on he'd run in it like a bird, rocks or slates or any other thing,
he wouldn't give a dang for them.
The sight'd lave your eyes if ye were lookin' at us afther that, comin'
down out of Bludth, with slidin' and slippin', and buck leps and all
sorts, and the dogs yowlin' away through the counthry from us. Great
banks there was below in the fields. Every one o' them that we come
into my mare would crouch like a hen before it, and she'd let a screech,
and over with her, and wouldn't lave an iron on it. That was her
routheen always, only when she soured by the dint of the Shan Bui, that
was baulking with William out before her. When I'd have to dhrive her
over before me she'd be waitin' on me the far side of the fence, ateing
grass, till I'd come afther her. She is a grand mare indeed, and high
ginthry does be jumpin' mad to buy her foals.
'Twasn't long till we come up to the dogs, where they were searchin' and
snuffin' round the four corners of the field, and divil a smell could
they get. We seen a lad then standing up on a rock, waving.
"He's gone wesht up the road!" says he.
"Did ye see him?" says Johnny Daly.
"Faith I did so!" says me lad, "and he was the most courageous thief of
a fox ever ye seen!"