the usual manner; where M'Roarkin, after a wheezy fit of coughing and
a draught of Nancy's Porter, commenced to give them an account of
Larry M'Farland's Wake. We have observed before, that M'Roarkin was
desperately asthmatic, a circumstance which he felt to be rather an
unpleasant impediment to the indulgence either of his mirth or sorrow.
Every chuckle at his own jokes ended in a disastrous fit of coughing;
and when he became pathetic, his sorrow was most ungraciously dissipated
by the same cause; two facts which were highly relished by his audience.
“Lakry M'Fakland, when a young man, was considered the best laborer
within a great ways of him; and no servant-man in the parish got within
five shillings a quarter of his wages. Often and often, when his time
would be near out, he'd have offers from the rich farmers and gintlemen
about him, of higher terms; so that he was seldom with one masther more
nor a year at the very most. He could handle a flail with e'er a man
that ever stepped in black leather; and at spade-work there wasn't his
aquil. Indeed, he had a brain for everything: he could thatch better nor
many that arned their bread by it; could make a slide-car, straddle, or
any other rough carpenter work, that it would surprise you to think of
it; could work a kish or side creel beautifully; mow as much as any two
men, and go down a ridge of corn almost as fast as you could walk; was
a great hand at ditching, or draining meadows and bogs; but above all
things he was famous for building hay-ricks and corn-stacks; and when
Squire Farmer used to enter for the prize at the yearly plowing-match,
he was sure to borrow the loan of Larry from whatever master he happened
to be working with. And well he might, for the year out of four that
he hadn't Larry he lost the prize: and every one knew that if Larry had
been at the tail of his plough, they would have had a tighter job of it
in beating him.
“Larry was a light, airy young man, that knew his own value; and was
proud enough, God knows, of what he could do. He was, indeed, two much
up to sport and divarsion, and never knew his own mind for a week. It
was against him that he never stayed long in one place; for when he
got a house of his own afterwards, he had no one that cared anything in
particular about him. Whenever any man would hire him, he'd take care
to have Easter and Whiss'n Mondays to himself, and one or two of
the Christmas Maragahmores.* He was also a great dancer, fond of
the dhrop--and used to dress above his station: going about with a
shop-cloth coat, cassimoor small-clothes, and a Caroline hat; so that
you would little think he was a poor sarvint-man, laboring for his
wages. One way or other, the money never sted long with him; but he
had light spirits, depended entirely on his good hands, and cared very
little about the world, provided he could take his own fling out of it.
* Anglice--Big markets. There are three of these held before
Christmas, and one or two before Easter, to enable the
country folks to make their markets, and prepare for the
more comfortably celebrating those great convivial
festivals. They are almost as numerously attended as fairs;
for which reason they are termed “big markets.”
“In this way he went on from year to year, changing from one master to
another; every man that would employ him thinking he might get him to
stop with him for a constancy. But it was all useless; he'd be off after
half a year, or sometimes a year at the most, for he was fond of roving;
and that man would never give himself any trouble about him afterwards;
though, may be if he had continted himself with him, and been sober and
careful, he would be willing to assist and befriend him, when he might
stand in need of assistance.
“It's an ould proverb, that 'birds of a feather flock together,' and
Larry was a good proof of this, There was in the same neighborhood a
young woman name Sally Lowry, who was just the other end of himself (*
meaning his counterpart) for a pair of good hands, a love of dress and
of dances. She was well-looking, too, and knew it; light and showy, but
a tight and clane sarvint, any way. Larry and she, in short, began to
coort, and were pulling a coard together for as good as five or six
years. Sally, like Larry, always made a bargain, when hiring, to have
the holly-days to herself; and on these occasions she and Larry would
meet and sport their figure; going off with themselves, as soon as mass
would, be over, into Ballymavourneen, where he would collect a pack of
fellows about him, and she a set of her own friends; and there they'd
sit down and drink for the length of a day, laving themselves without a
penny of whatever little aiming the dress left behind it; for Larry was
never right, except when he was giving a thrate to some one or other.
“After corrousing away till evening, they'd then set off to a dance; and
when they'd stay there till it would be late, he should see her home, of
coorse, never parting till they'd settle upon meeting another day.
“At last they got fairly tired of this, and resolved to take one another
for better for worse. Indeed they would have done this long ago, only
that they could never get as much together as would pay the priest.
Howandever, Larry spoke to his brother, who was a sober, industrious
boy, that had laid by his _scollops_ for the windy-day,* and tould him
that Sally Lowry and himself were going to yoke for life. Tom was a
well-hearted, friendly lad, and thinking that Sally, who bore a good
name for being such a clane sarvint, would make a good wife, he lent
Larry two guineas, which along with two more that Sally's aunt, who
had no childhre of her own, gave her, enabled them to over their
difficulties and get married. Shortly after this, his brother Tom
followed his example; but as he had saved something, he made up to Val
Slevin's daughter, that had a fortune of twenty guineas, a cow and a
heifer, with two good chaff beds and bedding.
* In Irish the proverb is--“Ha naha la na guiha la na
scuilipagh:” that is, the windy or stormy day is not that on
which the scollops should be cut. Scollops are osier twigs,
sharpened at both ends, and inserted in the thatch, to bind
it at the eave and rigging. The proverb inculcates
preparation for future necessity.
“Soon after Tom's marriage, he comes to Larry one day and says 'Larry,
you and I are now going to face the world; we're both young', healthy,
and willin' to work--so are our wives; and it's bad if we can't make out
bread for ourselves, I think.'
“'Thrue for you, Tom,' says Larry, 'and what's to hinder us? I only wish
we had a farm, and you'd see we'd take good bread out of it: for my
part there's not another _he_ in the country I'd turn my back upon for
managing a farm, if I had one.'
“' Well,' says the other, 'that's what I wanted to overhaul as we're
together; Squire Dickson's steward was telling me yesterday, as I
was coming up from my father-in-law's, that his master has a farm of
fourteen acres to set at the present time; the one the Nultys held, that
went last spring to America--'twould be a dacent little take between
us.'
“'I know every inch of it,' says Larry, 'and good strong land it is, but
it was never well wrought; the Nultys weren't fit for it at all; for one
of them didn't know how to folly a plough. I'd engage to make that land
turn out as good crops as e'er a farm within ten miles of it.'
“'I know that, Larry,' says Tom, 'and Squire Dickson knows that no man
could handle it to more advantage. Now if you join me in it, whatever
means I have will be as much yours as mine; there's two snug houses
under the one roof, with out-houses and all, in good repair--and if
Sally and Biddy will pull manfully along with us, I don't see, with the
help of Almighty Grod, why we shouldn't get on dacently, and soon be
well and comfortable to live.'
“'Comfortable!' savs Larry, 'no, but wealthy itself, Tom: and let us
_at_ it at wanst; Squire Dickson knows what I can do as well as any man
in Europe; and I'll engage won't be hard upon us for the first year or
two; our best plan is to go to-morrow, for fraid some-other might get
the foreway of us.'
“The Squire knew very well that two better boys weren't to be met with
than the same M'Farlands, in the way of knowing how to manage land; and
although he had his doubts as to Larry's light and careless ways, yet he
had good depindance out of the brother and thought, on the whole, that
they might do very-well together. Accordingly, he set them the farm at
a reasonable rint, and in a short time they were both living on it with
their two wives. They divided the fourteen acres into aquil parts;
and for fraid were would be any grumbling between them about better or
worse, Tom proposed that they should draw lots, which was agreed to by
Larry; but, indeed, there was very little difference in the two halves;
for Tom took care, by the way he divided them, that none of them should
have any reason to complain. From the time they wint to live upon their
farms, Tom was up early and down late, improving it--paid attention to
nothing else; axed every man's opinion as to what crop would be best for
such a spot, and to tell the truth he found very few, if any, able to
instruct him so well as his own brother Larry. He was no such laborer,
however, as Larry--but what he was short in, he made up by perseverance
and care.
“In the coorse 'of two or three years you would hardly bleeve how he got
on, and his wife was every bit aquil to him. She spun the yarn for the
linen that made their own shirts and sheeting, bought an odd pound of
wool-now and then when she could get it chape, and put it past till she
had a stone or so; she would then sit down and spin it--get it wove
and dressed; and before one would know anything about it she'd have
the making of a dacent comfortable coat for Tom, and a bit of
heather-colored drugget for her own gown, along with a piece of striped
red and blue for a petticoat--all at very little cost.
“It wasn't so with Larry. In the beginning, to be sure, while the fit
was on him, he did very well; only that he would go off an odd time to
a dance; or of a market or fair day, when he'd see the people pass by,
dressed in their best clothes, he'd take the notion, and sot off with
himself, telling Sally that he'd just go in for a couple of hours, to
see how the markets were going on.
“It's always an unpleasant thing for a body to go to a fair or market
without anything in their pocket; accordingly, if money was in the
house, he'd take some of it with him, for fraid that any friend
or acquaintance might thrate him; and then it would be a poor,
mane-spirited thing, he would say, to take another man's thrate, without
giving one for it. He'd seldom have any notion, though, of breaking in
upon or spinding the money, he only brought it to keep his pocket, jist
to prevent him from being shamed, should he meet a friend.
“In the manetime, Sally, in his absence, would find herself lonely, and
as she hadn't, may be, seen her aunt for some time before, she'd lock
the door, and go over to spind a while with her; or take a trip as far
as her ould mistress's place to see the family. Many a thing people will
have to say to one another about the pleasant times they had together,
or several other subjects best known to themselves, of coorse. Larry
would come home in her absence, and finding the door locked, would slip
down to Squire Dickson's, to chat with the steward or gardener, or with
the sarvints in the kitchen.
“You all remimber Torn Hance, that kept the public-house at Tullyvernon
cross-roads, a little above the. Squire's--at laste, most of you do--and
ould Willy Butledge, the fiddler, that spint his time between Tom's and
the big house--God,be good to Wilty!--it's himself was the droll man
entirely: he died of ating boiled banes, for a wager that the Squire
laid on him agin ould Captain Mint, and dhrinking porter after them
till he was swelled like a tun; but the Squire berried him at his own
expense. Well, Larry's haunt, on finding Sally out when he came home,
was either at the Squire's kitchen, or Tom Hance's; and as he was the
broth of a boy at dancing, the sarvints, when he'd go down, would send
for Wilty to Hance's, if he didn't happen to be with themselves at the
time, and strike up a dance in the kitchen; and, along with all, may be
Larry would have a sup in his head.
“When Sally would come home, in her turn, she'd not find Larry before
her; but Larry's custom was to go in to Tom's wife, and say,--'Biddy,
tell Sally, when she comes home, that I'm gone down awhile to the big
house (or to Tom Hance's, as it might be), but I'll not be long.' Sally,
after waiting awhile, would put on her cloak, and slip down to see
what was keeping him. Of course, when finding the sport going on, and
carrying a light heel at the dance herself, she'd throw off the cloak,
and take a hand at it along with the rest. Larry and she would then go
their ways home, find the fire out, light a sod of turf in Tom's,
and feeling their own place very cowld and naked, after the blazing
comfortable fire they had left behind them, go to bed, both in very
middling spirits entirely.
“Larry, at other times, would quit his work early in the evening, to go
down towards the Squire's, bekase he had only to begin work earlier the
next day to make it up. He'd meet the Squire himself, may be, and, after
putting his hand to his hat, and getting a 'how do you do, Larry,'
from his honor, enter into discoorse with him about his honor's plan of
stacking his corn. Now, Larry was famous at this.
“'Who's to build your stacks this saison, your honor?'
“'Tim Dillon, Larry.'
“'Is it he, your honor?--he knows as much about building a stack of corn
as Mas-ther George, here. He'll only botch them, sir, if you let him go
about them.'
“'Yes;' but what can I do, Larry? He's the only man I have that I could
trust them to.'
“'Then it's your honor needn't say that anyhow; for rather then see them
spoiled, I'd come down myself and put them up for you.'
“'Oh, I couldn't expect that, Larry.'
“Why, then, I'll do it, your honor; and you may expect, me down in the
morning at six o'clock, plase God.'
“Larry would keep his word, though his own corn was drop-ripe; and
havin' once undertaken the job, he couldn't give it up till he'd, finish
it off dacently. In the meantime, his own crop would go to destruction;
sometimes a windy day would come, and not leave him every tenth grain;
he'd then get some one to cut it down for him--he had to go to the big
house, to build the master's corn; he was then all bustle--a great
man entirely--there was _non_ such; would be up with, the first light,
ordering and commanding, and directing the Squire's laborers, as if he
was the king of the castle. Maybe, 'tis after he'd come from the big'
house, that he'd, collect a few of the neighbors, and get a couple of
cars and horses from the Squire, you see, to bring home his own oats to
the hagyard with moonlight, after the dews would begin to fall; and.
in a week afterwards every stack would be heated, and all in a reek of
froth and smoke. It's not aisy to do anything in a hurry, and especially
it's not aisy to build a corn-stack after night, when a man cannot see
how it goes on: so 'twas no wonder if Larry's stacks were supporting one
another the next day--one leaning north and another south.
“But, along with this, Larry and Sally were great people for going to
the dances that Hance used to have at the crass-roads, bekase he wished
to put money into his own pocket; and if a neighbor died, they were sure
to be the first at the wake-house--for Sally was a great hand at washing
down a corpse---and they would be the last home from the berril; for
you know, they couldn't but be axed in to the dhrinking, after the
friends would lave the churchyard, to take a sup to raise their spirits
and drown sorrow, for grief is always drouthy.
“When the races, too, would come, they would be sure not to miss them;
and if you'd go into a tint, it's odds but you'd find them among a knot
of acquaintances, dhrinking and dancing, as if the world was no trouble
to them. They were, indeed, the best nathured couple in Europe; they
would lend you a spade or a hook in potato time or harvest, out of pure
kindness, though their own corn, that was drop-ripe, should be uncut,
or their potatoes, that were a tramping every day with their own cows or
those of the neighbors, should be undug--all for fraid of being thought
unneighborly.
“In this way they went on for some years, not altogether so bad but that
they were able just to keep the house over their heads. They had a small
family of three children on their hands, and every likelihood of having
enough of them. Whenever they got a young one christened, they'd be sure
to have a whole lot of the neighbors at it; and surely some of the young
ladies, or Master George, or John, or Frederick, from the big house,
should stand gossip, and have the child called after them. They then
should have tay enough to sarve them, and loaf-bread and punch; and
though Larry should sell a sack of seed-oats or seed-potatoes to get
it, no doubt but there should be a bottle of wine, to thrate the young
ladies or gintlemen.
“When their childre grew up, little care was taken of them, bekase their
parents minded other people's business more nor their own. They were
always in the greatest poverty and distress; for Larry would be killing
time about the Squire's, or doing some handy job for a neighbor who
could get no other man to do it. They now fell behind entirely in the
rint, and Larry got many hints from the Squire that if he didn't pay
more attention to his business, he must look after his arrears, or
as much of it as he could make up from the cattle and the crop. Larry
promised well, as far as words went, and no doubt hoped to be able to
perform; but he hadn't steadiness to go through with a thing. Thruth's
best;--you see both himself and his wife neglected their business in the
beginning, so that everything went at sixes and sevens. They then found
themselves uncomfortable at their own hearth, and had no heart to labor:
so that what would make a careful person work their fingers to the
stumps to get out of poverty, only prevented _them_ from working at all,
or druv them to work for those that had more comfort, and could give
them a better male's mate than they had themselves.
“Their tempers, now, soon began to get sour: Larry thought, bekase Sally
wasn't as careful as she ought to be, that if he had taken any other
young woman to his wife, he wouldn't be as he was;--she thought the
very same thing of Larry. 'If he was like another,' she would say to his
brother, 'that would be up airly and late at his own business, I would
have spirits to work, by rason it would cheer my heart to see our little
farm looking as warm and comfortable as anothers; but, _fareer gairh_
(* bitter misfortune) that's not the case, nor likely to be so, for he
spinds his time from one place to another, working for them that laughs
at him for his pains; but he'd rather go to his neck in wather than lay
down a hand for himself, except when he can't help it.'
“Larry, again, had his complaint--'Sally's a lazy trollop,' he would
say to his brother's wife, 'that never does one hand's turn that she
can help, but sits over the fire from morning till night, making bird's
nests in the ashes with her yallow heels, or going about from one
neighbor's house to another, gosthering and palavering about what
doesn't consarn her, instead of minding the house. How can I have heart
to work, when I come in--expecting to find my dinner ready; but, instead
of that, get her sitting upon her hunkers on the hearthstone; blowing at
two or three green sticks with her apron, the pot hanging on the crook,
without even the white horses on it.* She never puts a stitch in my
clothes, nor in the childher's clothes, nor in her own, but lets them
go to rags at once--the divil's luck to her! I wish I had never met with
her, or that I had married a sober girl, that wasn't fond of dress and
dancing. If she was a good sarvint, it was only because she liked to
have a good name; for when she got a house and place of her own, see how
she turned out!'
* The white horses are produced by the extrication of air,
which rises in white bubbles to the surface when the
potatoes are beginning to boil; so that when the first
symptoms of boiling commence, it is a usual phrase to say,
the white horses are on the pot--sometimes the white friars.
“From less to more, they went on squabbling and fighting, until at last
you might see Sally one time with a black eye or a cut head, or another
time going off with herself, crying, up to Tom Hance's or some other
neighbor's house, to sit down and give a history of the ruction that
he and she had on the head of some trifle or another that wasn't worth
naming. Their childher were shows, running about without a single stitch
upon them, except ould coats that some of the sarvints from the big
house would throw them. In these they'd go sailing about,with the long
skirts trailing on the ground behind them; and sometimes Larry would be
mane enough to take the coat from the gorsoon, and ware it himself. As
for giving them any schooling, 'twas what they never thought of;
but even if they were inclined to it, there was no school in the
neighborhood to send them to, for God knows it's the counthry that was
in a neglected state as to schools in those days, as well as now.
“It's a thrue saying, that as the ould cock crows the young one larns;
and this was thrue here, for the childher fought one another like so
many divils, and swore like Trojans--Larry, along with everything else,
when he was a Brine-oge, thought it was a manly thing to be a great
swearer; and the childher, when they got able to swear, warn't worse nor
their father. At first, when any of the little souls would thry at an
oath, Larry would break his heart laughing at them; and so, from one
thing to another, they got quite hardened in it, without being any way
checked in wickedness. Things at last drew on to a bad state, entirely.
Larry and Sally were now as ragged as Dives and Lazarus, and their
childher the same. It was no strange sight, in summer, to see the young
ones marching about the street as bare as my hand, with scarce a blessed
stitch upon them that ever was seen, they dirt and ashes to the eyes,
waddling after their uncle Tom's geese and ducks, through the green
sink of rotten water that lay before their own door, just beside the
dunghill: or the bigger ones running after the Squire's laborers, when
bringing home the corn or the hay, wanting to get a ride as they went
back with the empty cars.
“Larry and Sally would never be let into the Squire's kitchen now to eat
or drink, or spend an evening with the sarvints; he might go out and in
to his meal's mate along with the rest of the laborers, but there was
no _grah_ (* goodwill) for him. Sally would go down with her jug to get
some buttermilk, and have to stand among a set of beggars and cotters,
she as ragged and as poor as any of them, for she wouldn't be let into
the kitchen till her turn came, no more nor another, for the sarvints
would turn up their noses with the greatest disdain possible at them
both.